Reprise - Continued

[xkelasparmakx]

Kelas gripped his blanket beneath his clenching fingers as he let out a breathy little whine—in response to the spanking? In response to the rubbing? He wasn't even sure which. He enjoyed them both so much and he knew that if Ekor kept this up long enough the line between which thing was pain, and which thing was pleasure, would blur out completely. Enough slaps began to feel blissfully delicious, enough gentle rubbing of a sensitive area began to feel desperately painful—all of it Kelas wanted. Ekor's hands on his body seemed like no other hands he had felt before. He wanted those hands to possess him, to do with him whatever they wanted. He felt almost frenzied with need for Ekor to touch him. His heart was hammering hard, his slit leaking fluid, the little scales around the opening swollen and flushed blue already.

 

He had never so intensely desired for things to be done to him by a specific person. He had welcomed the pain, and the pleasure when he could find it, from anyone who was willing to play with him. But something had switched like a light brightening a dark room and it was that he wanted Ekor—only Jasi—to have him this way. If he allowed himself to linger on that feeling too long it might be overwhelming so he tried to back away from it and let himself exist in the ringing sting on his bottom, on the hot tickling tingle in his chuva. The whine came again.

 

“Thank you, Jasi,” Kelas hissed, keeping his cheek pressed to the mattress below him. His arms were beginning to ache too from being bent behind him but even that felt good. “I am yours to play with as you wish. I...” Kelas paused here and shifted to try to present himself to Ekor more fully—pushing his bottom up a little more, spreading his legs a bit more, as best as he could.

 

Something important that he wanted to say was sticking to his tongue. The words were there but he suddenly felt nervous to say them. They were words he had never said before. He did not know why he felt such a deep need to say them now—to express such a thing—he had never given another person express permission to use him. Simply presenting himself had been offering enough. Something was welling up inside of him, seeming to push against his rib cage, to press against his emotions, and if he did not say this now it would feel wrong to continue, somehow.

 

“Jasi, I... give my body to you,” Kelas said very quietly, trembling. He could feel Ekor's eyes on him, while Kelas's eyes had closed. Ekor had paused his touches and his slaps and time seemed to hang still between them. “I give my...” the word caught in his throat for a moment, but then there it was: “my permission for you to use me as your own. I want to serve you, Jasi.”

 

Kelas shuddered, surprised at himself, at the words he had heard. They were ringing in his ears in time with the marks that were ringing with a lingering sting on his bottom. Despite his hands being pinned behind him he suddenly felt free. Despite the weight of Ekor pinning him he suddenly felt weightless. For a moment he felt he might laugh, or cry, or both. Neither came, though his lashes were wet, he simply seemed to melt more fully into Jasi's presence there, and more fully into himself—his arousal combined with a strange sense of calm.

 

Kelas knew that he would not need to be afraid of what might come next, that he need not worry he would displease his partner and be too harshly rebuked, that while Jasi may call him 'prey' and may hunt him while he lay sleeping—Jasi was no predator who would catch him and leave him bleeding for sport.

 

There had never been a place like this. A floating place full of calm, pain, pleasure; of giving but also receiving. No smell of sour kanar, and piss, and dirt—the scent of his familiar blanket instead, of dried herbs, of Jasi's presence and Jasi's pleasure.