MUDBUG WIP
Nov. 25th, 2007 06:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
titusnowl"I didn't even know we had a collar," said Roger.
"We have a leash," Simon pointed out. "A collar is a necessary adjunct."
"Where'd you get it?"
"I found it."
"Found it?"
"It may have had a dog in it at the time -- "
"Oh, God. That's -- at the very least it's unhygienic -- "
"I only said 'may,' darling..."
Having put the collar on, black leather visible through the open collar of his shirt, Simon proceeded to sit on the bed and look at Roger expectantly.
"So what do you do with me now, sonny boy?"
Roger swallowed; he wasn't expecting Simon to go along with it. Simon's smiling at him with that gentle look on his face, like one of his masks.
"I -- do you want -- ?" he tried, and swallowed again as Simon's gentleness was replaced by his more characteristic playful smirk.
"If you're going to be endlessly consulting me as to what I want, there's not much of a point in my being the one with the collar on, is there?"
That was much more the usual Simon, so it felt more natural to climb onto the bed beside him and kiss him, as Roger clipped the leash onto the leather collar under their chins. It felt -- possessive; and Roger half-believed Simon would stop him any minute, laughing it off as a big joke.
But he didn't; this was a new experience, and novelty held an inordinate charm for the Saint. Still it was rather amusing, really, particularly given Roger's evident discomfort with this reversal of their more customary -- more natural-feeling -- roles; and Simon couldn't keep the light laughter from his eyes when he opened them again and turned a questioning gaze upon the other man.
"Well? Are you going to take me for a walk or something?"
Roger imagined for a quick moment taking Simon for a walk like this, leading him along beside him on the leash, for everyone to see.
"No," Roger murmured then, and he tugged the leash to pull Simon in again, to hold Simon still as he pressed his lips against the edge of the collar, under the corner of Simon's jaw.
"No," he said again, breath warm on Simon's neck. "I think there are other things we can do -- " and he stuck out his tongue to trace along the line where the collar met skin, tasting Simon and leather together.
Pure animal instinct made Simon pull backward against the tug of the leash, but Roger had it surprisingly firmly in hand; and with a soft chuckle deep in his throat, at his own expense this time for that needless automatic reaction, Simon relaxed, enjoying Roger's closeness, the almost ticklish sensation of his tongue tracing the collar around his throat.
"Shall we play fetch?" he suggested flippantly.
Roger laughed softly, leaning on Simon's shoulder but not letting go of the lead. "I am a bit thirsty," he said, "but if you were to fetch me a beer, I'd have to let you off the leash.
"And who knows what sort of mischief you might get into then," he concluded.
Simon sighed dramatically. "And as the intent of the gift was for you to use this leash to keep me out of trouble, and the giver's intentions certainly ought to be given all due respect -- you weren't planning on getting me into trouble, were you?" He tilted his head to look down at Roger, wide-eyed and virtuous. "I mean, this is sort of what you might call a questionable situation, and I'd hate to think your intentions weren't pure -- "
"Purer than your intentions, I'm sure," Roger replied. "Simon -- "
He was absolute rubbish at this sort of thing, he thought. His palms were sweating and he felt -- off, fighting against his deference to Simon's wishes as was only natural.
He tried to think -- what would Simon do -- and swallowed around the rush of *want*.
"Roger," Simon replied amiably. "There, we know each other's names... Come now -- as the actress said to the bishop -- surely you can think of something. Just imagine all the people who would pay exorbitant amounts of money to be in your position right now -- " His voice became drawling, teasing. "The Saint, on a leash, at your mercy -- "
"God, Simon," Roger groaned, and he pulled the leash to crush his mouth to Simon's again, kissing him ruthlessly, wildly.
He pulled away finally to breathe, voice hoarse as he spoke. "I want -- I want you to suck me."
"I believe that could be arranged," said Simon; he was pleased in an almost paternal way at the show of initiative his first and favourite lieutenant was shaping up to display, as well as in a way which could not possibly have been less paternal, and which rather surprised him, for he hadn't thought he'd had it in him. Still, incorrigible and unconquerable, he smirked: "Not going to say 'please'?"
Roger swallowed around that instinctive automatic response to Simon's words, and forced a smirk, leaning in close to growl in Simon's ear.
Simon smiled then, a deceptively gentle smile tinted darker with lust, and slid off the bed to kneel on the floor, Roger allowing just enough of the leash to play through his hands.
"Terribly rude of you, really," Simon observed, looking up through his eyelashes as he worked the fastenings of Roger's trousers. "Just because you've got me all subservient like this, your manners go right out the window... what would your dear old mother say if she knew how her baby boy was acting?"
He freed Roger's cock and took it in his hand, stroking lightly for a moment before lowering his head, drawing his tongue around the tip.
"We both know what that old bat thinks," Roger started, his eyes fluttering closed but his grasp firm around the leash. He moaned softly at the touch of Simon's mouth to his cock, before continuing with slightly shaky voice, "of my behaviour, Simo-nnnn."
He brushed his fingers across Simon's cheek affectionately before moving them upwards, to bury them in Simon's dark hair.
Simon applied himself diligently, taking Roger's length into his mouth, suckling and swirling his tongue in ways he knew from long experience would bring the desired reactions. The clasp of the leash jingled softly against the ring of the collar with every motion of his head.
Roger's hand tightened in Simon's hair as Simon's skilled mouth moved over him. "God," he groaned, and, "your mouth, Simon, you're so good -- "
Simon pulled back to observe: "I know."
Roger tugged slightly on the leash, and Simon returned to his ministrations, one hand assisting in his work and the other absently stroking Roger's thigh. The taste of Roger, salty and familiar; the unfamiliar feeling of the collar round his neck; the delicious sounds Roger made as Simon skilfully applied himself -- the sensations enveloped him, nearly overwhelmed him, and his free hand unconsciously slid from Roger's leg, down to touch himself.
"Simon," Roger murmured, thrusting into the other man's mouth, biting his own lip almost viciously; it doesn't stop the words from spilling out, and he'd have to take his hand out of Simon's hair to plug his mouth with his own fist. "Simon, please, fuck me, please, God -- "
He'd almost actually forgotten that Simon was obeying his commands, and it wouldn't have occurred to him that that might have been one.
Simon made a noise that may have been a moan if it weren't muffled by the current disposition of his mouth and drew back, swirling his tongue around Roger's cock one last time and planting a kiss on the tip. He began to rise, one hand steadying himself on the mattress and the other unbuttoning his own clothing, intending to pull Roger to him for a kiss; but he was checked halfway up by the short rein he was on, and he growled at the interruption.
Roger's eyes opened with the movement, but he didn't get a chance to react with a laugh or apology before Simon was pressing him down into the bed, kissing him ruthlessly.
"We have a leash," Simon pointed out. "A collar is a necessary adjunct."
"Where'd you get it?"
"I found it."
"Found it?"
"It may have had a dog in it at the time -- "
"Oh, God. That's -- at the very least it's unhygienic -- "
"I only said 'may,' darling..."
Having put the collar on, black leather visible through the open collar of his shirt, Simon proceeded to sit on the bed and look at Roger expectantly.
"So what do you do with me now, sonny boy?"
Roger swallowed; he wasn't expecting Simon to go along with it. Simon's smiling at him with that gentle look on his face, like one of his masks.
"I -- do you want -- ?" he tried, and swallowed again as Simon's gentleness was replaced by his more characteristic playful smirk.
"If you're going to be endlessly consulting me as to what I want, there's not much of a point in my being the one with the collar on, is there?"
That was much more the usual Simon, so it felt more natural to climb onto the bed beside him and kiss him, as Roger clipped the leash onto the leather collar under their chins. It felt -- possessive; and Roger half-believed Simon would stop him any minute, laughing it off as a big joke.
But he didn't; this was a new experience, and novelty held an inordinate charm for the Saint. Still it was rather amusing, really, particularly given Roger's evident discomfort with this reversal of their more customary -- more natural-feeling -- roles; and Simon couldn't keep the light laughter from his eyes when he opened them again and turned a questioning gaze upon the other man.
"Well? Are you going to take me for a walk or something?"
Roger imagined for a quick moment taking Simon for a walk like this, leading him along beside him on the leash, for everyone to see.
"No," Roger murmured then, and he tugged the leash to pull Simon in again, to hold Simon still as he pressed his lips against the edge of the collar, under the corner of Simon's jaw.
"No," he said again, breath warm on Simon's neck. "I think there are other things we can do -- " and he stuck out his tongue to trace along the line where the collar met skin, tasting Simon and leather together.
Pure animal instinct made Simon pull backward against the tug of the leash, but Roger had it surprisingly firmly in hand; and with a soft chuckle deep in his throat, at his own expense this time for that needless automatic reaction, Simon relaxed, enjoying Roger's closeness, the almost ticklish sensation of his tongue tracing the collar around his throat.
"Shall we play fetch?" he suggested flippantly.
Roger laughed softly, leaning on Simon's shoulder but not letting go of the lead. "I am a bit thirsty," he said, "but if you were to fetch me a beer, I'd have to let you off the leash.
"And who knows what sort of mischief you might get into then," he concluded.
Simon sighed dramatically. "And as the intent of the gift was for you to use this leash to keep me out of trouble, and the giver's intentions certainly ought to be given all due respect -- you weren't planning on getting me into trouble, were you?" He tilted his head to look down at Roger, wide-eyed and virtuous. "I mean, this is sort of what you might call a questionable situation, and I'd hate to think your intentions weren't pure -- "
"Purer than your intentions, I'm sure," Roger replied. "Simon -- "
He was absolute rubbish at this sort of thing, he thought. His palms were sweating and he felt -- off, fighting against his deference to Simon's wishes as was only natural.
He tried to think -- what would Simon do -- and swallowed around the rush of *want*.
"Roger," Simon replied amiably. "There, we know each other's names... Come now -- as the actress said to the bishop -- surely you can think of something. Just imagine all the people who would pay exorbitant amounts of money to be in your position right now -- " His voice became drawling, teasing. "The Saint, on a leash, at your mercy -- "
"God, Simon," Roger groaned, and he pulled the leash to crush his mouth to Simon's again, kissing him ruthlessly, wildly.
He pulled away finally to breathe, voice hoarse as he spoke. "I want -- I want you to suck me."
"I believe that could be arranged," said Simon; he was pleased in an almost paternal way at the show of initiative his first and favourite lieutenant was shaping up to display, as well as in a way which could not possibly have been less paternal, and which rather surprised him, for he hadn't thought he'd had it in him. Still, incorrigible and unconquerable, he smirked: "Not going to say 'please'?"
Roger swallowed around that instinctive automatic response to Simon's words, and forced a smirk, leaning in close to growl in Simon's ear.
Simon smiled then, a deceptively gentle smile tinted darker with lust, and slid off the bed to kneel on the floor, Roger allowing just enough of the leash to play through his hands.
"Terribly rude of you, really," Simon observed, looking up through his eyelashes as he worked the fastenings of Roger's trousers. "Just because you've got me all subservient like this, your manners go right out the window... what would your dear old mother say if she knew how her baby boy was acting?"
He freed Roger's cock and took it in his hand, stroking lightly for a moment before lowering his head, drawing his tongue around the tip.
"We both know what that old bat thinks," Roger started, his eyes fluttering closed but his grasp firm around the leash. He moaned softly at the touch of Simon's mouth to his cock, before continuing with slightly shaky voice, "of my behaviour, Simo-nnnn."
He brushed his fingers across Simon's cheek affectionately before moving them upwards, to bury them in Simon's dark hair.
Simon applied himself diligently, taking Roger's length into his mouth, suckling and swirling his tongue in ways he knew from long experience would bring the desired reactions. The clasp of the leash jingled softly against the ring of the collar with every motion of his head.
Roger's hand tightened in Simon's hair as Simon's skilled mouth moved over him. "God," he groaned, and, "your mouth, Simon, you're so good -- "
Simon pulled back to observe: "I know."
Roger tugged slightly on the leash, and Simon returned to his ministrations, one hand assisting in his work and the other absently stroking Roger's thigh. The taste of Roger, salty and familiar; the unfamiliar feeling of the collar round his neck; the delicious sounds Roger made as Simon skilfully applied himself -- the sensations enveloped him, nearly overwhelmed him, and his free hand unconsciously slid from Roger's leg, down to touch himself.
"Simon," Roger murmured, thrusting into the other man's mouth, biting his own lip almost viciously; it doesn't stop the words from spilling out, and he'd have to take his hand out of Simon's hair to plug his mouth with his own fist. "Simon, please, fuck me, please, God -- "
He'd almost actually forgotten that Simon was obeying his commands, and it wouldn't have occurred to him that that might have been one.
Simon made a noise that may have been a moan if it weren't muffled by the current disposition of his mouth and drew back, swirling his tongue around Roger's cock one last time and planting a kiss on the tip. He began to rise, one hand steadying himself on the mattress and the other unbuttoning his own clothing, intending to pull Roger to him for a kiss; but he was checked halfway up by the short rein he was on, and he growled at the interruption.
Roger's eyes opened with the movement, but he didn't get a chance to react with a laugh or apology before Simon was pressing him down into the bed, kissing him ruthlessly.
