caelus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
receptacles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trailblazers2024-03-31 04:14 pm
receptacles) wrote in trailblazers2024-03-31 04:14 pm
007 » can’t i find love without it being so sensational
fanart by
for luocha at casketeer.
fanart by
for luocha at casketeer.
fanart by
for luocha at casketeer.
no subject
...But all the same. All the same. Isn't there something blasphemously novel about this? To be rendered at the helpless mercy of another--to be pulled open and vulnerable--to have no say in any of it, no role but to receive. ...It has been a very long time since these things were last felt, if indeed Luocha ever has. After so long treading through a journey where his grip on his circumstances cannot soften for even a moment--where he must pursue the promise without rest--isn't it different, to have the control forcibly ripped from his hands, if only in this brief window of time in this quiet cell?
Isn't it disgusting? Isn't it thrilling? Isn't it intoxicating, as all terrible poisons are?
--Too much, not enough and too much. It's overwhelming, the way Caelus's hips continue pushing into him through his orgasm, the way his hot mouth closes against Luocha's neck and teeth sink into skin--a wonderful sear of pain twining with the sinking tide of pleasure, the damp press of tongue against the wound yet another contrasting sensation to contend with. Caelus might be slowing his pace slightly as Luocha comes down--an insulting display of consideration in its own right, probably, if Luocha were aware enough of it to actually have any thought on the matter--but the slide and pulse of that hard cock inside him is still an over-stimulation that briefly peaks to a sort of numbness. Nearly enough of a reprieve for Luocha's panting breath to draw back in a bit deeper, for the involuntary sounds leaving his throat to be quelled. For some semblance of a line of thought to nearly settle back into the haze of his head, something about a revulsion at this, a resentment at how undeniably good this feels--
And then the grip on Luocha's hips is vice-like again, dragging his pleasure-pliant body into a new position that turns his hips and spreads his thighs even more obscenely. There's barely enough time to even register the shift before Caelus is fucking into him anew, that harsh pace of earlier picking up again--that punishing cock pushing right into his prostate at a new and even deeper angle that tears a new choked moan from Luocha's lungs. The over-sensitive walls of his hole shiver and tighten weakly around the Trailblazer's length once more, not that it does anything at all to alleviate the brutal rhythm--numbness is throttled up into a new burst of pleasure, nearly circling around to painful once more in its sharpness, pulsing through every nerve ending with every thrust. There's no room to breathe around it, to think around it. It's cruel and torturous and some traitorous part of him still can't get enough of it--
Caelus comes. He must have, the way he clutches and sinks into Luocha all the way to the hilt and his hips still, the way he's finally making a pleasured groaning sound of his own, gasping and trembling. It's an intimately familiar sight--a sight that Luocha had once relished bringing about himself, unraveling the boy under his own hands time and time again in those encounters past--but the feelings accompanying it couldn't be more different, here and now, this sticky damp heat of being claimed as he's filled with the boy's cum. Worse still--thrillingly still--he can't do anything in response to this, can't pull away or push closer. Luocha can only tremble and shift his hips minutely while Caelus works through his post-orgasmic bliss, panting under the acute sensation of the cock still filling him, every slight movement a new light stroke against his too-sensitive walls and abused prostate. Under this much stimulation his own cock is starting to grow half hard again already; the world is a hot and lightheaded haze once more, save for Caelus's face as he leans near, reaches behind the seat.
Luocha hadn't realized how acute the numb ache in his arms had grown until they're being moved, pins and needles at his fingertips after an indeterminate amount of time spent straining reflexively and repeatedly against the cuffs on his wrists. ...He doesn't have the presence of mind to try struggling, as Caelus adjusts the bindings until Luocha's hands are pinned over his head against the back of the seat, but it's somehow a new wave of helpless vulnerability to be displayed like this. Adjusted into new pretty poses as if he were some sort of doll for the pleasured viewing of Caelus and the Ten-Lords all alike--and maybe he may as well be, at this point. Embers of a proud frustration still flicker, at this; Luocha wants to demand that Caelus unshackle him, wants use of his hands again so that he might at least be able to touch and grip and claw any initiative back, reap some kind of vengeance for all he's been made to receive--
His head has tipped back against the seat, too heavy to keep raised at some point in the last minute or so of coaxed ecstasy. It's only in this slight lull now that Luocha tries to lift it again, and level a glare up at Caelus once more--diminished as the effect probably is by the unfocus in his eyes...]
--Bastard. [Panted out at length, venom still tinged with too much lust--he just can't seem to modulate his own tone anymore--] You...you've craved this just as much. [Perhaps Caelus always has, since that very first encounter. Perhaps being linked with a Stellaron's nature made it inevitable. Luocha's hands curl into fists.] How much more--do you plan to take, before you're satisfied?
[The Trailblazer's still inside him, after all. Of course, some lingering fragment of a thought muses feverishly, it'd be too much to expect that Caelus would be content with only one round of release; the boy always had been in possession of a notable recovery. Fascinating to observe and tease upon in times past; sickening to remember now. (Thrilling, too, that traitorous part of him still whispers--the part that tingles down to his cock, an anticipation against all reason.)]
no subject
...However much it'll take to get you to remember me, I guess?
[ And that says a lot more about why Caelus is doing this than the entire "monologue" he'd given prior to starting it in earnest — but the Trailblazer doesn't linger on himself. He moves swiftly on, tugging and jerking Luocha's spent and recovering cock with soft, patient strokes, letting the filthy mixture of cum and precum squelch and slip between his fingers, over their skin. He wants to see the haze of pleasure come over Luocha's pretty features again. He wants to hear the blond make those sweet, broken sounds, glare at him with that intoxicating mixture of hatred and lust, flashes of anger still flaring through his green eyes whenever he remembers that he should feel shame.
He wants, he wants, he wants. The Stellaron urges his greed onward, tells him that everything in the universe belongs to him.
(He knows. Really, he knows. Even in another life where Luocha did not commit the crime which he has been accused of — even if he had genuinely been a trinket-selling merchant with no other aspirations to speak of — Caelus would have been nothing more than a bit of fun. A handsome face with a willing mouth and a pleasing body to be fucked and forgotten about by the time Luocha reached the next harbor. And it's not like Caelus hates that — it's not like he doesn't know that the universe is just that cold and unfeeling most of the time — but still. He wanted something different.
It's not Luocha's fault. It's not Luocha's fault that he wants something more out of life that no one is able to provide him, and maybe that's the real conflict here, the real reason he's doing all of this. The real reason that he —)
He stops moving his hand once Luocha's cock is standing proudly erect at its most full and flushed, opting to move his hips instead. Slow this time, not the frantic pace at which he was taking pleasure out of Luocha's body before. He rocks in and out of Luocha's wet hole, gentle and unhurried, as he takes the time to admire the beautiful body stretched out beneath him. Acting on a sudden impulse, Caelus leans down and takes one of Luocha's nipples into his mouth; he runs his tongue along it until he feels it peak and pebble, then sinks his teeth into the gorgeous white flesh around its pink base, sucking hard on Luocha's tit and drinking deep of his blood like he loves the taste of iron in his mouth. Pain and pleasure, mingled, indistinguishable. He knows what gets Luocha off if nothing else. ]
...You get tighter when you talk. It's cute. [ He resurfaces, licking his lips, still bouncing his hips gently into Luocha's body. ] You should hear the sounds you're making — they're cute, too.
[ Caelus licks the blood from his mouth, and then leans in for another kiss, just as slow and unhurried, even a little loving. He wonders if Luocha feels revulsion, taking this kind of affection from him now. But there's no genuine attempt at empathy. There's a part of him that doesn't care how Luocha is feeling as long as the man's reactions are telling him that he feels good.
It's a shame that his arms are pinned above his head, but it's fine. When Caelus wraps his arms around the man's waist, and breathes deep of his tempting floral scent... it's enough affection for him that he can pretend. ]
Luocha. [ Nuzzling into his neck, so gentle. The beast pacified for the moment. ] Luocha...
[ Only for the moment, though.
He knows Luocha doesn't really care for the boy. He knows Luocha is a man more used to dealing with beasts. ]
Hey, turn around for me?
[ "For me," the beast says, but Luocha doesn't actually get a say in it. Suddenly — the cuffs allow for the captor to reposition the captive, but not for the captive to reposition themselves — Caelus picks up Luocha's body and manhandles him enough that he turns the man's hips around while he's on Caelus's cock, and the Trailblazer lets out a soft breath at the sensation, oh, now that's an interesting feeling — but this way, Luocha's belly is pressed against the back of the chair, and his long golden hair is splayed against his beautiful back, and Caelus can and does fuck him from behind like an animal, both hands on the man's hips slamming him back into the Trailblazer's still-hard cock.
Groaning gratefully for the waves of pleasure cresting low in his belly and high in his head, Caelus takes one hand off Luocha's sweet ass just to seize some of that beautiful long hair at the crown of his head and pull his head back. Nothing crazy. It's just to get a bit of leverage, and just because it's hot, getting to pull Luocha's pretty hair like this. ]
Mm, yeah. [ Over the lewd sounds of skin against skin, all wet lovemaking and unholy union — ] Always wanted to fuck you like this. Even the first time we met.
no subject
Telling indeed. And what an irony it is...that Caelus thought he'd be forgotten in the first place. Even without any of the sex--even if they had only ever been simple passing acquaintances, a few words exchanged on the Express and nothing more--Luocha wouldn't have forgotten him, no, that newest member of the Nameless with a stable stellar cancer for a heart, rife with mystery and potential both alike. (Traits a truly simple merchant drifting from harbor to harbor wouldn't have noticed, ever more ironically; here is an intrerest burgeoned as a direct result of the strange interstellar terrorist he's become.) Caelus had been a puzzle it wasn't time to piece together, yet--a puzzle that shouldn't have yet been pursued, really. The temptation to investigate it just a bit more had been a mistake, in the end, indeed due in part to the Trailblazer's handsome face and willing mouth and pleasing body. The sex that had happened anyhow was an indulgence far beyond the necessary, with repercussions he'd thoroughly neglected to calculate...repercussions he's certainly reaping now. ...But none of it was "forgettable". Yes, Luocha had always somewhat suspected their paths would cross again down the line, considering the angle of his own set goal...
But perhaps being remembered isn't the full phrase for what Caelus is seeking here either. Not quite.
The hints are abundant, after all, in the gratingly gentle lull. The soft way Caelus strokes Luocha's cum-slick cock, patiently coaxing it to fullness once more. The unhurried way the boy's hips start rocking at length, already hard again yet apparently briefly content to savor the feeling; languid strums of a slower simmering pleasure that Luocha's gasping breaths can't help but fall in sync with, as the sensation of being filled with cock sinks in all the more thoroughly. ...Though the air does stammer in his lungs when that mouth closes over one of his nipples, hot wet tongue giving way to pricking teeth and bruising lips--sweet jolting sensation and another sear of pain all mingled together, dragging a strained whine from Luocha's throat and a shuddering shiver through his frame and a fresh drip of precum from his tip.
He does tighten again making the noise, too, which makes it all the more mortifying when Caelus goes on to remark on it. Another flicker of anger across eyes unwillingly hazing in new pleasure--shut up, shut up, or so Luocha wants to bite out, except by then the Trailblazer's already lifting his head and kissing him again, swallowing his sounds...and he can still taste a bit of his own blood on the boy's tongue. Can still find a revulsion, yes, in the way that so easily coils a renewed heat in his gut. Revulsion at that, and revulsion at the loving softness of the mouth on his own too, so carelessly contrasting the act it's being paired with.
Knowingly going through the motions of a one-sided affection. Just the same as the arms wrapping around his waist, the enamored breath taken against his neck, the name crooned on his skin. A deceptively heartfelt sort of indulgence, warped into something predatory by the Stellaron's greedy influence. Perhaps what Caelus wanted was to be remembered fondly, but now he settles just for being remembered at all--even if it's blackly, bitterly--so long as he can indulge in a facsimile for even a moment, here in this way that cannot be rebuffed. ...And a facsimile is all it can be, at this point, because Luocha truly couldn't have granted him anything else. Even if this particular encounter in this cell had never transpired. What Caelus wants out of life is something Luocha is indeed entirely incapable of giving him--at least not right now, not like this. Not when it would take a great deal more time, and rather more circumstance, to even begin filling the empty thing currently sitting where Luocha's heart was.
And so, since there's nothing sincerely warm for it to give, Caelus takes instead. ...Takes what is there, anyway. The lasting vindiction of resentment, the easy consistency of bodily pleasure--far more attainable, tangible things.
It's a conclusion Luocha will likely draw eventually. Long after this is done. When his head is finally fully clear once more, and he isn't being--
--turned on top of Caelus's cock, a distinct sensation for a fact, enough so to startle a choked gasp from Luocha as well; there's something particularly degrading about realizing he's already been fucked loose enough and filled wetly enough for this to be done. But the fleeting thought has no time to really solidify before he's being positioned against the back of the chair, knees on the seat and thighs forced apart in this unconventional posture, and--Caelus does rail into him from behind like an animal, a beast insatiable. Gripping fresh bruises into Luocha's hips, dragging him back onto his cock, setting a new vicious rhythm.
Better than the gentleness. Yes, better, preferable--even as it's not, even as a renewed sense of humiliation twines with the vindicating burn of it. It somehow feels even filthier, being fucked like this, between the base irreverence of the new position and the obscenely slick way the Trailblazer's cock pumps into his hole still damp with cum--on top of being yet another new angle for his prostate to be struck against. Each pulse a renewed spike of painful pleasure, forcing sharp breaths from Luocha that eventually can't help but warm into ragged reluctant moans anew. Belly periodically pressed against the back of the chair, and his own flushed and leaking cock brushing against it too with every thrust, a maddeningly paltry substitution for the touch of a palming hand that still might--be enough--isn't that blasphemous? When it feels all the more as if he's being used like a cocksleeve, a pretty toy for Caelus to fill as he pleases, all under the watch of invisible eyes...
Dignity loathes it, yet his body revels in it, every nerve alight like a live wire, relishing the ache of oversensitivity. Caelus's harsh grip would have ensured it regardless, but Luocha's hips still mindlessly grind back against the push of that hard cock of their own volition...and that's even before a hand reaches up to fist in his hair. Seizing long locks, pulling--yielding a new and particularly filthy moan, a shudder running through his entire body. Luocha's back arches prettily into the tugging, the hollow of his throat exposed like an animal's to a predator as his head's tipped back. It shouldn't--feel this delicious--yet it does, something in the vulnerability of it, the careless leverage of it. Paired with the pleasure still being pounded into him--]
Fuck--n-no...I don't-- [He's going to come, again, for all that a large part of him doesn't want to--not this soon, not like this, on Caelus's cock once more, like he can't get enough of it. How he'd begged for something harsh and punishing earlier--how he's receiving it now, just as he'd wanted it--yet Luocha truly is always at war with his own body, and at this point he's barely aware of the choked words spilling from his lips himself. The weak protest aloud can't override the ecstasy of being manhandled in this sort of way; he wants to stop himself (touch himself), the hands still bound immobile in front of him curled into fists tight enough to dig crescents in his palms to no avail. A particularly deep thrust rolls his hips, brushes him against the back of the chair yet again.] Caelus--
[Half a plea, half a moan, as green eyes flicker shut and he spills over the seat, body shivering, tight and hot around Caelus a second time.]
no subject
Does he have any idea how he looks right now? Like a whore to be claimed, posing prettily for the cameras still trained on him, their digital lenses focused on his every twitch and shudder and desperate movement, as if the vision of his face in the throes of sex-induced ecstasy might tell them his Aeonic secrets? Does he have any idea how he feels, hot and wet and tight but soft and flexible — utterly loosened to Caelus's whims, unable to resist even the Trailblazer's deepest and most punishing thrusts? Truly, he's the perfect fuckdoll right now, Caelus's beautiful cocksleeve — proud and pretty but moaning and reacting in ways that a simple sex toy couldn't ever aspire to.
And it feels so good. To have finally made Luocha say his name. Not that he hasn't said it before, in the past — but he always made Caelus beg for that acknowledgment, implicitly in behavior if not explicitly on his knees, and it feels so euphoric to have made him say it like that, begging for a mercy that Caelus will not and cannot give him. Not when he's so lovely, and smells so addictive, that Caelus doesn't want to let go of him. Not when he looks so good with his cum spilled out in a mess all over the seat beneath him. He looks so good that Caelus grits his teeth and surrenders blindly to the white-hot pleasure searing through his lower belly, coming deep inside of him, filling him with filthy wet slick once more. So much. There's just so much.
For a moment, they're both sated, taking shaking, shuddering breaths. But only for a moment. ]
Luocha...
[ It's so fucked up. He's so fucked up. Saying the man's false name like that, in that besotted, love-drunk voice. Doing things like this, with the Ten-Lords Commission watching and judging their sins, until their bodies are coated with sweat and no amount of sanitation will ever make this cell feel clean again. Luocha feels so pliant, finally, that Caelus feels comfortable reaching fingers into his pretty mouth, his soft fingerpads feeling out and pressing into Luocha's silken tongue. It's squishy and wet and slippery and he likes it. All of it. His fingers reaching into the back of Luocha's throat, knuckles eased carefully against his teeth so that it won't hurt much even if the man locates the wherewithal to bite down.
His mouth feels so wet. He should have fucked Luocha's mouth when he had the chance. Actually, there's nothing stopping him from working up to that later. Calmly, Caelus puts that at the back of his mind. ]
It's too bad. They should let me have you. [ He's just rambling; he doesn't believe any of this. It's only a madman's idle wishes. Dirty talk to make Luocha feel that glorious mixture of arousal and shame. ] I could lock you up on the Express, fuck you whenever I want. Make you cum like this, over and over and over, every day. Would you like that?
[ Caelus is certain that the answer is no, but it doesn't matter. With his fingers in Luocha's mouth, clumsily pressing into the back of his tongue to steal his breath away, the merchant probably can't answer him anyway. He might be choking Luocha a bit more than he intends to, with this; he's not going to be as skilled at it as Luocha was with him. But he learns. He's always been good at that. Caelus learns quick, and all too well. ]
Our bodies are so compatible. Whatever fucked up shit Yaoshi did to you plays pretty nice with a Stellaron, huh? I bet we could fuck until the Xianzhou goes under.
[ He can find a certain humor in it. If Luocha has the Abundance's blessing, either as an Emanator or as a mara-struck monstrosity or as something else entirely, it is very funny that it's given him insatiable sexual stamina to match Caelus's own, and a deliciously addictive scent. There's trashy smut on the Luofu about alphas and omegas that goes something like this. Humming, entirely too pleased, Caelus nuzzles into his cloud of silken hair, affectionate, filling his lungs with the scent of white flowers.
It gets him hard. Again.
Licking his lips, he pulls his hand out of Luocha's mouth to adjusts his grip on Luocha's waist, pulling him back one more time — ]
Sorry, babe. I'm not done yet. One more time...?
no subject
So, yes, it's a bit difficult to respond in any way to those filthy words. They're heard, in rather the same way one might hear sounds just under the surface of water; there's still a shamed arousal to be derived from them, the picture Caelus so roughly paints of the marvel of Luocha's body, what he'd do with it in a degenerate's fantasy. --They are, physically, distinctly compatible in such an incidental way it's almost comical--between the rarity of a Stellaron-housing human vessel, and the likely similar novelty of whatever it really is going on between Luocha and the Abundance. An exception that enabled him to deliver a Stellaron to the Luofu unscathed...and an exception that now also renders his body uniquely qualified to, apparently, weather the unfettered unnatural greed of Caelus's own. Oh, there's salacious novelists out there who'd truly leap at the premise...
(The greatest irony of all, really, being that even Luocha himself hasn't actually been aware of this particular "boon" of his contract with Yaoshi. Sex being an appetite occasionally indulged, but never overly long, a self-imposed brevity...so it's not, exactly, as if he's ever taken the time to test the extent before now. Nor encountered anyone who could administer such a test to begin with. Knowledge he'd have been content never discovering, objectively, and yet here they are now--both of them insatiable, the Stellaron in Caelus's body ever craving to take and take, the persistence in Luocha's body ever drawing pleasure from adversity, blending far too well with his own irrational masochism--)
This, too, is an adversity. Being choked beyond Caelus's intention, mouth wet and hot and yielding around those fingers because there's eventually no choice, because there's no room to think of anything at all, much less about biting down. Luocha's body reflexively shudders, struggles for air, bound hands wishing to grab but tugged against cuffs. Head and frame trying to recoil from that obstructing hand only to press back against Caelus's body, still draped over him and cock still inside him in some perverse facsimile of a nuzzling embrace. Eyelids flutter over glassy eyes; it's a strain just to swallow; his head is light, straying into too light, and it's...there is another sort of pleasure in this, which is the worst part. This dulling of even the sharpest corners of thought, whether he wants it or not--a sort of mental quiet he'd never permit himself, on his own terms. Letting the world blur out, letting his body ride through the rest--
--Caelus pulls his fingers back out, and the breaths wetly gasped back in are an ecstasy too, restored air yet another too-heady rush to his head. Luocha doesn't really hear that question asked at all--not that it matters, of course, not that any answer he might give would make any difference--only feels the renewed grip on his waist, the too-slick slide and fill of being fully pulled back onto Caelus's hardening cock. Again. Maybe some sort of desperate sound slips from his throat at the sensation; maybe there's a brief shake of his head, more impulsive than anything, as much to try clearing the haze as to reject the inevitable. But, traitorous still, savoring the strain, his body hums with anticipation of more. Pliant and arching into Caelus's hands, cock spent but twitching anew--]
no subject
He has Luocha every single way that he can think of. Fucks him like that, backwards on the chair again, one hand stroking the man's cock in time with his rhythmic thrusts. Then one more time, something between sideways and missionary, so that Caelus can see the way Luocha's rapid breaths make his chest swell and tremble. He figures out a way to suspend the cuffs from the ceiling and then takes Luocha like that, with the man's weight fully held up on his arms and their chains. Caelus decides that he likes fucking Luocha on the suspension system; he doesn't have to put effort into thrusting into the man, can just push and pull him and watch his body glide, effortless, on the swing created by the chains. He fucks Luocha another four times just to figure out all the ways he can hang the blond from the ceiling, then lets the man down and cleans them both off with his own white shirt. Pauses to pour himself some tea; holds the cup to Luocha's lips and makes him drink some too, just to wet his throat. Just to soothe his throat before he slips his cock into Luocha's mouth and enjoys the moist heat from the tea in earnest, fucking Luocha's throat with wild and reckless abandon. Pulls him up once he's finished, sucks Luocha off in apology, drinks him down like his cum is as addictively sweet as his scent. Fucks him again. Sucks him off a second time. Fucks him again.
He does everything. Anything.
Debauched, deranged, desecrated.
Caelus really wouldn't stop at all, except for this one thing: eventually, mercifully, a voice crackles over the intercom in the room.
"Caelus," the voice says, in a low baritone, "I think you've made your point."
Caelus pauses.
The main reason he pauses is that he's pretty sure, he's reasonably sure, that the owner of the voice is not General Jing Yuan. But it sounds enough like Jing Yuan with a head cold and perhaps a mild hangover that the Trailblazer can't rule out the possibility that it is Jing Yuan.
He hopes it's not Jing Yuan, because that would be, well, rather embarrassing to say the least for literally everyone involved. The other problem, though, is that the voice addressed him with a weird sense of familiarity, and — well. Caelus doesn't want to think about it.
He looks down at Luocha, who has by now been used in every way, covered in cum both Caelus's and his own. His hair is a tangled mess, his cock seemingly reddened and darkened from how much it's been abused, his bruised flesh healing over into alabaster white again.
Gently, Caelus brushes some of his hair out of his face again. He thinks Luocha looks beautiful. ]
...Alright. [ He sighs, letting his hand drop. ] But you guys had better put his pants back together. Probably let him take a shower. It's not like he's going to run away anyway.
[ Caelus casts his eyes across the floor, taking mental inventory of his things and Luocha's things, all mingled together. His cum-stained shirt, that's over there — his coat and pants are on the floor — that's all he brought into the room, actually. His tea's gone cold.
The Trailblazer sighs again, thinly through his nose this time, and then turns to look at Luocha, who has by now been set back onto the chair to catch his breath. Patiently, warmly, Caelus leans in and kisses him on the crown of his head with all the patient affection of an older lover. ]
Guess this is goodbye, Luocha. If we're lucky, I guess we won't have to see each other again.
[ His smile seems to hurt himself more than it likely hurts Luocha. It's a bold thing to venture, after all he's done. ]