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maculategiraffeYesterday, as some of you noted, was my 25th birthday! It was a slightly insane birthday-- my students were all bouncing off the walls and I had to wait forever at the DMV (what do you mean birthday girls don't automatically get to jump the line?)-- but I got many lovely gifts, both in real life (copper teakettle, new Magnetic Fields CD, DVD of old-school Sesame Street, to name a few) and here! ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drjohn gave me a bunch of virtual balloons (so much more earth-friendly than the real sort), quill_lumos made me an absolutely stunningly gorgeous banner that I will eventually figure out how to put into my currently boring journal layout, shadowsonthesun made another gorgeous banner for The Slave Breakers, which ditto for the Slave Breakers main page, and morgan_cian dedicated a lovely little fic vignette to my birthday happiness. Thousands of thanks to you all!
And now to give back a little to the community.morgan_cian has been pestering encouraging me to write a scene involving Bran getting fucked in a suspension sling. At first I wasn't sure Holden and Alix even owned such a thing, but mature reflection informed me that of course the frakkin' slave breakers own a frakkin' sex sling, and when morgan_cian rose to my tagback challenge and wrote a sling fic herself, I caved and wrote this quickie, set sometime during Bran's first year with Holden. Bon appetit!
"What is it?" Bran asked, fascinated and appalled, examining the contrivance of black leather and gleaming metal that swung from the heavy hook in the training room ceiling.
Yves grinned. "It's a sling."
"But what--" Bran swallowed. "What's it for?"
"Come over here and I'll show you."
Bran backed up a step, and Yves laughed, holding out a hand.
"I wouldn't hurt you, kid," he said. "What, do I look like I have a death wish? Come on. I've been in it myself a handful of times-- and I've had the master in it, too, so it can't be that bad."
Bran's mouth opened a little as his eyes returned to the swing. "You-- he--"
"He's pretty damn good at chess," said Yves, "but even he loses a game every so often. Come on, Bran. Be a sport. I've been daydreaming about getting you in this thing."
Bran blushed despite himself as he came reluctantly closer and reached out to touch the cool leather of one of the straps, feeling butterflies startle in his stomach. He looked up at Yves, who smiled at him encouragingly.
"I'm supposed to be in it?" he asked.
"First," said Yves cheerfully, "you're supposed to be naked."
Nervously Bran pulled his tunic over his head and let Yves take it and toss it into a far corner.
"That's the boy," he said, and Bran smiled a little. "It's pretty simple. Up you get. Here. This goes under your hips-- spread your legs-- and now you can lean back against this, don't be shy, it'll hold-- and your wrists go here--"
Bran flinched when he heard the sharp click of a cuff locking into place around his wrist. "Yves--"
"It's okay," said Yves soothingly, stroking Bran's cheek and leaning down to kiss him gently on the lips. "This just makes you more secure, okay? You're not going to get hurt, Bran, trust me."
Biting his lips, Bran nodded and put up his other wrist to be secured. Yves locked it into place, then stroked Bran some more, his gentle caresses helping Bran adjust himself against the leather straps until he was fairly comfortable and beginning to relax into the odd sensation of being suspended above the floor. Grinning at him, Yves gave him a gentle push, and Bran squeaked faintly as he swung back and forth, his weight securely supported by the leather straps.
"Gods, you're gorgeous," Yves said, stroking the hair back from his forehead. "And now I'm going to blindfold you. I said I wasn't going to hurt you," he added to Bran's look of ill-concealed panic, "and I won't. Just trust me. The blindfold takes it to a whole different level."
Bran wasn't at all sure he wanted to be taken to a whole different level, not when he was already suspended in midair from a collection of black leather straps with his hands cuffed and Yves eyeing him like a robin that had just spotted a particularly fat and juicy worm. When the soft folded cloth had blotted out his vision, he swallowed hard; he hadn't anticipated the disorientation that would come with being both suspended and blinded, and when Yves gave him another gentle push, he made a small, wavering sound as the whole world seemed to shift around him.
"You have no idea how fucking sexy you are right now," said Yves, one hand suddenly cupping the nape of Bran's neck, the other stroking his chest. Soft, warm lips touched Bran's, and Bran, hungry for the orienting touch, kissed Yves back eagerly; when the lips retreated; Bran's protesting movement set the swing rocking again. "Steady there, kiddo. We're just getting started."
Bran had felt Yves' mouth on him before, in most of the places it touched now, but never like this, never when it was almost the only thing he could feel, or that told him where he was and what was being done to him. Yves licked him, sucked his nipples and his lips and his earlobes and his knees, tickled Bran into a fit of the giggles with his tongue and then bit down sharply enough to make Bran cry out. He wanted to reach out, find Yves' body with his hands, but he couldn't move his arms, and every time he moved the rest of his body the sling rocked dizzyingly.
"Please," he said. The sound of his own voice startled him, sounding too loud in the darkness, and he stopped.
"Please what, beautiful?" Yves asked softly in his ear.
"Please," Bran said again, though without much hope; Yves liked teasing him too much to cut to the chase so soon. But he wanted Yves filling him, badly, wanted to feel the hard, hot, slick flesh inside him, stroking and steadying in a familiar rhythm, hands bracing him-- "Yves, please-- need you-- need you to fuck me."
"Gods," Yves half groaned, and hands were on him, moving him into position, then pushing slicked fingers inside him so eagerly Bran hissed in surprise. "Sorry, sorry, did I hurt you?"
"No," Bran gasped. "Don't stop, please, need your cock, Yves, need you fucking me--"
"Keep talking like that and you'll be lucky if I last long enough to get all the way in," said Yves, sounding a little breathless himself. "Here-- you ready?"
"Yes, please, now--"
And sobbed with relief as he was breached, Yves' hands digging into his hips as he pulled Bran slowly forward, sliding him down his hard cock until Bran's heavy balls pushed with an agonizing pleasure against Yves' groin. Yves didn't move except to swing Bran gently, methodically to and fro on his cock, increasing the depth a little with each push, until he was pulling Bran nearly off him altogether; Bran whined and tried to writhe, and Yves suddenly let go so that gravity slammed Bran back down the length of Yves' cock and he screamed. Yves groaned and pulsed hard inside Bran, swinging him now in short, sharp jerks up and down the last two inches of his cock as he came, then pushing him slowly back and off the softening shaft. Bran's own cock was aching, and he was about to start begging for his own release-- begging was rarely the wrong move with Yves--- when, with a shock, he heard his master's voice.
"Yves?"
"In here, master," Yves called back immediately, while a wave of something close to panic hit Bran. His master might be willing to suspend his jealousy to share him with the other slaves, but that didn't mean he'd take kindly to the sight of Bran blinded, cuffed, spread wide, and leaking someone else's seed. It wasn't that he thought Holden would be unfair enough to punish him, but the thought of his master's disgust at the sight of him now made him want to curl up and hide. Unfortunately, that had rarely been a less viable option.
"Yves?" Holden's voice said again, closer, and then, "Oh sweet holy gods."
"Right?" Yves crowed. "Tell me again about how the sling's too much trouble to set up for too little payoff."
"Shut up and shove over," said Holden, and Bran waited, alone and blind and dangling, his face hot and his body trembling as if with a fever. At the feather-light touch on his leg, his cock, already hard, jumped perpendicular to his body. "Bran?"
"Master?" Bran whispered.
"You okay there, kid?" Holden asked as a hand caressed his inner thigh. Bran could have wept with relief at the touch and at the mingled tenderness and lust in his master's tone.
"Yes, master," he managed, as the hand strayed down to his exposed, freshly fucked hole, slipping a finger carefully inside. "Oh, gods, master, yes, please--"
"You like that?" Holden asked softly, slipping in a second finger as the hand that wasn't half inside him closed, slippery with lubricant, around his cock.
"Want you-- need you-- please, master, please, please, need you to fuck me, please," Bran babbled, any thought of self-control lost in the feeling of one firm, careful hand impaling him, steadying him, while the other pulled at his throbbing cock with long, strong strokes.
"You'd think he hadn't been fucked for more than-- oh, ninety seconds," said Yves with a grin in his voice. "Go on, master. Maybe you'll dig out the sling more often, after this."
drjohn gave me a bunch of virtual balloons (so much more earth-friendly than the real sort), quill_lumos made me an absolutely stunningly gorgeous banner that I will eventually figure out how to put into my currently boring journal layout, shadowsonthesun made another gorgeous banner for The Slave Breakers, which ditto for the Slave Breakers main page, and morgan_cian dedicated a lovely little fic vignette to my birthday happiness. Thousands of thanks to you all!And now to give back a little to the community.
morgan_cian has been morgan_cian rose to my tagback challenge and wrote a sling fic herself, I caved and wrote this quickie, set sometime during Bran's first year with Holden. Bon appetit!"What is it?" Bran asked, fascinated and appalled, examining the contrivance of black leather and gleaming metal that swung from the heavy hook in the training room ceiling.
Yves grinned. "It's a sling."
"But what--" Bran swallowed. "What's it for?"
"Come over here and I'll show you."
Bran backed up a step, and Yves laughed, holding out a hand.
"I wouldn't hurt you, kid," he said. "What, do I look like I have a death wish? Come on. I've been in it myself a handful of times-- and I've had the master in it, too, so it can't be that bad."
Bran's mouth opened a little as his eyes returned to the swing. "You-- he--"
"He's pretty damn good at chess," said Yves, "but even he loses a game every so often. Come on, Bran. Be a sport. I've been daydreaming about getting you in this thing."
Bran blushed despite himself as he came reluctantly closer and reached out to touch the cool leather of one of the straps, feeling butterflies startle in his stomach. He looked up at Yves, who smiled at him encouragingly.
"I'm supposed to be in it?" he asked.
"First," said Yves cheerfully, "you're supposed to be naked."
Nervously Bran pulled his tunic over his head and let Yves take it and toss it into a far corner.
"That's the boy," he said, and Bran smiled a little. "It's pretty simple. Up you get. Here. This goes under your hips-- spread your legs-- and now you can lean back against this, don't be shy, it'll hold-- and your wrists go here--"
Bran flinched when he heard the sharp click of a cuff locking into place around his wrist. "Yves--"
"It's okay," said Yves soothingly, stroking Bran's cheek and leaning down to kiss him gently on the lips. "This just makes you more secure, okay? You're not going to get hurt, Bran, trust me."
Biting his lips, Bran nodded and put up his other wrist to be secured. Yves locked it into place, then stroked Bran some more, his gentle caresses helping Bran adjust himself against the leather straps until he was fairly comfortable and beginning to relax into the odd sensation of being suspended above the floor. Grinning at him, Yves gave him a gentle push, and Bran squeaked faintly as he swung back and forth, his weight securely supported by the leather straps.
"Gods, you're gorgeous," Yves said, stroking the hair back from his forehead. "And now I'm going to blindfold you. I said I wasn't going to hurt you," he added to Bran's look of ill-concealed panic, "and I won't. Just trust me. The blindfold takes it to a whole different level."
Bran wasn't at all sure he wanted to be taken to a whole different level, not when he was already suspended in midair from a collection of black leather straps with his hands cuffed and Yves eyeing him like a robin that had just spotted a particularly fat and juicy worm. When the soft folded cloth had blotted out his vision, he swallowed hard; he hadn't anticipated the disorientation that would come with being both suspended and blinded, and when Yves gave him another gentle push, he made a small, wavering sound as the whole world seemed to shift around him.
"You have no idea how fucking sexy you are right now," said Yves, one hand suddenly cupping the nape of Bran's neck, the other stroking his chest. Soft, warm lips touched Bran's, and Bran, hungry for the orienting touch, kissed Yves back eagerly; when the lips retreated; Bran's protesting movement set the swing rocking again. "Steady there, kiddo. We're just getting started."
Bran had felt Yves' mouth on him before, in most of the places it touched now, but never like this, never when it was almost the only thing he could feel, or that told him where he was and what was being done to him. Yves licked him, sucked his nipples and his lips and his earlobes and his knees, tickled Bran into a fit of the giggles with his tongue and then bit down sharply enough to make Bran cry out. He wanted to reach out, find Yves' body with his hands, but he couldn't move his arms, and every time he moved the rest of his body the sling rocked dizzyingly.
"Please," he said. The sound of his own voice startled him, sounding too loud in the darkness, and he stopped.
"Please what, beautiful?" Yves asked softly in his ear.
"Please," Bran said again, though without much hope; Yves liked teasing him too much to cut to the chase so soon. But he wanted Yves filling him, badly, wanted to feel the hard, hot, slick flesh inside him, stroking and steadying in a familiar rhythm, hands bracing him-- "Yves, please-- need you-- need you to fuck me."
"Gods," Yves half groaned, and hands were on him, moving him into position, then pushing slicked fingers inside him so eagerly Bran hissed in surprise. "Sorry, sorry, did I hurt you?"
"No," Bran gasped. "Don't stop, please, need your cock, Yves, need you fucking me--"
"Keep talking like that and you'll be lucky if I last long enough to get all the way in," said Yves, sounding a little breathless himself. "Here-- you ready?"
"Yes, please, now--"
And sobbed with relief as he was breached, Yves' hands digging into his hips as he pulled Bran slowly forward, sliding him down his hard cock until Bran's heavy balls pushed with an agonizing pleasure against Yves' groin. Yves didn't move except to swing Bran gently, methodically to and fro on his cock, increasing the depth a little with each push, until he was pulling Bran nearly off him altogether; Bran whined and tried to writhe, and Yves suddenly let go so that gravity slammed Bran back down the length of Yves' cock and he screamed. Yves groaned and pulsed hard inside Bran, swinging him now in short, sharp jerks up and down the last two inches of his cock as he came, then pushing him slowly back and off the softening shaft. Bran's own cock was aching, and he was about to start begging for his own release-- begging was rarely the wrong move with Yves--- when, with a shock, he heard his master's voice.
"Yves?"
"In here, master," Yves called back immediately, while a wave of something close to panic hit Bran. His master might be willing to suspend his jealousy to share him with the other slaves, but that didn't mean he'd take kindly to the sight of Bran blinded, cuffed, spread wide, and leaking someone else's seed. It wasn't that he thought Holden would be unfair enough to punish him, but the thought of his master's disgust at the sight of him now made him want to curl up and hide. Unfortunately, that had rarely been a less viable option.
"Yves?" Holden's voice said again, closer, and then, "Oh sweet holy gods."
"Right?" Yves crowed. "Tell me again about how the sling's too much trouble to set up for too little payoff."
"Shut up and shove over," said Holden, and Bran waited, alone and blind and dangling, his face hot and his body trembling as if with a fever. At the feather-light touch on his leg, his cock, already hard, jumped perpendicular to his body. "Bran?"
"Master?" Bran whispered.
"You okay there, kid?" Holden asked as a hand caressed his inner thigh. Bran could have wept with relief at the touch and at the mingled tenderness and lust in his master's tone.
"Yes, master," he managed, as the hand strayed down to his exposed, freshly fucked hole, slipping a finger carefully inside. "Oh, gods, master, yes, please--"
"You like that?" Holden asked softly, slipping in a second finger as the hand that wasn't half inside him closed, slippery with lubricant, around his cock.
"Want you-- need you-- please, master, please, please, need you to fuck me, please," Bran babbled, any thought of self-control lost in the feeling of one firm, careful hand impaling him, steadying him, while the other pulled at his throbbing cock with long, strong strokes.
"You'd think he hadn't been fucked for more than-- oh, ninety seconds," said Yves with a grin in his voice. "Go on, master. Maybe you'll dig out the sling more often, after this."
