Recurrence [Jonna/Hannu]
Apr. 21st, 2016 07:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Recurrence
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Jonna/Hannu, established relationship
Rating: 18+ for sex (& bondage etc)
Length: 1.5k
Summary: She takes her time, laughs at his impatience, and makes him wait.
Other: Something quick, just for fun. Fills a square in the 100-prompt challenge table, #70: Bound and gagged.
*Martti drew some awesome fanart based on this fic, and you can view it over here! :D
Recurrence
The tape is new. The blindfold isn't.
Hannu breathes through his nose. Slow. Steady. This isn't the first time they've done this together. But it's different this time. A little.
Slow. Steady. Breathe.
He feels lightheaded. The tape isn't the reason for it. Not exactly. It's everything else, too. The cloth covering his eyes. The rope at his wrists.
Jonna's hands moving.
She touches his face, slides her fingertips along his cheeks. Pauses. Tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Then lets her hands drop, trailing along his shoulders, down, over the thin fabric of his shirt.
It's familiar, because it's not the first time, and he's become used to the way it feels to go along with her ideas. The warmth of her hands, the weight of her body as she straddles him. Hannu breathes shakily, tries not to think of other times, because thinking will just make it that much more difficult not to get more and more dazed and impatient with each second that passes.
It's hard. He's hard, and it's obvious, and that's the worst thing of all. Uncomfortable, and obvious, and he can't do anything about it. She hasn't touched him, but he knows that she's noticed. There's no way Jonna hasn't noticed. It's right there.
But she asked him to keep his clothes on – well. Told him to. So it must be part of her plan to make him as embarrassed as possible. And as uncomfortable as possible.
She sure as hell managed that.
Heat spreads over his cheeks as he tries not to think about how the fact that his discomfort was on purpose makes it hotter. Somehow. He doesn't want to think about how. Or why. He closes his eyes under the blindfold and tries to ignore it.
Lips at his neck. Hardly more than a brush, but it makes his breath quicken anyway. Hannu tries desperately to think of anything else. Jonna's taking her time, and it isn't doing him any good. Not that he's in any position to complain about it. The best he can do is fidget a little – and that just gets him pressed more firmly against the mattress, one hand going to his bound wrists to hold them pinned above his head.
Then her mouth is at his ear, grazing it, like she wants to say something. Her body is soft above him, her breasts flush against his chest, and he'd groan if it weren't for that fucking tape.
"Hey."
The voice by his ear is quiet. Not whispery. Not trying to be sexy. Jonna doesn't do sexy. But there's an edge to her voice, something that slips into his veins, slides its way down Hannu's spine. Her hair brushes his cheek. He swallows and waits.
"Do you remember that time we tied you up and left you out in the shed? A few years ago."
A noise slips out of him, somehow, even if the tape muffles it. Yeah, Hannu thinks, I remember. He remembers the two of them grabbing him, pulling him to the floor. Jonna's weight on him as her brother tied the knots firm enough that he wouldn't get out of them, not any time soon. Tape over his mouth. But his eyes weren't covered then, not like they are now, and he could see every smirk. Every grin. Her laughing eyes.
"I figured you wouldn't forget." A pause. She strokes his cheek. Brushes warm fingertips along his collarbone. "It turned you on. Didn't it."
How the hell do you expect me to answer that?! Hannu thinks. But the answer was obvious then, and it's obvious now, by the way he flushes under her touch, eyes fluttering beneath the blindfold. Shudders at the way her hands drift over his chest. He breathes. Tries to ground himself, put away the memory. Concentrates instead on the way it feels as her hands slide down, down, over fabric, reaching his waistband. Jonna's over him, straddling his thighs, but that isn't where he wants her to be.
It's probably better this way, Hannu thinks wearily.
With the way she's drawing it out, if she were over his hips, it'd be enough to make him come in his pants. The thought hisses at the back of his mind, makes him bite back a groan as his cheeks bloom scarlet. Even thinking about it is humiliating.
She's still speaking.
"I thought about going back after."
What?
Hannu listens. Takes in her voice. It's the same as it was before. Mostly. There's something that wasn't there, an almost but not quite hesitation. Reluctance to admit it, maybe. Jonna shifts over his thighs, moves her hands down. Works to get him open, get the zipper down as if trying to distract herself this way. It's distracting him, at least, and it's all he can do to stop himself from bucking up against her hands. As he takes a shaky breath, she keeps going.
"It was hot." She laughs. "You were so pissed off. And you looked like you wanted to kill both of us. But it was hot. It was really, really hot."
A pause. Hannu tries to wait, tries to be patient, because from the way Jonna stopped, it feels like she means to keep talking. It isn't like he can do anything else but wait; can't even tell her to get on with it. That's annoying as hell. Next time, he thinks, no tape. When she suggested it, he didn't care, but this is enough to change his mind. If only he could tell her to stop fooling around. She'd probably laugh it off and make him wait. But maybe she wouldn't.
"I thought about trying to get away from Joona. Maybe I could sneak back to that shed before you got yourself loose. Do something to you there." She dips her head. Grazes a kiss over his cheek. Her breath ghosts his skin as she continues, voice low. "I don't think I would've... you know. Even if I could. But I thought about it." A pause. "I thought about it a lot."
Her voice has a hint to it, a note that he's heard before, and suddenly he knows she wasn't just "thinking" about it. He clamps his teeth down. A noise escapes him, anyway. It's only a whimper, but it's just as much a confession as what she just told him, and he hates himself for not being able to stay silent through this.
For a moment, she stops, as if trying to figure out what he meant by that. Hannu stills. Tries to keep his breath steady, tries to will away the flush on his cheeks. Even though it's pretty much the same as what Jonna just told him, he hopes she won't catch on. That she won't figure out that he's thought about that time in the shed, more than just once or twice. And other things. A lot. That he played those ideas over and over and over in his head, getting off for so many nights on the thought of her slamming him against that rough wooden floor and fucking him senseless.
If she knows, she doesn't say anything. Instead of asking, she slides off of him. Finally.
The mattress shifts. He listens. Hears a zipper. Fabric hastily pulled down and off. The springs creak, and then she's close to him again. Grips his waistband and pulls it down, trousers and underwear and all, as he lifts his hips to help her expose him. She doesn't even bother to take it off all the way.
Hannu groans under her as she straddles him. Grips him. As she guides him inside of her, hot and slick. As she rocks down to take him in deep. Jonna's hands find his shoulders and he can hear her breathing, quick and close and shuddering as she rides him. She's fast about it, and rough in a way that she usually isn't. Maybe she feels the same way that he does: fed up with screwing around. Maybe she's been aching for him ever since she tied him up and pinned him to this bed.
His head tilts. He wishes he could see her.
The tape muffles his gasps. His fingers curl, nails digging into his palms. The ache from before is gone, but there's another one now; he wants to touch her, grab her by the hips, pull her down onto him. Arch up to meet her mouth. Kiss her. For once, he wants that more than anything.
But this is what she wants. Hannu can't complain, and wouldn't even if he could. Not right now, anyway. Later, he thinks. He'll tell Jonna the tape was a stupid idea. That it pissed him off. No need to tell her why. She doesn't have to know.
Neither of them is going to last long, anyway. They're both so far gone, and it's a miracle he hasn't finished already, the way she was teasing him before. Her nails are sharp on his skin, her breath ragged as she uses him to get herself off.
Slow. Steady. Breathe.
He grounds himself in the sound of her moans as he rocks up into her and desperately tries to make himself last.
Maybe this is something she'll think about, too.
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Jonna/Hannu, established relationship
Rating: 18+ for sex (& bondage etc)
Length: 1.5k
Summary: She takes her time, laughs at his impatience, and makes him wait.
Other: Something quick, just for fun. Fills a square in the 100-prompt challenge table, #70: Bound and gagged.
*Martti drew some awesome fanart based on this fic, and you can view it over here! :D
Recurrence
The tape is new. The blindfold isn't.
Hannu breathes through his nose. Slow. Steady. This isn't the first time they've done this together. But it's different this time. A little.
Slow. Steady. Breathe.
He feels lightheaded. The tape isn't the reason for it. Not exactly. It's everything else, too. The cloth covering his eyes. The rope at his wrists.
Jonna's hands moving.
She touches his face, slides her fingertips along his cheeks. Pauses. Tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Then lets her hands drop, trailing along his shoulders, down, over the thin fabric of his shirt.
It's familiar, because it's not the first time, and he's become used to the way it feels to go along with her ideas. The warmth of her hands, the weight of her body as she straddles him. Hannu breathes shakily, tries not to think of other times, because thinking will just make it that much more difficult not to get more and more dazed and impatient with each second that passes.
It's hard. He's hard, and it's obvious, and that's the worst thing of all. Uncomfortable, and obvious, and he can't do anything about it. She hasn't touched him, but he knows that she's noticed. There's no way Jonna hasn't noticed. It's right there.
But she asked him to keep his clothes on – well. Told him to. So it must be part of her plan to make him as embarrassed as possible. And as uncomfortable as possible.
She sure as hell managed that.
Heat spreads over his cheeks as he tries not to think about how the fact that his discomfort was on purpose makes it hotter. Somehow. He doesn't want to think about how. Or why. He closes his eyes under the blindfold and tries to ignore it.
Lips at his neck. Hardly more than a brush, but it makes his breath quicken anyway. Hannu tries desperately to think of anything else. Jonna's taking her time, and it isn't doing him any good. Not that he's in any position to complain about it. The best he can do is fidget a little – and that just gets him pressed more firmly against the mattress, one hand going to his bound wrists to hold them pinned above his head.
Then her mouth is at his ear, grazing it, like she wants to say something. Her body is soft above him, her breasts flush against his chest, and he'd groan if it weren't for that fucking tape.
"Hey."
The voice by his ear is quiet. Not whispery. Not trying to be sexy. Jonna doesn't do sexy. But there's an edge to her voice, something that slips into his veins, slides its way down Hannu's spine. Her hair brushes his cheek. He swallows and waits.
"Do you remember that time we tied you up and left you out in the shed? A few years ago."
A noise slips out of him, somehow, even if the tape muffles it. Yeah, Hannu thinks, I remember. He remembers the two of them grabbing him, pulling him to the floor. Jonna's weight on him as her brother tied the knots firm enough that he wouldn't get out of them, not any time soon. Tape over his mouth. But his eyes weren't covered then, not like they are now, and he could see every smirk. Every grin. Her laughing eyes.
"I figured you wouldn't forget." A pause. She strokes his cheek. Brushes warm fingertips along his collarbone. "It turned you on. Didn't it."
How the hell do you expect me to answer that?! Hannu thinks. But the answer was obvious then, and it's obvious now, by the way he flushes under her touch, eyes fluttering beneath the blindfold. Shudders at the way her hands drift over his chest. He breathes. Tries to ground himself, put away the memory. Concentrates instead on the way it feels as her hands slide down, down, over fabric, reaching his waistband. Jonna's over him, straddling his thighs, but that isn't where he wants her to be.
It's probably better this way, Hannu thinks wearily.
With the way she's drawing it out, if she were over his hips, it'd be enough to make him come in his pants. The thought hisses at the back of his mind, makes him bite back a groan as his cheeks bloom scarlet. Even thinking about it is humiliating.
She's still speaking.
"I thought about going back after."
What?
Hannu listens. Takes in her voice. It's the same as it was before. Mostly. There's something that wasn't there, an almost but not quite hesitation. Reluctance to admit it, maybe. Jonna shifts over his thighs, moves her hands down. Works to get him open, get the zipper down as if trying to distract herself this way. It's distracting him, at least, and it's all he can do to stop himself from bucking up against her hands. As he takes a shaky breath, she keeps going.
"It was hot." She laughs. "You were so pissed off. And you looked like you wanted to kill both of us. But it was hot. It was really, really hot."
A pause. Hannu tries to wait, tries to be patient, because from the way Jonna stopped, it feels like she means to keep talking. It isn't like he can do anything else but wait; can't even tell her to get on with it. That's annoying as hell. Next time, he thinks, no tape. When she suggested it, he didn't care, but this is enough to change his mind. If only he could tell her to stop fooling around. She'd probably laugh it off and make him wait. But maybe she wouldn't.
"I thought about trying to get away from Joona. Maybe I could sneak back to that shed before you got yourself loose. Do something to you there." She dips her head. Grazes a kiss over his cheek. Her breath ghosts his skin as she continues, voice low. "I don't think I would've... you know. Even if I could. But I thought about it." A pause. "I thought about it a lot."
Her voice has a hint to it, a note that he's heard before, and suddenly he knows she wasn't just "thinking" about it. He clamps his teeth down. A noise escapes him, anyway. It's only a whimper, but it's just as much a confession as what she just told him, and he hates himself for not being able to stay silent through this.
For a moment, she stops, as if trying to figure out what he meant by that. Hannu stills. Tries to keep his breath steady, tries to will away the flush on his cheeks. Even though it's pretty much the same as what Jonna just told him, he hopes she won't catch on. That she won't figure out that he's thought about that time in the shed, more than just once or twice. And other things. A lot. That he played those ideas over and over and over in his head, getting off for so many nights on the thought of her slamming him against that rough wooden floor and fucking him senseless.
If she knows, she doesn't say anything. Instead of asking, she slides off of him. Finally.
The mattress shifts. He listens. Hears a zipper. Fabric hastily pulled down and off. The springs creak, and then she's close to him again. Grips his waistband and pulls it down, trousers and underwear and all, as he lifts his hips to help her expose him. She doesn't even bother to take it off all the way.
Hannu groans under her as she straddles him. Grips him. As she guides him inside of her, hot and slick. As she rocks down to take him in deep. Jonna's hands find his shoulders and he can hear her breathing, quick and close and shuddering as she rides him. She's fast about it, and rough in a way that she usually isn't. Maybe she feels the same way that he does: fed up with screwing around. Maybe she's been aching for him ever since she tied him up and pinned him to this bed.
His head tilts. He wishes he could see her.
The tape muffles his gasps. His fingers curl, nails digging into his palms. The ache from before is gone, but there's another one now; he wants to touch her, grab her by the hips, pull her down onto him. Arch up to meet her mouth. Kiss her. For once, he wants that more than anything.
But this is what she wants. Hannu can't complain, and wouldn't even if he could. Not right now, anyway. Later, he thinks. He'll tell Jonna the tape was a stupid idea. That it pissed him off. No need to tell her why. She doesn't have to know.
Neither of them is going to last long, anyway. They're both so far gone, and it's a miracle he hasn't finished already, the way she was teasing him before. Her nails are sharp on his skin, her breath ragged as she uses him to get herself off.
Slow. Steady. Breathe.
He grounds himself in the sound of her moans as he rocks up into her and desperately tries to make himself last.
Maybe this is something she'll think about, too.
