me: I'm kinky af.
also me: Tf is 'forniphilia'?
Cross-posted from AO3 same-day.
Day 02: Dirty talk | Watersports | Forniphilia (Human Furniture)
Eggsy was shaking like crazy. He couldn't seem to stop. Though that probably had a lot to do with the vibrating plug up his arse, and the vibrating cock ring wrapped around not just his cock, but his bollocks too. He couldn't remember how long he'd been there, posed to Harry's satisfaction, posture painstakingly perfect, but the vibrations had been running through him the entire time, had kept him trembling since at least a few minutes in, and had created a fine sheen of sweat across his skin. Which only made his situation more precarious.
Harry was sitting on the couch perpendicular to where Eggsy was on his hands and knees, a piece of glass laid lengthwise along his back: a table for Harry's dinner. The glass was balanced on his shoulders and his arse, and every shiver through his body threatened to disrupt the food, wine, and candle set on its surface. Eggsy had no idea how far along Harry was into his dinner, had no idea how long he'd been kneeling here, waiting for Harry to declare him done, had no idea if Harry was going to declare him done. He hoped the answer to all of those was soon, because even with the cockring, he'd felt on the edge of coming for so long, the vibrating dildo pulsing against his prostate, that he honestly didn't know how an orgasm hadn't been milked out of him already. Don't get him wrong, he loved nothing more than Harry using him as Harry saw fit, but sometimes… 'difficult' didn't begin to cut it.
A whimper slipped out his throat before he could think about it, made his lips tremble and drew attention to the wetness on his face. It wasn't the first time he'd cried while playing with Harry, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
"Furniture can't speak," Harry said to his side, voice mild like he was just making a blasé comment aloud to himself. It even sounded like his voice was facing downwards towards his lap, and it made Eggsy want to turn his head to look, but furniture couldn't move either. He resisted the urge to apologize and forced his joints to lockdown, forced his breathing to even out as much as his body was capable of.
There was a hum of apathetic approval, and Eggsy cock pulsed with his heart beat. He tried to focus on literally anything else: his breathing, the feel of his sweat slowly slickening the glass on his bare skin, the fibers of the rug under his flat palms and sore knees, the sound of Harry continuing his meal, not that there were any - when they did this, Harry never made a sound so that Eggsy couldn't know how much longer there was left in their scene. But no matter what he did, Eggsy couldn't stop himself from noticing his pulse in his erection. He always told himself that, if he could handle being tortured, and he could (had), then he could handle excessive stimulation and orgasm delay. It never actually worked.
He went tense when the glass moved, and it took a moment for him to realize that the glass wasn't falling away, it was being lifted up. As much as he wanted to let himself relax, now that there wasn't a fragile burden relying on his posture, he knew that that did not count as the release word. Neither did the hand trailing down his spine or the fingers tugging at his plug, pulling it from his body.
It took extra effort not to react to Harry pushing his thick cock into him, not to wince or bow his head or dip his spine or curl his fingers. It took just as much effort not to let the sensation of an orgasm wash over him, not when it wouldn't mean anything to him except trouble. Harry didn't exactly take it easy on him either, setting a firm, steady pace that narrowed Eggsy's world down to Harry moving inside of him as he fought to breathe in time with Harry's thrusts. He wasn't even graced with the grounding sensation of Harry's hands at his waist - their only point of contact was where Harry was pushing into him, and Eggsy lost himself in the rhythm.
"Good boy, Eggsy," Harry said suddenly, unsnapping the cockring without any warning.
The familiar phrase, indicating both an end to the scene and permission to come, caught Eggsy by complete surprise, and he cried out as he came, elbows buckling and sending his upper half crumbling to the floor. He barely noticed the dull pain of his forehead landing on the carpeted wood in favour of the pleasure sweeping through him, spurred on by Harry's unyielding thrusts and his hands finally (finally) grabbing hold of Eggsy's waist in their unbreakable grip to keep him from falling away from Harry.
Harry continued to use him as Eggsy's chest melted into the floor, sending his spine into an unnatural curve that would have been near-painful any other time. The change in angle made Harry inhale and Eggsy smiled dopily into the carpet as Harry's pace stuttered and then stilled. And then Harry was pulling out, and those strong hands gently lowered Eggsy's hips to the ground. Once they fell away, Eggsy twisted on his spine to look up at his boyfriend who, no surprise, was still fully dressed in his Kingsman suit, cock hanging out and eyeglasses in place. Not a hair was out of line. It was filthy.
"Yer a savage, 'arry," Eggsy rasped, accent and voice roughened by an untold length of dry mouth.
"Thank you, Eggsy," Harry replied with a small smile, leaning forward to gift Eggsy with a soft kiss. "Let's get you to bed."
"Actually in bed, not into a bed, yeah?" Eggsy clarified, wincing as Harry helped him to his feet, chuckling at Eggsy's question. "I'm not sure I could handle you laying full on me right now."
"The only further thing I may repurpose you for this evening is a pillow, my dear," Harry declared lightly, making Eggsy smile in turn.
"Sounds good to me."
FIN
Eh, can't say it's my thing but I can see some appeal. Also this is kinda terrible too sorry. orz
Reblog the a thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, tagged/Stay-Just-Like-That).
