museyboxy | Thread continuations

The world has narrowed to Garrett's hand around his cock, the rigid, unbending rod inside of it, and Barry opens his mouth without thinking. To answer, to plead, to moan, he doesn't know, but of course no sound comes. Instead he turns his head to stare at Garrett, his eyes crinkling with the agony of not being able to answer. Even if he could speak, Barry doesn't know what he would say. He feels good, he feels unmoored, right on the cusp of a precipice he's not sure he wants to fall from, but Garrett keeps dragging him closer.

Eyes closing again, Barry shakes his head even as his cock swells in Garrett's grip.

Garrett frowns at that answer and leans in, his grip on Barry's cock going slack except to brace it up safely. With the other he takes Barry's chin and urges his lover to look at him.

"Barry, sweetheart," he asks urgently. "Does it feel good?"

As far as he can tell, Barry shook his head no to both questions. He needs to be sure.

Even without the grip on his chin, Barry would respond to the thread of unease in Garrett's voice. He nods at him, his eyes wide, then nods even harder. It's so good that he fears what will happen if the feeling increases. How will he come with a rod in his shaft? Can he? Will it hurt?

Breaths coming fast in his chest, Barry strains towards Garrett, needing another touch, the weight of his body, anything to keep him from flying away.

Far beyond merely reassuring him, that response heats his blood all over again, unfurling a hungry smile over his face that compels him to capture Barry's mouth in a hard kiss. Maker, he's so beautiful like this, so soft and wanting and desperate, trembling and flushed and overwhelmed. Garrett wants to see him come undone- from this, from being fucked in a way that nobody ever has.

"Oh, I love this," he confesses, breathless against Barry's lips. His hand wraps around Barry's cock again, this time at the head- softly rubbing the head where it's straining around the rod, and rubbing his thumb along the underside, where he can feel (and even see) the rod in Barry's cock. He wants to make Barry feel it- wants- he wants to hook his thumb in the ring at the end and stroke up and down, fucking the sound into Barry's cock, stroking him at the same time. The sound isn't quite thick enough to entirely block come, though Barry will be tender and sensitive after- which just means Garrett will have to make him come again. As he watches Barry's face intently, he can hardly wait. "You're so fucking pretty. You had no idea it could feel like this, did you? I wanna make you come by fucking your cock, Barry- you can do it, it's alright, you can come."

Barry manages another tiny, desperate sound, confused by the amplified sensation in his cock. He looks down and sees Garrett fucking his poor confused, delighted dick with the rod, gaping at it before dizzily closing his eyes again. It's so much, like the first time anyone found his prostate, pulling sparks of pleasure from him he'd never known possible, being touched so intimately deep inside. The metal of the rod could have made it clinical, but Garrett's calloused fingertips stroke the head of his cock, keeping it intensely personal.

Garrett, Barry mouths. His balls are drawing tight, and his heart is racing like it wants to reach the speed force. Half panicked with the pleasure that's spiraling higher, higher, too high, Barry throws his head back with a ragged, choked off scream and spills hot around the rod, coming so hard not even Silence can fully quiet the sobs of pleasure that rack him.

Sweet fucking Maker.

The way Barry pants, strains against his bonds, clearly wanting to writhe but afraid or unable to, the way he sounds - tiny sounds that barely eke from his throat, every noise or moan turned all the way down, reduced to nothing but sighs and gasping, the way he shakes and throws his head back and sweats and flushes dark- it's so searingly hot that Garrett's mouth goes completely dry, cock throbbing, cheeks flushed and warm just from the sight of it. As Barry comes Garrett pulls the sound up, knowing that removing it during orgasm can feel so good, but there's little need- the force of Barry's climax actually helps push the sound out, making it so easy for Garrett to remove the rod so Barry's spend can pulse out. He isn't sure it all got out- some of it probably backed up inside him, and it's not dangerous but it will make Barry's balls tender and sore and aching if it happened. He can't be sure, so he massages the base of Barry's cock (where he had a grip on it before, to steady it) to work him through the last pulses of climax.

"Maker's breath, that was gorgeous," he says huskily. "The Silence should be wearing off soon, love. Just breathe now."

Garrett tells him to breathe as if it's something simple, as if Barry isn't lying here in pieces, his lungs on fire with stolen screams and far too little oxygen. He gulps at the air, turning to stare at Garrett with wet, wide eyes, but they're not ready to focus yet.

Closing them, Barry returns to panting, finding a little bit more sound in each exhalation. His body is lightening, reconnecting to the speed force and rebuilding his wings, and even so he throbs in Garrett's enormous hand. "Aches," Barry breathes, the pain both an echo of too much pleasure and discomfort low in his balls, one the speed force hasn't seemed to touch, yet.

"Jesus Christ, Garrett."

Edited 2019-11-03 04:33 (UTC)

"I know," he breathes, leaning down to kiss Barry hungrily. His own cock is rock hard, mouth dry, body singing with the need to take him, to touch, to do ANYTHING to this gorgeous man who is so fucking sexy when he's falling apart.

And meanwhile, Garrett's hand moves down to his sack, to squeeze and massage and knead at them, full and swollen and tender, knowing he must be sensitive and aching.

For the barest instant, Barry thinks he'll be given a reprieve. He's just come so hard it shot the metal rod right out of his cock, but Garrett's relentless touch sinks lower, rolling his still tight sac in his fingers.

"Garrett," Barry protests, jerking against his bonds. The sensation is neither pleasure nor pain but a confusing cacophony of both, his nerves firing until he thinks he might go mad with it. "So much, please, I need - "

But Barry doesn't know what he needs. A respite from the ache. An end to the maddening anticipation still singing through his groin, demanding satisfaction. Anything to make the sensation of too much and not enough leave him in peace to catch his breath.

"What, love?" he asks against Barry's lips. "What do you need?"

Garrett squeezes a little harder, tormenting Barry another moment before moving his hand up to the man's now-soft cock.

"Do you want me to touch you, or would you rather suck my cock?"

It's not a real question. Or at least, Garrett knows it will be almost comically easy for Barry to answer.

"Your cock," Barry gasps at once, eager for a respite from the fondling of his far too tender sac, especially one as pleasurable as the slide of Garrett's enormous cock along his tongue. He licks his lips, straining forward against his bonds, but he can't go far, a fact that makes him whine despite knowing he wouldn't get anywhere.

"Please, Garrett," he says, looking up at him with wide, anxious eyes. "Please give it to me."

His own cock throbs between his legs at the look on Barry's face, and he growls a little as he looms in close.

"Well, when you ask that sweetly, how can I say no?"

He takes Barry's mouth in a sharp, biting kiss, hard and hungry while his hand fiddles with the ropes tying Barry to the headboard. It takes longer than usual given his distraction, but he manages to free his boyfriend right around the time he's sucking on Barry's bottom lip.

Barry's too lost to the surge of Garrett's mouth against his own to feel the ache of stretched and straining muscles as his arms are freed, winding them around Garrett's neck at once. It's only when he feels the heat of warm skin against his palms that he realizes, and Barry quickly tries squirming free. Few things could tempt him from the heat of Garrett's mouth, but Garrett's cock tops the list.

"How do you want me?" he ask, tugging at Garrett as if he has the strength to arrange him himself. "God, hurry, please."

Garrett takes a fist of Barry's hair and sits up, bringing Barry with him.

"On your knees," he hisses, dragging Barry off the bed and forcing him down. "I wanna fuck that pretty mouth, try to make you come like I did in Zhautas, remember?"

He strokes Barry's hair back from his sweat-damp forehead, looks at those cheeks still pink from afterglow, and needs suddenly to be inside him. To feel that soft, wet warmth around him and hear those sweet little moans Barry always makes when there's a cock in his mouth.

"Thank you," Barry can't seem to stop panting as Garrett drags and rearranged him, "Thank you." For letting him, for having a cock so gorgeous, for not making him wait. He settles his hands on Garrett's enormous thighs and leans in, immediately drawing the head of Garrett's cock between his lips to suck.

He tastes good, and eager as he is, Barry always takes time to enjoy this moment. The taste of Garrett, the weight of him, the fullness that stretches his lips already and he's not yet sunken down. But the need to fill his mouth and throat with Garrett's cock is too great to deny for long, and Barry's eyes flutter closed as he sinks forward, taking Garrett deep, throat fluttering around him as he slides deeper still.

Garrett enjoys the moment too, these familiar beats- Barry's hands on his thighs, the way he leans in like he's starving, the moment those lips wrap around the achingly sensitive head. The first brush of tongue (and how nobody can ever seem to resist tonguing the piercing). The thing Garrett always loves about this the most, though, is how eager Barry always seems to take him in. There's no hesitation at all before Barry starts to move farther down on his cock, eyes closing in what looks like satisfaction or relief (and until the day he dies he will never stop marveling at his luck, to have a man who seems relieved to get a cock in his mouth).

A low sigh escapes him; soon he's in deep and Garrett can feel his lover's throat tightening as he chokes softly, little flutters that they both know he'll power through. Garrett strokes his hair and cheek lovingly, looking down at Barry with lidded eyes.

"That's it, sweetheart, you've got it," he murmurs. "Feels good, doesn't it? Being where you belong?"

Barry moans his agreement, stuffed too full to twist his hair against those gentle strokes the way he wants to. But Garrett's praise rains down, his eyes relaxed with the promise of pleasure, and Barry shifts even closer on his knees, beginning to bob his head slowly. He loves this cock in his ass, but there's something special about holding it in his mouth, his throat. It's intimate, inescapably personal, owning.

Garrett is right - it feels fantastic to be where he belongs.

Garrett’s head falls forward with a deep, rattling breath as Barry starts to fuck himself onto Garrett’s cock. It’s so hot, so tight, so warm and wet and soft that he gasps, already aching with the sweet perfection of it. He has to force his eyes to open- but it’s worth the effort, to see Barry’s lips stretched around him, to see his own cock disappearing into Barry’s mouth over and over. There’s something truly special about the way Barry becomes almost entranced by this, seemingly lulled into a warm, happy, sedated place from the sheer pleasure of a dick in his mouth.

Maker, it’s indescribable. Until the day he dies, Garrett will never get tired of it. It will never stop being a marvel. His hands stroke through that pretty brown hair and he realizes that he’s been talking for a while, murmuring ardent nonsense about how pretty Barry is, and how good he looks like this, and yes, he loves it, doesn’t he.

“You give the best blowjobs in the multiverse, did you know that?” He asks, pushing Barry’s hair from his eyes so Garrett can see the flush in his cheeks. “Nobody else craves it the way you do. It’s like you aren’t complete without a cock inside you.”

Barry's eyes flick up, blown black and unfocused, but they find Garrett's face and sharpen. As unbidden as the praise flowing from Garrett's mouth, an answering hum flows from Barry's throat, a low and constant thrum of pleasure that starts in his chest and vibrates subtly around Garrett's cock. He shifts closer, bony knees aching on the ground but Barry is long past registering discomfort, held in a safe and steady place as long as he has Garrett's cock where he needs it. He moves a little faster, still slow, still dreamy and indulgent, working Garrett's cock in deep until it finds the back of his throat, and Barry groans.

Another deep, gratified moan rises up at the subtle vibrations around his cock- not even a meta human kind, but simply the soft vibrations from that hum. Garrett strokes Barry’s hair and cheeks, starting to rock his hips slowly with the pace of Barry’s motions, wanting to see himself in deeper in that gorgeous mouth.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, holding Barry steady in his strong hands. “Are you starting to get hard again? Or are you still aching from before?” His grip on Barry’s hair starts to firm up, fingers twisting in dark strands, holding Barry just a little more still. Shifting the balance a little more his way, so he’s rocking his hips a little more than Barry is moving. Fucking his mouth slowly, gently, still allowing Barry some motion and agency. “I’m working on my next reward from the fae, you know. An enchantment that will let you deep throat without needing to breathe. Would you like that? Do you wish you could have my cock down your throat and never, ever need to stop?”

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