#daisydevorak

It isn’t hir smallness that decided him on this, however. He isn’t really sure what it was - hir interest is aggressive, but hir manner is not. Maybe it was just hir openness… or the way s/he made it clear from the start that the choice is always his.

Bastien feels hir fingers brushing his hair back from his face, then trailing lightly down over his cheek, along his jawline, over his lips.

“Lovely,” s/he says, a smile in hir voice. The touch traces over his chin, and he tips his head back against the pillow, as if offering his throat to hir. He can hear hir moving, feels the soft brush of hir lips just over his adam’s apple, again at the hollow of his throat just above the collarbone. Another kiss is pressed to the side of his throat, just over the pulse - but this one is different, a drawing kiss, a bruising kiss, and he sucks in his breath.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” He feels hir fingertips travel over his chest, one following lightly over the lengthy scar that cuts across his skin, making goosebumps break out. A kiss is placed here, too, just where it runs the widest. Another touch of hir lips, where the skin is whole… and then a stinging little bite. S/he repeats this across his chest, and with the blindfold, he’s never quite sure what’s coming next - the caress, the kiss, the bite. All of them leave heat in their wake, and by the time hir warm fingers slip under the sides of his shirt, that heat is flooding into his groin, too, barely restrained by his pants.

“All of these clothes in the way… I have just the thing.” S/he gives a low chuckle, then he hears the snap of hir fingers. A wave of something goes over his body, and somehow, startlingly, all of his clothing has fallen off of him - including the wraps around his forearms, exposing the many scars that crisscross his flesh. In sudden searing mortification, Bastien tries to hide them... but there’s nothing left for him to hide them with.

“Bastien.” Jinana has noticed his distress, the tone of hir voice changed from a husky purr to something soft and soothing. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“They’re... ugly,” he says, rather helplessly, unable to express all the pain and guilt and shame that they represent.

“The scars? Oh, honey.” He feels hir small hands wrap around one of his own, bringing the forearm to rest against hir own chest, over hir clothing. “Scars are not ugly. No part of you is ugly. Scars just mean that you survived what hurt you.”

He wonders if s/he would feel the same if s/he knew just ugly he could become.

S/he presses a kiss to the backs of his fingers. “I’ll cover them for you again, if you want.” Where his forearm presses between hir breasts, he can feel hir heart beating, strong and steady, and hir voice when s/he speaks. “Or do you want to stop?”

“I…” For a moment, he does consider stopping. But something in him rebels against it - how long has he let his shame rule his life? “...no. Don’t stop,” he says, though he feels his face burning hot, and his chest too.

“If you’re sure.”

He nods, and Jinana gently lowers his arm to rest at his side. The rain of kisses and bites begins anew, along with the feeling of hir nails raking lightly over the skin of his chest and arms. He manages to hold himself still as hir hands run down over his forearms, his palms, and back up. He’s not used to having this area bare, much less touched, and it’s more sensitive than he would have thought.

A hint of warm breath on his skin is the only inkling he gets before a wet heat closes over one of his nipples, and he groans with the prolonged shock of pleasure as s/he draws on it with hir mouth. S/he gives a soft chuckle at his response, then visits the other nipple, teasing it with hir lips and tongue while hir fingertips come up to lightly pinch at the first one. He groans, his back arching with it, bearing hir weight up easily, and s/he gives a little laugh.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

He can barely get out his agreement as s/he gently rolls both nipples between hir fingers at once, making his belly tense up, making him so hard that it almost aches. “Hnnnnghhhh… uh-huh…”

“You might like this even more.” Bastien hears hir speak words of magic under hir breath, a little current of cool air coiling over his skin - and then two icy-cold fingertips are touched to his sensitized nipples, his body bucking under hir with the strong sensation, a choked sound forced from his throat.

When s/he takes hir touch away, he can only lie there for a moment, mildly dazed, his breathing harsh. He feels hir moving, getting up from hir place on top of him, settling at his side. Hir lips come over his with soft kisses, hir magically-chilled fingers tracing shivery little paths over his skin. They return to bring jolts of that shocking, icy pleasure to his nipples when he least expects them, and he can’t help but to wonder what that touch would feel like on his cock, cold to his heat.

Jinana sinks hir teeth into his lower lip - just enough to sting, for him to feel warmth rushing into the area when s/he pulls back. S/he begins a trail of those sharp kisses down his throat, his chest, his belly. Hir magically-chill touch traces over his waist, his hips, his upper thighs. His hips move all on their own, desperate to feel that touch where he wants it the most.

“You really are a big boy, aren’t you?” Hir voice is approving, and he feels himself blush furiously. The cool touch follows the scars that run over his left thigh, then comes back up, teasingly close to where his cock is leaking pre-come onto his hip.

“Please…” he whispers, then gasps as another little bite is visited to his other hip.

“Tell me what you want, Bastien,” s/he murmurs, and another violent blush scorches his face.

“...touch me,” he manages to say. “Please.”

S/he chuckles, and hir fingertips make their slow way back over his hips, moving in little circles, until he is quivering with anticipation. When the touch finally comes, Bastien’s whole body seems to tense with it, and he can’t help the sound that he makes, a kind of hoarse little shout, underscored by hir quiet laughter of enjoyment.

“C-can I - ohmygod - can I... see?” He can barely get the words out, his belly flinching from the magical cold of hir touch, his cock lifting from his belly to meet it.

“You may,” s/he answers, and he feels the blindfold loosed from him, leaving him blinking - but s/he is still sitting across his thighs, out of reach. It really is different with a magician…

Looking down at himself, he sees all the little bite-marks and hickeys decorating his skin now, the small pink marks from hir nails. His cock looks enormous in hir hands as s/he strokes him, then bows hir head over him to place a kiss on the very tip. Hir tongue comes out, running just under the head of him, and he could burst right then… but he manages to hold himself back, just enough, his hands gripping the quilt beneath him as s/he moves back from him.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” s/he says, smiling. “But you’ve been a good boy tonight. And I want to see you come all over yourself for me.” S/he begins stroking him again, placing kisses and caresses of hir tongue along the underside of him. His hips strain themselves up to hir, again and again - and then the feeling takes him, crashing over him in waves of drowning pleasure, sightless and witless until it finally lets him go.

He comes back from it to find himself lying loose-limbed on the bed and his clothing, as if stranded on a beach by a wave, his chest and belly spattered with his own come. Jinana is smiling at him from where s/he sits across his legs, running hir hands (warm again) soothingly over his thighs. S/he rises, once more fitting hirself along his side, gently turning his head so that s/he can kiss him once again, slow and lingering.