#prettypaperdoll

Even when he tries his best, Richard cannot say just how this happened, even though this, right now, at this moment in time, could mean a thousand different things – spending long evenings learning his lines together with Lee, the other’s arms around him and his chin propped up in Richard’s shoulder; Lee being the one person who makes him lose Thorin’s thoughts and mind and posture more easily than any of the other people around; or maybe the situation they are in now: Richard’s hands flat on the mattress next to his body, a blindfold over his eyes and Lee’s fingertips running along the underside of his cock, the touch just enough to make him shiver. He’s yearning to touch himself, his skin aching for it, but although there are no bounds to keep him from it, he doesn’t, because Lee did not tell him to.

And that’s it, that is why they are doing this (this particular thing, not what is between them; Richard could not even start to list the reasons for that), because sometimes, Richard has to give up control, when he is as tense, as high-strung as he has been for the last couple days, nerves so stretched, they are about to tear. Lee noticed, and Richard isn’t even surprised about it anymore, because although they haven’t known each other for longer than a few, short months, the other man can read him better than most by now.

He can read him now, too, because the light touches stop (and it is maddening, not being able to see what is happening, being forced to just wait), but before Richard can even think about whining, Lee speaks.  “C’mon Rich, just let go. Let me take care of you.” His voice is deeper than usual, a hint of arousal clinging to it, and Richard has to repress a shiver, his hands gripping the sheets tighter and tighter. He wants to, God, he wants to so much, to just forget his concerns and deep-seated self-consciousness, even if just for a few moments. But it’s still so hard, always is and is even harder today. Lee seems to notice it, because for a few moments, he just stays silent, stays put, as if deep in thought.

“I want you to touch yourself”, Lee finally says, reaches out to grasp one of Richard’s hands in his own, bringing it to his cock. The thought is as arousing as it is frightening – they have never done this before, and baring himself in front of someone else like that, even when it is someone Richard trusts completely, is still frightening. But Lee’s fingers are strong around his as they wrap his hand around his aching cock, strong and familiar, and Richard cannot say no. “I want you to touch yourself and only change the pace, or stop, when I tell you to.” While he speaks, Lee starts moving their hands – Richard’s hand – slowly down his cock, then up again, making him moan almost pathetically, because the sensation is one he has never known before, his own hand and yet not his movements.

One by one, Lee pries his fingers off Richard’s skin (it seems to be as hard for him to let go as for Richard to allow him to, Lee’s voice and touch the only thing which grounds him when his eyes can’t see), then the mattress shifts and Richard can only guess that the other has sat back on his knees, back straight and eyes hungry. He keeps the slow pace Lee has set, his cheeks burning because he knows that his lover is watching, tracking and memorising every of his movements. It makes every sensation so much more intense, the slide of his palm against the sensitive skin, the slightly increased pressure where his fingertips brush over thick veins, the jolt of pleasure when he presses one of them against that spot just below the head of his cock. It draws a breathy moan from his lips, one which Lee answers with one of his own.

“Faster”, the other orders, and his voice is soft and beautiful; Richard obeys without even thinking about it first, speeds up his movements and draws a hiss from his own lips. The mattress underneath him shifts, which means Lee must have moved, and Richard’s head turns, although he knows that the motion won’t help him see what his lover is doing. “Faster”, comes another order, and Richard strokes himself faster, adds a twist at the end of every upstroke, not enough to make him come, but enough to make him choke on his own breath, his hips bucking up, searching for more friction.

Precome slicks his hand, makes it easier and even more maddening to continue like this, stroking faster than before and yet not fast enough, Lee still rummaging through some drawer and not touching him like Richard needs him to. If he wanted to, he could just speed up his motions, because he is sure that right now Lee is not watching, but he doesn’t, and it’s good, it’s a step in the right direction.

And maybe Lee notices it too, since when the bed shifts again, Lee turns around, there is a hand on his cheek and Richard can’t help but lean into the touch. It’s loving, and just as addictive as a hand around his cock could be. “We never did this before, so… you know your safeword, right?” It’s not what Richard has expected Lee to say, but the words make his heart swell a little, beat a little quicker, because Lee cares, and that is more important than losing himself in this tonight. If he could, he would kiss Lee now, but like this, he can only nod (because of course, he knows it, has used it on one or two occasions before, and he knows that Lee would not ever push him further than he wants to go.) Lee - Richard knows it, because he knows the other as well as Lee knows him - is smiling; then there is a small clicking sound Richard cannot place, and a hand on his chest, just touching. “Okay, here it goes.”

Richard wants to ask what goes, what is going to happen, but before he can speak the words, there is something hot and liquid dripping down on his chest. It's a shock, makes Richard’s hand tighten almost painfully around his cock, his body arching off the mattress. “Fuck, that…” It must have been wax, hot wax, which he never thought about trying, although it is something so common; and it feels better than he would ever have thought. There is pain, just as much of it as he needs, a lingering warmth when the wax cools, the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he will be wearing Lee’s marks. “More.”

Although there are no words, not even sounds, touches, Richard knows that Lee is relieved, he can feel it in the air, because he can remember the last time he had to use his safe word (he had been tied down, a cockring keeping him from coming, and it hadn’t been bad, it just had been too much), the look in Lee’s eyes and the amount of kisses he had needed to make it vanish again.

Instead of an answer, there are a few drops landing on his chest again, and Richard can’t help but moan. “Come on, Richard. Don’t stop.” For a few moments, he does not know what Lee means, until he realises that his hand has stopped moving, still gripping his cock tightly. He does as he is told, starts stroking himself again just when Lee lets more wax drip down onto his skin, and the combination is mind-blowing. Something between a scream and a moan falls from his parted lips, and although Lee did not told him to go faster, he does, not able to stop himself; the other does not seem to mind, though, just answers with a groan of his own, another drop of wax. And it’s almost perfect, almost what he needs, because he feels his control slipping, feels his head emptying, but not quite, needs just something more. “Can you…can you please t-touch yourself?”

There is no answer and then there is a gasp, which sounds as if Lee had been holding it for a while, then a moan, which is one Richard knows so well by now, soft and breathless; it’s enough to make him moan as well. Another drop of wax, then another, making his skin feel as if he was on fire, liquid heat pooling in his stomach; every sensation multiplied tenfold by the fact that he can’t see, the he does not know what to expect. It takes more trust than he would have thought, and it’s even more addictive for it.

“Faster”, Lee forces out, getting out the words obviously a challenge, and Richard’s strokes grow quicker, more frantic; every drop of wax makes it harder not to just buck up into his fist and let go, take what he needs. “You look- Jesus, I wish you could see – Just, Richard…”

And finally, it’s too much, because Lee moans out the last words, breathlessly, lets wax pour down on his chest, and Richard feels his mind go blissfully empty. His body is moving on its own volition now, his hand speeding up its movements, his hips snapping up to meet it halfway; he’s moaning, but doesn’t know what sounds are falling from his lips, if it’s Lee’s name or a plea, a curse. Every of his strokes makes pleasure tingle down his spine, his skin feeling as if on fire, and this time, it is not the wax cooling on his chest that is responsible for it. Another three or four strokes, and Richard is coming, his back arching off the bed, and his hand moving furiously over his cock, somewhere in the back of his mind, he realises that Lee is moaning too, gasping, and it only spurs him on more.

When Richard finally comes back to his senses, his hand is slick with come, still lazily moving over his cock, his chest feeling hot and his breath still coming in pants and half moans, just so drowning out Lee’s.  A moment passes, then another, and then gentle hands undo his blindfold, their touch lingering a little longer than absolutely necessary. When Lee finally pulls the piece of fabric away, lets light flood Richard’s senses, it takes a moment until he can see; but when his eyes have finally gotten accustomed to being used again, Lee is the first thing he sees, and the sight almost takes his breath away.

Of course, he knew that Lee, too, would look spent and flushed and lovely, but this version of Lee, who is looking down at him and brushing soft fingertips over the side of his neck, is practically glowing, eyes shining with love and trust and a thousand other things. “Alright?”, Lee asks, because he always does, because he is too worried, always is, and Richard nods, smiles and watches the other smile back. “Better than that, actually”, he adds, more an afterthought than anything else, while Lee shifts until he can lie down; a moment passes, then he reaches out and cups Richard’s cheek with a large, warm palm. He doesn’t kiss him, just strokes his thumb over Richard’s skin and it’s more than enough.

“Thank you.” It’s most likely completely to say the words out loud, but Richard does so nonetheless, turns his head a little to press his lips against Lee’s palm. The small motion makes the other’s eyes  light up a little, his smile widening, and Richard’s lips respond on their own volition by curling up as well. “Not just for now, for… well. For everything.” It’s cheesy, it’s cliché, and it makes Richard want to hide his face in the pillows, but it’s true nonetheless; he’s thankful for this thing between them every day, and he hopes, thinks, believes, that Lee is, too.