Leather Pants

 

Author:  Kevswitchau

Pairing:  EW and whoever  you want it to be…

Genre:  RPS, PWP

Rating:  NC-17

Warnings:  Sex…what else? 

Disclaimer:  This is purely a piece of fiction. Thank you to Kinky Hobbit for a great plot bunny – hope I’ve done it justice.  Unfortunately I don’t own rights to either of these lush young men...a girl can dream, can’t she?
Note: This one’s for Kinky Hobbit. I know some people don’t like second person fic, but that’s just how this one came out.

They’re new.

And black.

And skin tight.

They stretch like a second skin, soft and smooth across his butt, cinching in at the waist, making him look tiny, making him look innocent. Making him look edible.

You lick your lips at the thought.

And he knows, damn him to hell.

He knows what he’s doing to you, because he strolls over to you and asks if you like.

That’s all he says.

“You like?”

Your mouth is so dry that you cannot speak, so you lick your lips again and nod...you nod wordlessly...you nod breathlessly, because he’s just standing there in front of you, his boyish chest bare, his arms folded, his hips thrust forward.

And you marvel silently at how he squeezed himself into them because the bulge at his crotch is far bigger than it should be for a guy his size. The wrinkles across his upper thighs show how the fabric is stretched where it really shouldn’t be.

All you can think about is how you want to taste him. How you want to trail your tongue over the smoothness of him.

He steps closer and you can smell the new car fragrance wafting off the pants as he heats up.

“Show me” he whispers.

For a moment, you’re not sure if you heard him. You think that perhaps it was your mind, perhaps it was wishful thinking. But he says it again, low and sensual, like treacle dripping from his tongue.

“Show me.”

And suddenly you’re on your knees in front of him, looking up his body. His lashes are lowered around sapphire eyes, and his mouth is slightly opened. He is breathing deeply, and you can see the slow rise and fall of his chest.

You reach your hands out and run them up his legs, the new leather is warm to the touch, almost living. His thighs are hard underneath the soft coating.

You lean in and rub your cheek over the material, smelling and feeling, the pants are pliant, and you wonder briefly how it must
feel to be stretched across his body, moulded to every graceful curve and hollow.

You rise up onto your knees and flick your tongue over his belly, the soft, downy skin underneath his navel. You hear him gasp at the unexpected feeling of your mouth, and the tiny sound sends waves through you, right down to your groin.

The pants are slung low, and you can see the exposed flesh of his hip, and the tiny black mark which indicates the tip of his tattoo.
You tug urgently at the waistband until you can see the whole thing, black against his whiteness. You flick your tongue over it and then close your lips over it and suck hard, making him groan and bringing a blush of blood to the surface. Black and red. You
smile up at him and lick it again. It’s so fucking sexy. Black brand on white skin...the thought of his eyes glazing over with pain
as the needles marked him forever...

You run your hands around to the back of his legs, and then upwards to his ass, round and tight, as you clench your hands around flesh, pulling him forward. He complies, pressing himself against you, your tongue still exploring the creamy skin above the waistband of his trousers, his crotch pressed against your chest. You can feel the heat rising as he hardens against your skin.

You feel his hands in your hair, and hear tiny whimpers carried on his breath as you nibble and taste his exposed skin. But the sensation from below is too much for you to ignore, and so you begin to descend, until you reach the source, and you nuzzle into the leather, the musky smell of his arousal and the hot material mingling in your nose, as you bury your face deeper, your teeth scraping the firming bulge, drawing a gasp from him, forcing him to tighten his fingers in your hair.

You can feel his pulse against your tongue as the blood pounds through the flesh beneath the leather, bringing heat and
hardness. You lick him through the pants, nipping and sucking as you feel him stiffen beneath your lips, hear him moaning low through clenched teeth.

You tighten your grasp on his ass and hold him tight against you, your face buried in his crotch, digging your nails into his flesh as
you suck his cock through the leather, the material forming a barrier so that your scraping teeth don’t draw blood.

He begins to thrust himself against you, his eyes closed, breath ragged through his open mouth, his fringe tumbling into his face,
you reach down and caress his balls through the moist fabric, scraping your nails over his sensitive flesh, pressing gently, coaxing him to the brink.

You feel him twitch beneath your lips, confined by the leather and your probing tongue, and you realise that he’s about to teeter over the edge, you suck harder, your teeth and tongue working through the damp material, your mouth sliding over the rock hard bulge of his cock, forcing guttural, almost animalistic sounds from deep inside him.

You feel him cum through the leather as he cries out, the hot spurt of liquid wet against your tongue. His legs buckle and he topples against you, landing on his knees with his head bowed down, and pressed against your chest. His whole body shudders as he pushes himself against you, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him to you. Not wanting to let go.

After a few minutes, he raises his head, and pins you with his eyes...indescribably blue and hazed with sex. He smiles and leans
forward, kissing you gently, his tongue lightly flicking against yours. He whispers something in your ear. Again, you’re not sure if
you heard properly, but as he moves his mouth gently over your skin, trailing his tongue wetly over your collar bone, you realise that you did hear right, as he pushes you backwards and straddles your hips, he whispers it again, just so that you are left with absolutely no doubt.

“Your turn.”

Kevswitchau  2002

 

 

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