For the life of me I can't grasp how it is that you can sneer down at me so hatefully, and yet make me feel so loved. Your slender index fingers slip through my belt loops and gruffly yank me forward until my hipbones grind against yours. There's no time for me to react; I'm swiftly pulled flush against you and your sweet, venomous lips expertly plunge into mine. My eyes clench shut as my lips and tongue desperately attempt to match your every probe, flick, and nip. It's rather one sided, and I, as a novice in comparison, can't seem to keep my head straight. My thoughts flit between current activities and noting to invest in chap stick. Your hand on my lower back is becoming distracting, as it grips and fondles the hem of my loose t-shirt. I'm vaguely aware that you are taking baby steps forward, pushing me back. My mind is far more engrossed in the dance transpiring in our mouths than the one with our feet.

We come to a halt when my knees buck and my calves hit the side of your crisp, white mattress. Our fervent kiss breaks and you tug more aggressively at the blue fabric loosely clinging to my torso. Before my heavy eyelids can open to meet with yours, you have already dipped your head to hang just above my shoulder. A tingle creeps up my spine at the hot breath escaping your lips and tickling my ear. Instinctively, I attempt to wrap my arms around your frail middle to embrace you, however I find myself being batted away and my shirt being swiftly lifted over my head. With the smallest flick of your wrist, the familiar blue shirt now lays in a crumpled, discarded heap. Not until now did I realize the warmth that one simple article kept in. My skin crawls, resulting in pert nipples.

There's that look again. The one which elicits the most bizarre feelings in the pit of my stomach. Your full, pouting lips and flared nostrils belie the glint of adoration that perhaps only I can see in your azure eyes. You exhale haughtily and promptly rip your shirt over your head. It flutters to the ground to meet the equally abandoned blue article. Impressively soft hands grace the worn skin on my shoulders and press me into the bed. This time, I make a note to invest in hand lotion. I sit stupidly on the edge of the bed, gawking at your topless form, hip popped to the side, both hands propped on your narrow waist. That familiar sneer deepens, creasing your face harshly. A wave of fear hits me and I gasp timidly. Have I done something wrong? I search your face, trying to remain as casual as possible. An impatient eye roll gazing down your midsection tells me more than words can. A furious blush paints its crimson tone on my cheeks and I lean forward to fumble clumsily over the clasp behind your favorite belt buckle. Boots tap impatiently against the stone floor, and my scarlet complexion branches out to the tips of my ears. My hands are brushed away and you grab the end of your studded belt, extracting it with enough speed and force to create a crisp crack. If I didn't know you any better, I would have been surprised when your gray jeans slipped to your booted knees, revealing the lack of any undergarments and an already throbbing cock. Two small steps forward inform me of your request. I firmly grasp your soft skin in my hand and run the calloused tip of my thumb down the underside. Those amazingly smooth fingers grace down my jawline and stop at my facial hair to mimic the motion I just made on you. I can feel the familiar stirring sensation burning warm in my lower belly. My head is gently tipped back so you can smirk down at me, reveling in my flushed cheeks. An available hand finds its way to my hand on your member. You take me and guide me across yourself, demonstrating the movements and nuances to your preference, yielding the tiniest of moans all the while. Once you feel I am competent in my action, you release me and rest your hands in my hair. I resist momentarily, but this is only met with long fingers intertwined in my locks, pulling and twisting harshly until the shock and pain forces me into submission. My lips part and ghost against the head of your pulsing cock. The smooth, salty flavor of pre-cum assaults my lips and leaves a sticky trail connecting the short gap between mouth and slit. I inhale through my nose and plunge down onto you. You swell on my tongue, your hips and knees buck as your head flings back, your grip in my hair intensifies, and your breath audibly hitches in the back of your throat. Strange, the way I can have this affect on you, the icy, unyielding god of metal. I grip your base and swirl my tongue thoughtfully. Every subtle gesture is met with a subtle groan, every exaggerated stroke is met with an exaggerated sigh. You're completely consumed in me and I am thoroughly intimidated.

Erratic, almost plucking motions of your fingers in my hair and steady, even thrusting tell me that you are at the very least enjoying me. My head seems to have been bobbing for ages, my mouth is growing sore, my jaw is tired. I would never dare stop until given permission however. It makes you mad when I don't do what you want. By some fortunate chance, you grab a handful of my mussed hair and tug, forcibly releasing me from my duty. A moist trail of lingering saliva drips down my chin. There's no longer any need for jeans, so you discard them into the every growing pile of clothes on the floor. Dragging in ragged breaths of air, you lower your knees to rest on the bed, straddling my legs. You push me again and I flop onto my back. In one swift motion, you tug my pants and boxers to my ankles. I'm starting to feel blood pumping, and I'm beginning to twitch to life. Flustered, I kick my pants off my ankles and nudge them off the foot of the bed.

Nervous energy pulses through me. I'm vaguely aware that I am fidgeting awkwardly, unsure of what to do with my arms. You begin crawling towards me. My heart is racing as the tips of your flaxen tresses flutter and tickle against my skin. I tap my fingers against the white fur, anxiously awaiting you to approach. With a cluck of your tongue, you slow to a halt and watch me squirm. I know you're absolutely basking in my desperation. At this point, it absolutely doesn't bother me. My teeth clamp down on my lower lip and my idle hands find their way to my quivering appendage. An unamused frown taints your otherwise exquisite features. I find your hand resting atop mine and you pull it away from my neglected cock. Ever the tease, you linger for a moment and make sure that upon release your fingers trail gently across my girth. I can't think straight. I must have made some noise because you have that smug, self righteous gleam twinkling in your eyes. Next thing I know, your shoulders are turned and you are leaning over the side of the bed, giving me an incredible view of your small, tight ass. While you're clearly rummaging for something, I am certainly not missing this opportunity to stroke myself and coo.

A moment passes before your thin form sits upright on the bed again. My eye catches the refractive light from the metal cuffs in your clutches. My eyes widen when your free hand firmly grips my jerking wrist and pulls it vigorously above my head. My spine stiffens and my already palpitating heart manages to somehow increase further in speed. You straddle me again. I'm overwhelmed. My free arm reaches over my head to meet my cuffed wrist, unsure of whether or not the handcuffs were something my notoriously overactive imagination dreamed up. I grace my fingertips along the cool metal hinges. You lean down until I can feel the weight of your torso against mine and the silken curtains of your hair draping across my shoulders.

"Mmm, ja... jag gillar det också ," your warm breath accosts the flesh on my neck and ear as you gruffly whisper those words in my ear.

Clearly you have misunderstood my action as I am now in the compromising position of both my hands cuffed tightly above my head, unable to wriggle free. Defenseless against your advances now, I can merely observe as you trail your hand down my jawline to my chest. My breath hitches. Funny the way I itch now that I am confined, even though I know I would not be subjected to this crawling sensation were I freed. I wish you didn't look so smug. I wish I didn't love how smug you look.

Soft lips find their way to my chest and so very slowly plant wet, deliberate kisses ever moving downward. Satin blond locks trail across my sides, tickling my skin. I'm audibly panting, absolutely desperate to reach down and lose my hands in those locks. It's all I can do to arch my back into you and buck. Confinement is horrible, and I miss using my hands terribly. Of course you would love me this way. I writhe around uncomfortably and wrench my neck to better watch you, then suddenly I taste blood. Have I been biting my lip that hard? I look down to you again and your deep blue eyes narrow and fixate on me. You look positively unimpressed with me, lolling my head around, a small trickle of blood dripping from my lip to my chin. Lips pursed, you lean over the side of the bed once more and again rummage around. This time I am relieved that you have not retrieved something metal, but rather something cloth. A crisp, white length of silk is balled up in your hand when you come crawling slowly back towards me. My chained wrists are beginning to hurt and I hope against hope that if I must be bound, that you will replace these cuffs with that silk. I wriggle and lick my bleeding, puffy lips as I anxiously watch you drag out your motions towards me. Eventually, though, the soft, cool fabric brushes gently against my side sending goosebumps popping and prickling over my skin. The look across those pronounced Swedish features is horrifically disconcerting. I wonder what is going on in your head, but that look tells me I will know all too well, and all too soon. You lean closer; I can smell you. It's a unique scent of metallic sweat coupled with the stale musk of tobacco, and a light undertone of after shave. My breathing is irregular. Each breath in is Skwisgaar and I involuntarily whine on each exhale. I can imagine that when you spontaneously delved upon my mouth the underlying cause was to shut me up. I don't care. The sweetness of your juicy lips and velvet tongue is like a drug to take my mind off the throbbing in my self induced injury, as well as the throbbing in lower regions of my body. My mouth opens hungrily to accept your probing tongue and my eyes flutter shut. I wriggle, aching to stroke your flesh. Upon attempting to bat my eyelashes open once more, I am shocked to find that silk fabric has found its way around my head, blindfolding me. A small noise escapes my lips. Skwisgaar... you sneaky bastard.

I feel you smooth my hair and then run a finger across my lips, making a shushing sound. Obedience to your every whim comes as second nature to me. For several moments, I remain as silent as remotely possible but the incessant licking and pulling and biting on my flesh elicits an array of coos, groans and whines that I simply cannot hold back. I hate this cruel game of sensory deprivation, but I love the way you make my skin crawl and my stomach tie itself in tight knots. It feels like an accident, but nonetheless your arm bumped up against my engorged cock and I hiss and grunt shamelessly. A moment passes and your slender fingers are once more ghosting across my cheeks. They curl around the white fabric and haphazardly tug until my eyes are exposed to the bright lights once more. I blink to adjust and then notice you glowering. I splutter, and the already sharpened features contort further. I open my mouth to defend myself, and the white silk is crammed into my gaping mouth. Cries of objection do in fact growl from my throat, but this damned swatch of cloth muffles them quite proficiently. This seems to satisfy you as far as I can tell as your features soften significantly.

I'm breathing steadily and heavily, feeling this cloth grow moist with the saliva I am unable to swallow when you turn to the side of the bed for the third time now. With good cause, my heart races with worry wondering what you could possibly be retrieving. You emerge with your head bowed, blond hair obscuring my vision of your occupied hands. Then you look up at me and make an amused noise to yourself before casually flicking the small bottle of lubricant back on to the floor. Slicked fingers wrap around your cock and you stroke slowly, thoroughly coating yourself from base to tip. I hate you for being such an unbelievable tease moaning to yourself, touching yourself, making it impossible for me to tell if you are putting on a show for me or just truly love your own touch.

It would be preferable if you were to ask if I am ready. I know you won't. That much is obvious. It's less that you are selfish, and more that my pleading eyes and throbbing cock can more than speak for themselves. My chest rises and falls, every muscle in my upper body frantically twitching, wanting and needing you to hurry yourself and take me. That smug look informs me you know I would have no reservation in pouncing on you at this point were I not bound. That would be the precise reason you're being so cruelly deliberate and slow. Soon, I'll just have to keep reminding myself the relief will come soon.

You grasp me firmly by the thighs and yank me downward until my constraints pull my arms taut and I can move no lower. I hiss and choke on the wadded up silk as the metal digs into my wrists. Unconcerned with my plight, you continue preparing yourself for me by lifting my legs higher and I feel you press your head against my entrance. Suddenly, you plunge your full length into me with no preparation or warning. My eyes tear up and I buck wildly, howling in shock. Your legs are quaking and your eyes are squeezed firmly shut. That familiar, thick cock is throbbing inside me and I throw my head back, biting down on the fabric in my mouth. Beads of sweat are already starting to form on my forehead. The pain is beginning to dwindle and fade into a pleasurable numbness. A jagged sigh passes your full lips and you extract yourself slightly, then push back in. The beginning seems to be more slow going than you had originally intended. I don't mind.

Soon enough, however, you're set in your rhythm and I grind my hips into you to match. The handcuffs are throwing my balance off and I'm quite sloppy in my attempt to keep up with your speed. Eventually you lean forward and push yourself as deep into me as you grind, rubbing the tip of your head directly on my spot, causing me to pant and writhe beneath you. This is why I allow you to torture me. This is why I keep coming back. You drop your head and nip at my shoulder, extracting a groan from me. Reaching back, you pull my legs one at a time to wrap around your midsection and I cross my ankles, resting my heels on your back. With each thrust, you graze against my knot and I almost don't mind that my cock has been severely neglected throughout this ordeal... almost.

I find your thin arms wrapping themselves under me causing me to arch further into you, our bodies almost flush. I close my eyes gently as you lick the supple skin on my neck, then tweak my flesh with your teeth. My engorged dick is graced with rubbing against your stomach every other push and I'm bordering on overload. Obviously, so are you. I feel it in the way your body tenses, your breathing spikes and hitches in the back of your throat, and your nails dig into my back. Our rhythm grows faster. I can feel how lost you are, how frantic you are becoming for release. Again, you don't warn me; there is no need. I feel you swell inside me, and then you throw your head back with a magnificent flounce of blond tresses. An intense groan erupts from you and I can take no more. I squirm and thrash beneath you, rubbing my cock against you enough for a release of hot cum to spurt forth, matching the load filling my insides. Several jerky thrusts later, your dick slides out of me and I shiver, feeling a strange sense of emptiness.

One look at my bound, semen drenched form slouched on your bed paints a twisted smile across your handsome face. A shaking hand reaches to remove the saturated silk from my mouth, making me cough and gasp for air. You discard the fabric and reach to grab a small, silver key to finally unleash me. With a small click of the key, my tired and bloodless arms droop to my sides. Those tender lips plant a kiss on my forehead before I watch you rise from the bed and scoop the long forgotten pile of clothes off the floor. A nod of your head towards the door invites me to join you in your marble shower. Even after all the things you do to me, I just can't bring myself to disobey you.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

AN: Pffft, I've been bad about disclaimers lately. Not mine the end. This applies to all my fanfiction. Anyway, I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it. I would have gone into more detail with the actual fucking part... but... this sucker is already 3100 words and there's only so much to be said without being redundant in an already lengthy piece. Anyway! As always, please R&R and do expect more Deth-smut from me! 8D