![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windandwater[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<_<>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
<_<>_>
... for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="jana1x2x1">, because I promised and the damn bunny won't leave me alone.
EDIT... read the warnings, please?
<lj-cut text="cut for unbetaed, unedited ficishness stuffs">
Breathless (lame title, I know... I'm so ashamed >< ))
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS... smut, masturbation, autoerotic asphixiation. Heero POV. This is a sort of experimental piece for me.
--------------------------------------------
The first time had been an accident.
In the dead of the night, one hand grasped firmly around his hard and ready flesh, he had struggled not to make any sounds as pleasure poured through his senses. His hand jerked and stroked, quickening its pace of almost its own will, and he had clenched his jaw tight, stifling the moans and shouts that would have issued from his throat. Was this a forbidden exercise? He didn't know, but couldn't have been made to stop, no matter what punishments or retraining he would have had to endure. But still, he remained quiet, toes digging into the thin mattress, hips pumping up even further into his tight grip.
But the sensory input was overwhelming and he had slapped his free hand over his mouth, muffling his own cries. And it was an accident... a miscalculation of his own strength. His hand-eye coordination had been not up to par and as he choked on his own pleasure, fire building in his belly, his hand pressed further and further against his mouth and nose. Stifling and already gasping, he could feel the blackness creep into the edges of his mind, even as his body exploded in a triumphant release.
And it was good. And it was an accident. And he lay on his tangled and sweat-soaked sheets, struggling to suck precious oxygen into his deprived yet sated body.
The second time had been an accident.
In an inconspicuous dormatory room, he had writhed against the standard-issued sheets, hips pressing and rubbing insistently against the mattress. For once his nighttime thoughts had not been filled with death and missions. He had been caught up in a pleasant dream that turned into waking fantasy, leaving him trembling and wanting. Face down, he thrust, soft groans escaping his throat as he sought friction and pressure and that unnameable heat again. And he knew that he had to be quiet, because the walls here were thin, and so it was only by chance that he pressed his face into his own pillow.
He moaned incoherently into the feathery mass, consumed by the driving force of pure animal lust and need between his legs. And with every thrust, his hands coming to graps himself again, his face was buried farther against the yeilding object. But even as it made way for him, it closed around him, cutting off the precious supply of air. But he hadn't cared... eager, seeking that same plataeu that he had never been able to find again since that first accidental time.
And he saw his eyesight dimming, felt his senses focusing only on the wanton lust on his groin and the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He panted, pressing his face and hips farther, harder, and as he came, steams of cum staining his hands and bed, the black that licked his mind completely consumed him.
He woke later, head turned to the side, panting and sweaty and laying in his own release. And he felt good. Better than before.
The third time had not been an accident.
------------------------------------------------
Hmmm... *pokes fic* I have two ways to write the next section. I don't know which to use, or which would be best.
... for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="jana1x2x1">, because I promised and the damn bunny won't leave me alone.
EDIT... read the warnings, please?
<lj-cut text="cut for unbetaed, unedited ficishness stuffs">
Breathless (lame title, I know... I'm so ashamed >< ))
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS... smut, masturbation, autoerotic asphixiation. Heero POV. This is a sort of experimental piece for me.
--------------------------------------------
The first time had been an accident.
In the dead of the night, one hand grasped firmly around his hard and ready flesh, he had struggled not to make any sounds as pleasure poured through his senses. His hand jerked and stroked, quickening its pace of almost its own will, and he had clenched his jaw tight, stifling the moans and shouts that would have issued from his throat. Was this a forbidden exercise? He didn't know, but couldn't have been made to stop, no matter what punishments or retraining he would have had to endure. But still, he remained quiet, toes digging into the thin mattress, hips pumping up even further into his tight grip.
But the sensory input was overwhelming and he had slapped his free hand over his mouth, muffling his own cries. And it was an accident... a miscalculation of his own strength. His hand-eye coordination had been not up to par and as he choked on his own pleasure, fire building in his belly, his hand pressed further and further against his mouth and nose. Stifling and already gasping, he could feel the blackness creep into the edges of his mind, even as his body exploded in a triumphant release.
And it was good. And it was an accident. And he lay on his tangled and sweat-soaked sheets, struggling to suck precious oxygen into his deprived yet sated body.
The second time had been an accident.
In an inconspicuous dormatory room, he had writhed against the standard-issued sheets, hips pressing and rubbing insistently against the mattress. For once his nighttime thoughts had not been filled with death and missions. He had been caught up in a pleasant dream that turned into waking fantasy, leaving him trembling and wanting. Face down, he thrust, soft groans escaping his throat as he sought friction and pressure and that unnameable heat again. And he knew that he had to be quiet, because the walls here were thin, and so it was only by chance that he pressed his face into his own pillow.
He moaned incoherently into the feathery mass, consumed by the driving force of pure animal lust and need between his legs. And with every thrust, his hands coming to graps himself again, his face was buried farther against the yeilding object. But even as it made way for him, it closed around him, cutting off the precious supply of air. But he hadn't cared... eager, seeking that same plataeu that he had never been able to find again since that first accidental time.
And he saw his eyesight dimming, felt his senses focusing only on the wanton lust on his groin and the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He panted, pressing his face and hips farther, harder, and as he came, steams of cum staining his hands and bed, the black that licked his mind completely consumed him.
He woke later, head turned to the side, panting and sweaty and laying in his own release. And he felt good. Better than before.
The third time had not been an accident.
------------------------------------------------
Hmmm... *pokes fic* I have two ways to write the next section. I don't know which to use, or which would be best.
