Visually Impaired

by Calico

July99 -- hey, I broke the C/P famine!

Okay, so they're not mine, I can live with that. And I'm assuming you haven't got a problem with pretty men enjoying each other, or you wouldn't be here. So, that's settled then. (Underage people, you sneak out the back now and no-one has to know, okay?)

However, I guess a few people might have stumbled into this sordid little introduction who shouldn't be here. So, those who think they probably won't like Calico's Mildly-Warped-BDSM had better leave now as well...

Those who remain, watch me wave gratefully to my sablings who made this so much more readable. Initially, though, this was a dream I had for Speedo. So many, many thanks in that direction too. <much appreciation>

Oh, and one last thing. I've been chastised for not including a 'don't read this in public' warning. Read into that what you will.


The pain arched through him. It stung, taking his breath, and his eyes watered. Chakotay noticed instantly, and his eyes narrowed.

"Don't," he warned softly, "do that."

Tom laughed, incredulous. "It's a fucking involuntary reaction," he snarled, "and your fault, too. You think I'd look this damaged if you'd never come near me?"

Chakotay stepped back, smiling slightly. Those dark eyes slid slowly down his body, and Tom gritted his teeth. He was not going to shiver, damnit. Not from being looked at. Not even from being assessed, which was the actual nature of that gaze.

The pain in his balls still circulated, burning with indignation, but the white-hot-fire-agony had abated. Which was a good thing, definitely. He wasn't a masochist.

Nearly, but not quite. And maybe that was where he'd chosen wrong -- the man with him seemed to balance the other side of that equation. Not fully, not completely, but still more than Tom had imagined.

He was damaged. His entire body had become a blend of regenerated skin and tissue. And he did enjoy it. Mostly.

But having his life expectancy quartered through his testicles wasn't quite his idea of fun.

Although he'd swear that was an accident. And his fault, actually. Chakotay had been biting him, teeth rubbing against the tendons of his neck, tongue sliding hot and raw across a fresh, stinging graze, and he'd been gasping for air.

And then warm fingers had closed around his balls, and an electric shock had ignited him, and Tom had scratched his nails viciously down Chakotay's spine.

Oh, big mistake. His eyes were still watering from it. Although, he noticed wryly, he was still hard.

Chakotay finished his appraisal and met his eyes. Tom arched his eyebrows, automatically defiant. This wasn't about spirit, not really, or possession, or any of the heavy stuff; this was about sensation, and contact. Fucking -- or in his case, getting fucked. Not that he was objecting. It felt fantastic. Oh, yes, he was still extremely hard.

"You don't like your new look? Purple suits you."

Tom laughed breathlessly, somehow relieved, as one hand came up to clear his vision.

Chakotay's mouth, curved in anticipation, hardened abruptly. "Stop," he said.

Tom froze automatically, and licked his lips, as the darker man's voice betrayed a low, possessive assurance. This wasn't about the heavy stuff, he reminded himself. Just about sensation.

And this wasn't new, this feeling of crumbling, but it still took his breath away.

Chakotay stepped up to him, tracing his lips with his deliberate thumbnail. Tom opened his mouth slightly, an invitation, which was ignored. The nail scratched down under his chin, bisecting the grazes on his throat, skimmed down his chest, dug briefly into his navel, swerved beneath his cock, and paused. The trail burned brightly, sharpened by the glow of heat from the other man's proximity.

"Don't blink," Chakotay instructed him quietly, and suddenly his nails bit into the skin of his balls, slicing Tom's already diminished life expectancy down a lot further.

Tom's jaw snapped shut and his head fell back, eyes smarting and blood racing, as the calculated pinch of nails seared through him. "Fucking hell Chakotay," he ground out, fighting the urge to stagger backwards, since he knew those fingers weren't about to let him run away.

Abruptly, the hold relaxed, and he was propelled back into the wall. And he was kissed, once, hard, as something was grabbed from a shelf to his left and dropped at their feet.

Tom reeled, hands going to the cool wall for support. Yeah, he'd needed quite a lot of that in the last forty-eight hours. Ever since he'd lost a bet -- one in which, he now knew, the outcome had been secure from the start.

Yes, the need of support had taken on a new of urgency, as Chakotay dissolved his defences one after the other. Although he wasn't objecting, and they both knew it.

Chakotay stepped carefully onto the shallow box, and Tom was looking up at him. Fuck. It was disorientating, felt like the gravity was wrong; previously, when he'd looked up at this view, he'd been pressed down onto a bed, with a pillow beneath his hips and four fingers twisted up his ass. Disorientating, yeah.

Burning eyes dissected him, and when the dark man spoke, it was more of a growl. "You blinked."

Tom's eyes widened at the accusation. "For god's sake, Chakotay," he drawled insolently, "you had me in a fucking death grip. I wasn't too concerned about anything except my future prospects as a parent. Which," he murmured, tilting his head indignantly, "I think you've just --"

Chakotay's palm slid across his lips, pressing his head back into the wall. "Bastard," Tom mumbled, indistinctly.

The hand between his legs flexed warningly, and he flinched, delighted. Jesus. He was a sick man. He should not enjoy this.

A fingernail toyed against him briefly, then cool air crept in as the hand made its way up to his face.

He blinked, surprised. Nonono. That wasn't right, how the fuck was he going to get off if Chak's fingers --

"You," he was interrupted harshly, "blinked again."

The hand across his mouth pressed harder, and pain grew where his head pressed into the wall. Then it released, moving up to cup the side of his head.

He licked his lips, injured. "What's the deal with blinking?" he demanded, wishing in vain that he didn't get quite so hot at being slammed up against the wall and growled and bitten at.

"Just don't," Chakotay advised. His eyes were sultry, smouldering.

His hands smoothed over Tom's face -- reminding him he had one, not just a pair of smarting nuts and a bruised lip -- then paused, thumbs resting against his cheekbones, fingers fanning out to tease into his hair.

He was now, Tom observed distractedly, imprisoned. Not that he was complaining.

Chakotay leaned in, tilting Tom's head back, and kissed the skin beneath his left eye. Tom's eyes fell closed, even as he felt the pressure of fingertips warning him not to do so.

And then Chakotay's tongue traced the underside of his eye, right up against the lashes, pressing at the seam, and Tom moaned at the slash of heat. And then, wondered frantically why.

He heard a slight dark chuckle, a change in pressure, then the voice murmured in his ear, "Open your eyes."

Fucking hell. This was dangerous, this was insane, he didn't want --

"Paris."

That voice was dangerously compelling. Dark. Not in a good way. In a very bad way, a way that was about to make him do something he'd really never considered before.

He looked up at Chakotay. The gaze that burnt down at him was sending mixed messages; blends of menace and lust and curious scepticism.

"You're sick," he observed. Yeah, okay, that had sounded a little appreciative. Had contained a tinge of admiration.

"And you're going along with it. Very willingly." Proving his point, Chakotay ground his hips into Tom's stomach, catching his cock between them. Tom groaned softly, pinned to the wall.

"Look at me," purred the dark voice. Tom focused on Chakotay's mouth, zeroing overwhelmingly close. His right eye, this time. The perfectly cut lips parted softly, and the pointed damp tip of Chakotay's familiar tongue drew a straight line along his lower lashes.

He had really never considered that as an erogenous zone. Because it wasn't. And now it was simply unfair of Chakotay to re-educate his nerves.

"You taste pleasant," Chakotay mouthed, faintest whisper making his skin tingle. "I expected you would."

The single stroke was repeated, and Tom realised belatedly that he must taste of salt. Which the other man enjoyed. This was why he'd been pinched so hard his eyes had watered. Oh, fuck.

He felt a familiar sinking feeling, which he'd grown to recognise over the last two days. The floor dissolved beneath his feet as his stomach dissolved within his ribs, realisation unfolding. Because with anyone else, this would be accidental curiosity -- but he wasn't with anyone else. Chakotay didn't tend to do things by chance. This was planned. Not spontaneous, but calculated, deliberate.

His mind wrapped around the thought, clinging to the recognition. Yes, manipulation, he'd been controlled.

The mouth drew close again, and his eye fluttered closed. Involuntary, sorry, but he couldn't control everything. He was barely in control as it was. And that was Chakotay's fault, anyway.

Lips pressed over his eyelid, warm and firm. Possibly a reprimand, but he couldn't tell. Chakotay's tongue swept over his lashes, licking at the join.

Tom murmured something indistinct, he wasn't sure what, and Chakotay paused, drawing back. His right hand scratched down Tom's cheek and pried between their bodies, enclosing both their cocks in his fingers.

The head of Tom's erection was pressed about halfway down Chakotay's shaft, trapped in a hot, damp grip. He bucked, desperate, and the fingers still against his face dug in warningly.

"My pace, you know that."

Sure he fucking did. But it was pretty easy to forget their rules when someone dangerous was sucking him off through his fucking eye.

Chakotay's thumb slid up his cheek, smoothing over his left eyelid. It was warm, drawing the moisture away, then flicking briefly between Chakotay's lips, then returning.

This was going too fast, too strange, and he was too turned on to recognise anything now.

He just whimpered quietly at the strangely erotic nature of Chakotay's whims, and let his brains dissolve into his blood and flow down into his cock.

That was where the rest of his blood was, after all. Hard and aching.

Chakotay's tongue teased the corner of his closed eye. Hot and moist, shifting and teasing until he got the hint and forced it open. It was difficult, yes. Every instinct in his body urged him to back away, to blink down hard, not to let anyone touch such a vulnerable area of his body.

Maybe that was the appeal. Crushing another barrier, permeating his defences, swift and total. Or perhaps Chakotay simply liked salt.

Gently, slowly, the tip of Chakotay's tongue ran along the inside of his eye. Tom shuddered, cock straining against the hard fist, as he focused a long way up, trying to keep the sensitive ring of colour away from the soft intruder.

His senses were filled with his lover. Yes, and he must be pretty close, since he only used that word when he forgot himself. Maybe he'd stay the night, this time. That was unlikely, though. And he didn't want to anyway. No, honestly. He didn't.

He swallowed, breathing hard, as Chakotay continued his exploration. Continued jerking him off. Words fell away, flaking into mindless sensation. Slowly, the hand moved, with tight, hard strokes, palm slicked over with pre-cum and sweat.

He was ascending; he couldn't help it. He clenched his teeth, as his hands went from the wall to Chakotay's hips, gripping hard, nails digging into the firm skin.

Chakotay's mouth came closer, hot air tingling against his eyelid, as his tongue insinuated itself back into the inner corner of his eye, pressing hard into the tear duct. And moving, twisting.

Sensation sparked around him and his vision was shot through with white light. Fucking hell that --

Chakotay's hand sped up sharply, suddenly demanding, as Tom felt his hips grind hard upwards, short fast thrusts, as spiralling heat sank swiftly into his tingling balls.

Chakotay's mouth drew back as he came, viciously, fastening onto Tom's lower lip and biting down hard. The pain and knowledge fused, as Chakotay's fist cramped down and gave him the combination that he needed.

Head cracking back into the wall, lip bleeding into his mouth, eyes stinging, pleasure arching, he cried out silently.


Comments and everything are welcome and replied to, at Calico@76sg.freeserve.co.uk.

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