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Day 17 - Licking // Pegging
The fans of the Prydwen hum above him, the soft crash of turbulence echoing in the metal chambers around them. The sound of metalworking drifts down from above, muffled through floors and ceilings, and Danse can see the sparks darting across the floor, the careful machinations of the engineers as they pull apart and put together the bodies of their precious power armors.
Down here, locked away in his room, everyone else in the Prydwen feels strangely close by; as though they’re all taking turns in their busy schedules to walk by his room, the corridor brimming with people, straining to hear through the wrought iron door. His room is a small ocean of peace, surrounded by a brimming, bustling city, all eyes trained outwards.
They’ve been quiet - at least, Danse knows Nora’s been quiet. She knows what’s at stake here, perhaps more so than himself because she’s an outsider to all this. Perhaps, even more tantalising, because she’s done this before.
The thought makes excitement rise in him, makes him almost giddy, in a way unbefitting of a Paladin. He’s a seasoned, well-versed veteran of the Brotherhood of Steel, a survivor of the worst the Commonwealth has to offer. Yet here, on his hands and knees, his body almost spilling off the mattresses they’ve pilfered, Danse feels more like the scrawny, scared teenager he used to be more than anything else.
Nora’s hands trace his hips, and they’re warm, soft, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knows she’d never hurt him. It was a revelation that had stunned him as he'd realised it; that his protege had transformed from that scruffy, scrappy wasteland that had walked into that police station in Cambridge into his right-hand woman, a soldier who devoted her whole self into fighting alongside of him. And then within that, spiralling beyond his iron control, someone who would go above and beyond that to keep him safe. Who would do anything to keep him safe.
The trust he has in her is greater than all he’s ever known.
He can't remember how he asked her to do this. He knows he asked, but the memory is hidden under boiling hot shame, and a kind of insane arousal. More to the point, he can't remember where Nora managed to actually find the - er - required equipment, but he figures, as he stares at the diamond-crossed pattern on the mattress between his hands, it's probably not worth the trouble.
He can feel her, warm against the back of his thighs, a hand, gentle, running through his hair, nails scratching reassuringly against the skin of his scalp, before running down his back, to where her other hand rests, stroking his hip with her thumb. She rubs against his flanks, stroking him like a skittish dog.
'Are you ready?'
'Affirmative.' He can't help it.
She must be able to tell, because she says, 'We don't have to do this. You don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to.'
'No.' And he believes it. 'It's just nerves.'
'Danse . . .'
There's something about that that makes his arousal grow. His penis is hard between his thighs, twitching a little as she drops his title. There's something secretive about it, that alone, in private, just between the two of them, she calls him by his own name.
'It's okay.' He says firmly. 'I want it.'
He'd stretched himself out. She'd been there to give a helping hand, so to speak, kiss away any pain, but he had been the one to do it. It felt more natural when it was himself doing it, touching himself, his own body. He'd always pushed himself to his limits, and this was no different. He'd be the one to take himself even further. It was surprisingly enjoyable. He'd never imagined penetrative sex to be enjoyable on his part, though it was less because he held no interest and more because the thought had never occurred to him. The Brotherhood demanded so much from him, so much that he gave willingly, that sex was something he had put on the back burner, to wait until the right opportunity to arise to be heated up.
Exploring it with Nora was as gratifying as it was enjoyable. It explained a little why all those knights, scribes and paladins had scurried off to fumble around whilst on duty, or in their spare time.
He wonders if any of them had done what he was currently doing.
'May I?' She rubs the back of his thighs.
'Please.' His voice breaks.
Something round presses against him, a solid weight. Her thumb strokes his thigh, an anchor, tying him back to reality, even as the pressure begins to grow. He dips his head down, a burn spreading from his neck all the way to his ears, and he knows they must be bright red. It feels ok, just a presence inside of him. The equipment pushes on, and he gasps at the stretch, unlike anything he's ever had before, the pressure insane, everything lighting up inside of him as it enters him, and he wonders if this is what it feels like for Nora to be fucked by him.
Well. Not really. The equipment is smaller than his girth.
He clenches down, and the feeling of something in him makes him groan. He sees himself suddenly; the great paladin on his hands and knees, being serviced by his own knight, getting fucked full, begging for it, and it makes his head spin. Danse swallows hard, resists the urge to squeeze his legs together, tries to focus on breathing through the penetration, on the arousal throbbing through his penis.
'Keep breathing.' Nora urges softly, running her hand down his flanks, squeezing his hip, on him, always on him. 'Keep breathing for me, handsome.'
The pet names she calls him don't help. They don't help in the field, but here is something else. Before, as he'd fucked himself on his fingers, moaning as loudly as he dared, she'd stroked his hair, called him handsome, her handsome man, and it had made him gasp, made his stomach molten. It sends a jolt down to his dick, and he lets out a low moan.
'That's it, that's it, I'm almost there.'
He can feel the warmth of her thighs, her crotch growing closer to him, the length going and going, until he can feel the fabric of the straps at her hips, the cold plate where the equipment is attached to.
Nora's murmuring something above him, praise that floats above his head as he groans as the feeling of his guts being completely stuffed full. His hands clench and unclench on the mattress, his penis twitching as a drop of pre-cum dribbles out. It's so overwhelming he can barely think.
There's a shuffle, and then the equipment is pulling out, before gently coming back in, sending electricity down his spine. He moans, and it sounds like something that should be coming out of Nora's mouth: high-pitched, desperate.
But Nora's laughing, squeezing his hips again, and says, 'Does that feel good?'
'Y-yeah.' He manages to splutter out, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead, off of his jaw. His dick twitches as she squeezes one of his buttocks. 'Feels - really good.'
He can hear the smile in her voice. 'Outstanding.'
She thrusts back in, and it feels delightful. He'd never known pleasure like this. All the times he'd managed to take a hand to his penis in-between training paled in comparison to it. He wants to back up, feel more, get more. He wants to cum like this, with his right hand woman fucking his brains out.
The first time they'd done this position, he'd pushed himself in and revelled in how hot and wet she felt, how she'd tightened as he had thrust back in, the way she bounced back onto him. He wonders exactly how she sees him now: her paladin unravelling at her touch.
The toy brushes against his innards, pleasure coursing through him. The more she thrusts, the easier it becomes, his body relaxing, letting her in, going faster, harder, until he can practically taste the feeling of her filling him up. Her hips clap against him and he moans, louder than he intends, each moan punched out with each thrust, and he has to bite his lips down to stop himself from being any louder.
He feels drunk, his body flushed warm, tingling spreading down his back to his buttocks, and he’s struggling to breathe properly. The air is heavy, thick with sex and sweat, and it feels like every breath out takes two more in.
Danse wants to grab at something, anything, but all he can do is kneel there and take it.
Wetness is gathering at the backs of his thighs, and the knowledge it might be from him being fucked sloppy, or from Nora's wetness dripping down makes warmth spread from his stomach to his penis. It bounces with every thrust, pre-cum pooling from the tip, and he wants to touch it more than anything. But doing so could result in him tumbling with a thud to the mattress, and he doesn't want any attention brought to what they're doing.
'Nora.' he rasps. 'Nora - please -'
'Please?'
'Touch me,' he's never been one to plead, but he pleads now. Sweat slicks his hair to his forehead, his skin burning, gasping like he's run miles. He wants to cum so badly. 'Please touch me.'
'Danse. . .'
'Please.' He whines - he whines, and he doesn't care. He wants to spread his legs and let her fuck him harder, let her fuck him until he cries, until his body is nothing more than just another toy for her to use, he wants and wants and wants. 'Let me cum, please.'
She huffs a breath, but a hand sneaks between his thighs and grabs his penis, her fingers cool against his overheated skin, only adding to the pleasure. He gasps, angles his hips back like he's offering himself to her, and tries to move back with her. She stops, and puts a thigh up, her foot pressed against his calf.
And then she's fucking into him hard, slamming into him so hard he actually jolts forward a little, her hand stroking him in time with her thrusts, her hips clapping against his skin, damp and warm, and the pressure makes his eyes roll in his head. His orgasm is building in his stomach, speeding along like a train, and he won't have much longer -
'Thank you -' he gasps, 'Thank you, thank you, oh, Nora, thank you -'
She fucks into him hard, hitting something that makes him yelp, and his orgasm unravels. He cums, his body shuddering out, unsure if he wants to keep her inside, and he feels a little splash of cum hitting his wrist. His mouth drops, and a soundless moan spills from his lips, as Nora fucks the last little stretch of his orgasm from him.
He feels lighter, somehow. Tension dissipating from him and rising with his orgasm. He feels relaxed.
Nora lets go of his penis, still fully sheathed inside of him. His balls hurt, not fully emptied from his orgasm, and he dimly realises he doesn't really know why. She places her hands on his hips, gently, ever so gently, pulling the equipment out of him. By contrast, the emptiness inside of him feels . . . odd. He contemplates it as his knees give out and he drops to his front on the mattress with a thud. A semi-loud thud. His buttocks feel slimy from the lubricant he used, and which Nora had slathered over the equipment before using it.
Her voice washes over him, low and soothing. 'Was that good?'
'Yeah.' He mumbles. 'Really good.'
'Outstanding?'
He smiles. 'Outstanding.'
'Good.' She strokes his buttocks, runs her hand up to his back to rub it reassuringly. 'You did so well.'
He tries not to smile at the praise, looks over his shoulder instead. She's kneeling, one foot up, around his legs, the equipment slung across her hips, straps digging in deliciously to the soft skin there. Her breasts glisten with a fine sheen of sweat, and as she pushes her hair out of her face, the light dipping into the rise and fall of her shoulder and bicep, he thinks she looks like a war goddess.
He looks between her thighs, the sliver of space only just peeking out from under the equipment. 'Did you . . .?'
'No.' She tilts her head. 'Would you like to help with that?'
Danse smiles, 'Please.'
He moves to roll onto his back, wincing at the pain that suddenly darts up his spine. Before him, Nora smiles as she begins to stand up.
'It'll hurt a little. It's a good thing you're lying down; chances are you'll feel a bit wobbly when you try to stand.'
'Oh?'
'Mmm-hmmm.' She reaches to her hips and pulls the straps down and off of her, stepping out of them, and carefully putting them to the side. She smiles down at him, angles her hips. 'You were good at staying quiet, Paladin.'
'Thank you.'
'Though, maybe not so much towards the end. You did get a little loud.' She moves forward, placing both feet by his neck, looming over him.
'Oh dear.'
'Yeah.' She reaches down and spreads herself open.
She's soaking wet, the insides of her thighs wet, and her clitoris swollen. His mouth feels dry, and he licks his lips. He wants nothing more than to devour her.
'Don't worry.' Nora says as she begins to kneel down. 'I have a way to keep you quiet.'