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"Hector, I want to be able to do more than just listen to you." You stand just below the vent in your bedroom, looking up into the shadows. He was a master at getting you worked up, using his beautiful prose to entice you, only to disappear back into the vents. Many nights you spent thinking of his words, and your desire had become too great to deal with alone. Now, only Hector's eyes greet you, as usual. It was always this way, as he insisted, despite your suggestions and assurances. Even now, as you say those words, you watch as his expression gives way to fear.
"No. I'm sorry, as much as I long for us to touch, to enjoy each other completely, I... I cannot bear being seen as I am. Your gaze would be too much. You must understand, yes?" He shrinks deeper back into the vent, just barely visible from where you stand. "I am sorry, but I am unable to grant this one desire of yours. Anything else, please, ask it of me."
It was clear from the way his voice strained that he wanted to be able to touch you, but his fear was holding him back. That hardly seemed fair, and though he wasn't comfortable yet, if the only issue was being seen... The solution was easy to imagine. "What about using a blindfold?" You suggest, managing a fairly casual tone. There was always a chance that he would refuse, and you wanted to give him room to do so, if he needed. Though, of course, you hoped he wouldn't.
Hector sputters, his voice shifting for a moment. "W-What? A blindfold?" You nod, and the vent is silent for a moment. Then, slowly, and more assuredly, he speaks again. "I... have never given thought to such a solution. Are you certain you would want that? To be touched by someone who you cannot see? Without knowing what I even look like?" He comes forward in the vent, though you can still only see his eyes. Still, from what you can see, his expression is a complex mix of dread and excitement. He clasps his hands nervously in front of him, waiting for your answer.
"Of course. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise." You answer with a smile, your heartbeat speeding up. The temperature in the room seems to increase. Hot air flows from the vent into the room, and you’re certain that it is unintentional.
"Very well. For anyone else but you, I would never risk something like this, but with you... There is so much I wish to do with you, for you. Please, do not peek, even if for a moment. I would not be able to handle your disappointment.” He pauses for a moment. “Ah, but do not listen to me and my worries. You are trying to do something good for both of us. Are you... ready now?” The longing is clear in his voice. He wants you to be ready now.
After you promise that you won't look, avoiding commenting on his self-deprecation for the moment, you turn towards your closet and fetching out a scarf. With your back to the vent, you carefully layer the fabric over your eyes and around your head, until all you can see is darkness. For a makeshift blindfold, it's fairly comfortable. You test the stability of it to ensure that it'll stay on, before turning back towards the vent. Or at least, you think you've turned back towards the vent. "Okay, it's on." You call out to the room.
It takes a few moments before you begin to hear a sort of rattling noise, one you recognize as Hector moving forward in the vents. From the sound of it, he must have come to the very edge of the grate, not quite ready to leave yet.
"Hector?" You ask, partly a little lost without your sight.
"You cannot see me? Even a little bit?" He asks, his voice still coming from the vent.
"Not even a little bit. Total darkness."
The sound of shaking metal reaches your ears. A grate detaches, making a distinctive sound as it swings downwards. Then, the sound of someone gently landing on your bedroom floor. Soft steps make their way to you, tentative at first. Then, they stop somewhere in front of you. A feeling of air passes by your face, and you realize that he must have just waved a hand in front of your face. Satisfied that you cannot see him, he breathes out a sigh of relief.
"You cannot imagine my feelings for you, but now, with this wonderful opportunity that you have created, I have a small chance to show you. Give me the word, and I shall do anything you want." His voice reaches your ears, now lacking the tinny echo of the vents. Knowing that he is in front of you, finally, fills you with a kind of desperation that you didn't expect. All of his writings, all the things he said he would do to you if only he could, they come to the forefront of your mind.
"Hector, please." You breathe out. "I want you to touch me."
He does so swiftly. His hands trace your body, light as a breeze. One traces its way from your collarbone to your chin, tilting you into a kiss. His lips meet yours, warm and soft. It's a gentle kiss, but one that quickly picks up in enthusiasm as you reciprocate. His other hand ghosts over your hips, your back, as if wanting to be everywhere and yet still hesitant. Still worried, somehow.
You reach out your hands, wrapping around his figure. From what you can feel, he's wearing some kind of metallic suit, smooth to the touch but with some sharp angles. You feel something sticking out from his suit. Are these pipes? Your hands drift further across what you assume is his chest. Is this his body, the thing he is so ashamed of? To your surprise, it isn't cold, but rather bears that same warmth that always seems to flow from Hector during cold days. He pauses for a moment, pulling away from the kiss, but quickly goes for another upon hearing the distressed noise you make. His lips become desperate as you continue to run your fingers across his body, forgetting his concerns.
Hector’s hand slips lower, tracing down your sternum and onto your stomach. His touch is dedicated, sensual, in its slow movements. "You are beautiful." He murmurs. His other hand moves across your back, sending shivers up your spine. You can hear him chuckle when he notices the effect his hands seem to have on you, repeating the motion as you lean into his touch. "I cannot believe I am touching you. Is this what you have fantasized about, alone in your bed?" You make an almost panicked noise, which he quickly silences with another kiss. When you are quiet again, he continues. "Oh yes, I have seen you there, late at night." He teases, his voice low and steady. You can feel his breath tickling your ear. The hand not touching your back moves to ghost against your clothed breast. His fingers move slowly, brushing over your nipple. "I have seen how you touch yourself. How you like to be handled." His fingers begin to circle your nipple, which slowly hardens under his touch. It's a maddening motion, one that makes you shudder. Your heartbeat picks up as he adds more pressure. His other hand moves away from your back to toy with the hemline of your clothing. "Allow me, please, to remove this."
You make a breathy noise that he takes as an affirmative. His hands disappear for a moment, only for you to feel them tug your shirt off with ease, careful to avoid moving the blindfold. Then, he removes your bra, far more hurried than before. You can feel his urgency as he tossed the garment away. He moves back for a moment, as if stunned. You hear his breath quicken. Part of you imagines that he must be blushing fiercely, if only you could see him. Then, as if remembering himself, he quickly begins pressing surprise kisses to your jaw and neck, inching lower with each kiss. Between each kiss, you can hear him murmuring small compliments. He has so many of them, interrupted by each press of his lips to your skin. It is hard not to move around due to the small, sudden touches, but his hands keep you steady. His lips go lower, hands now at your hips, before he blows some air onto your nipple. You shiver, goosebumps appearing on your skin, as the feeling increases your sensitivity. He does the same to the other, clearly enjoying your reaction. After a moment, his fingers return to your nipples, announcing their presence with a light pinch. You give out a slight moan in response, unable to do anything but focus on the sensation, due to the blindfold restricting your vision. He chuckles lowly as you move against his touch.
There is a strange clicking noise, followed by a sort of whirring, and suddenly, the air around you cools. You realize he must have adjusted himself, and now his fingers carry a light chill that dances across your skin. Sometimes you forget, but he really does control the temperature in this house. Even now, he's adjusting it in pursuit of your pleasure. His hands continue to toy with your breasts, the sensation heightened by the chill his hands now bring. Not cold enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. Unable to see what he might do next, each touch is a surprise. He pinches your nipple again, harder this time. The feeling, the cold, is electrifying.
One of his hands leaves your breast, moving downwards towards your waist. His fingers find the button for your pants, and quickly undo it, pulling them down, along with your underwear, exposing you to the cool air. With the garments removed, his hands work their way towards your thighs. You shiver again, the cold of his hands now contrasting with the warmth of your inner thigh. His thumb strokes against your skin, teasing you. "Tell me how much you enjoy my touch." He whispers to you. As he requests it, words spill from you, a mix of compliments and begging. His touch remains steady, not quite enough. You buck your hips lightly, as if trying to get him to touch you further.
Another click, and his hands become pleasantly warm again. The air rises back to a comfortable temperature. Leaving your thigh, his hand slips between your legs to gently stroke at your clit. You buck against his palm, trying to gain more friction. His touch is too light, not enough to satisfy your needs. His fingers move slowly, coating themselves in your wetness. He moves in small circles, picking up speed slightly, until he hits that sweet spot of pressure and speed, just how you like it. He really was paying attention to your late night sessions. You lean against him to support yourself, unable to focus on anything but his touch.
"Hector, the bed." You say, trying to gesture towards it. It seems like you were slightly mistaken, as he takes your hand and leads you to it, where you fall against the pillows. You hear the sound of something fairly heavy falling to the ground and assume that Hector is removing parts of his outfit. Laying on your back, you can feel the bed dip where Hector must now be. You can feel him leaning over you, his hands on either side of you. Upon touching his arm, your assumption is proven right, as he no longer seems to be wearing whatever metal suit he was wearing earlier.
Hector shifts on the bed, grabbing your thighs and spreading them. He wastes no time plunging two fingers inside of you. You imagine his hands, one of the only features he allows you to see, as his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you. He pumps them in and out a few times, just to ensure you are ready. When he removes them, you let out an accidental whine. Still desperate for more, you wait, feeling his weight shift, only to be surprised when you feel his lips between your legs. He kisses your thighs a few times before making his way to your core. Like everything he does, he begins slowly, sensually, testing your reactions to his ministrations. His tongue gradually adds pressure and motion, circling in tight rings. It sends sparks through your body, your muscles tensing with each movement.
By instinct, your hands find their way into his hair. You can feel little ringlets twisting around your fingers, so it must be curly. What color is it? In the darkness of the blindfold, all you have is your hands. Whatever he looks like, you can't imagine it's something to hide. He, for his part, seems to enjoy your touch, humming as you urge him to continue. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding them open for him.
The pressure causes heat to race up and down your skin. He works you like an expert, memorizing every motion that makes your squirm or moan. His pace is steady, and you find yourself lost in his rhythms. Tension builds inside of you, coiling like a spring. You can’t help but writhe, his touch nearly pushing you over the edge, but his hands keep you firmly in place. He tastes you like a man starved of food, and it only takes a few more moments of his dedicated worship for it all to come crashing down on you. The heat, the pressure, you feel the coil inside of you snap and pleasure washes over your senses. Hector continues through your orgasm, only stopping once you finally relax into the bed sheets.
When you are finished, still sticky with sweat, you push yourself upwards, onto your elbows. Hector’s weight is still on the bed, shifting slightly. You hear another noise, the sound of something else clicking, like a belt buckle. Still feeling lightheaded from your previous orgasm, you lie there for a moment, waiting for his next move. You shiver when his hand appears on you, tracing your collarbone. “You overwhelm me. I cannot think around you, all I desire is to please you. But now, if you’ll let me- I need you. Please, I cannot wait much longer.” Hector says, above you, his voice wavering. You can feel him, hard, waiting at your entrance, shaking as he resists the urge.
With your approval, he slides himself into you, making a gasping noise as he does so. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily. Even from the bed, you can feel the temperature of the room rise significantly. Still, eventually he begins to move. It only takes a moment for his slow pacing to break, speeding up significantly with each thrust as he is taken by the sensation of you. He fills you completely. From the feeling of it, this aspect of his body is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. You can’t help but moan as he finds a particularly good angle that makes you see stars. He praises your body, the softness of your skin, your warmth, the way you so enthusiastically take him. Now moving with reckless abandon, he thrusts into you with fierce intensity, sending heat throughout your body. You clench around him, feeling your second orgasm begin to build. His hand moves, suddenly at your clit, sensitive as he is to your pleasure. You feel lightheaded, almost weightless, as he dedicates himself to your desire. Your whole body is alight.
His hips begin to stutter, his words become incoherent. You feel all your muscles tense. Everything is hot, though whether that’s from him or from your activities, you don’t know. The world disappears for a moment, and pleasure washes over you as your second orgasm hits. It’s enough to send him over. He slams his hips into you, shuddering as he finishes inside you.
He collapses, halfway on top of you, still murmuring sweet nothings. You wrap your arms around him, enjoying the feeling of your skin pressed against his. It’s odd, in some ways, to be so close to someone and still not know what they look like. Still, at this moment, it doesn’t matter. He is comfortable, and so are you. It takes him some time to move, but before he does, he presses more kisses to your lips and face. “Please, wait here. Do not remove the blindfold until I say so.” With one final squeeze of your hand, he leaves the bed, where you can hear the sounds of someone hastily redressing themselves. Eventually, you hear the metal clang of the grate.
“You may look now.” He says, voice echoing slightly. You take the blindfold off. Clothing is strewn around, and Hector now watches you from the vent, eyes only visible. It is almost unbearably hot in this room. He’s clearly flushed, even without seeing his face. Hector clears his throat. “I cannot tell you what that was for me. Transcendent. A divine experience. Beyond my wildest fantasies. You have given me everything, things I would never have dared to imagine. I would not want to presume, but… was it enough for you? Everything you wanted?”
You pause for a moment, getting off the bed to gather your thrown off clothing items. “It was wonderful, but enough? Hector, I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” You wink at him, his eyes going wide.
You have the good sense to keep the blindfold in easy reach of your bed, for future usage.