Thank you everyone for your kind comments! They inspired me to write and so I got done faster than expected.
This is officially the second-longest thing I've published, ever. I hope you realize that. And I can't post it on ao3 because nobody there knows I write smut. :P But seriously thank you for this great inspirational prompt, I've had so much fun writing it. This got a bit fluffy at the end and I hope you don't mind too much.
-
Strange huffed a laugh and moved back down to Norrell's breeches. He made short work of them and of his smallclothes until Norrell was finally as bare as Strange himself.
"Now we are on equal footing," he said. "Have you lost some of your detachment? I see you do not reach for your notes."
Norrell flushed. "I shall still make a record of this," he said, "All of this. But - er - not just at the moment."
Strange gave him a wicked, wild smile and said, "Then I shall have to set to work."
This was his first time at taking a man into his mouth, and yet he had roughly the same sorts of arrangements Mr Norrell. Arabella had done this for him often, and he knew how to use his mouth on her, so he was certain he had the requisite oral dexterity. Surely it could not be so difficult.
He began as he would have with her, pressing sucking kisses to Norrell's thighs, eliciting sounds from Norrell that escaped through clenched teeth. "There is no need to restrain yourself," he breathed. "There is no one here to hear you."
"It is so terribly undignified and out of keeping with the spirit of the experiment," said Norrell, hands fisting in Strange's hair.
"Ah, but if you restrain your own reactions, how will you get accurate impressions?" Strange blew on the crown of Norrell's prick, then pressed an open mouthed kiss to it, and Norrell shivered.
"That is a point with some - merit," he said, stumbling over the last word as Strange licked along the shaft.
Then Strange took the head into his mouth. Norrell made a sound quite unlike Strange had ever heard from him, a sort of stuttering moan. Encouraged, Strange moved a little farther up. He overshot slightly, having been too confident, and had to back off for a moment, coughing briefly.
"Are you quite all right, sir?" said Norrell from above him.
"It is merely a minor miscalculation," said Strange. He resumed more carefully this time, wrapping a hand around what he did not think he could envelop. The taste was most peculiar, a sort of bitterness, but not entirely unpleasant. He felt that he could get used to it. He worked his tongue along the length slowly, dragging on and off, listening to Norrell's tiny still-muffled gasps. Yes, decidedly he could get used to this.
In fact, the proceedings were affecting him distinctly. Norrell's voice making little broken sounds above him - sounds Strange had never heard him make - was intoxicating. There was a sense of power and yet surrender, giving and taking at once. It was like and unlike it would have been with Arabella. After a while Strange realized he was feeling a great and tender fondness for Norrell, a desire to take care of him, which he did not fully understand. Suddenly he wanted to feel Norrell against him. He pulled off.
"I will finish later," said Strange. "It will be a reward for you if you will kindly refrain from touching your notebook in any way until we are finished."
Norrell frowned. "Then how am I to record anything?"
"Do it afterwards," said Strange in exasperation.
"I may forget."
"In which case I must have done something very wrong. I assure you, such encounters usually stick in the memory. My first time with Arabella - "
"Please, Mr Strange," said Norrell, with some horror, "Do not speak to me of your wife now."
"Of course. My apologies." Strange climbed up on the bed beside Norrell. "I beg your pardon, this is terribly ungentlemanly of me, but if you could please - "
Norrell nodded. Then he frowned. "What shall I do?"
"Anything," said Strange. "Anything, please. Only touch me."
Norrell stared at him for a moment with a look of critical inquiry which, most peculiarly, made him feel warmer. Then he said, "Would you like me to reciprocate?"
"Oh," said Strange, suddenly feeling vastly unprepared. "Are you sure? You do not find it distasteful?"
"I have questions that must be answered regarding the nature of the relief needed by the spell," said Norrell. "Namely whether it must be another's hand. A practical magician stops at nothing to confirm his theories. He does not regard any little apprehension he may feel at a new situation."
Strange privately thought that Norrell regarded nothing but his apprehensions most of the time, but saying so would only have caused strife. "If you are certain you wouldn't mind," he said. "I should not wish you to feel obligated, nor to do anything you do not desire."
"No, indeed, I am most interested in the question. How best might we arrange ourselves? I do not want to kneel. It is not good for my knees."
Strange snorted. "Well, if I lay on my back and you slide down - "
"That will be satisfactory."
Norrell was remarkably calm, and indeed he seemed to have regained his composure entirely, which Strange thought was thoroughly unfair. He had the dark suspicion that he was still being regarded largely as a test subject, and that his lesson had done no good at all. But it was far too late for him to be bothered about that. He only lay down and let Norrell do what he would.
"I am not entirely sure of the procedure," said Norrell from the general vicinity of his hips. "How should I - "
"Oh!" said Strange. "I am hardly an expert either. Er. Whatever comes naturally, I suppose."
"That," said Norrell reprovingly, "is hardly helpful." He leaned forward and licked daintily at Strange's cock. Strange gave a tiny gasp at the flickering little touch.
Unlike Strange, Norrell did not exceed his own limits. He proceeded with the utmost caution, first sucking a little at the head, and then drawing a bit more of it into his mouth; then he pulled back to lick a little more, as if accustoming himself to the taste of it. These teasing brushes, light and fleeting, made Strange mad with longing for more. But he did not speak; it was best to let Norrell proceed at his own pace.
He did, however, ask, "May I put my hands in your hair?"
Norrell looked up at him. "Oh. I suppose so. If you do not push."
"I would never." Strange brought his hands up and brushed Norrell's scalp, taking great care not to exert any downward force. He found himself comparing this experience to ones with Arabella again - she had great masses of silky dark curls which he often loosed when they went to bed together just so he could feel them between his fingers. Norrell's hair was cropped short still - though he had lost his wig by now - but the texture was not unpleasant either. It was a little like grass, stubby and a little scratchy and yet soft as well. He lost himself for a while rubbing Norrell's hair and ears, massaging gently.
Norrell was growing bolder now, taking more of Strange's prick into his mouth. Strange's hands on his head kept wringing low sounds out of him, which caused a very pleasant tingling vibration. Strange suspected Norrell had no more experience than he, but he was far too caught up in the sensations to mind much, and anyway it would have been hypocritical of him to object. In future they could -
No, he told himself, there was not going to be any future. This was a single occasion brought on by desperation.
But he realized with a horrible lurch that he would not mind if there were future occasions on which they touched and kissed and even fucked, perhaps. Indeed, he found the thought very pleasant.
An Investigation Into The Effects Of Penwell (3/5)
This is officially the second-longest thing I've published, ever. I hope you realize that. And I can't post it on ao3 because nobody there knows I write smut. :P But seriously thank you for this great inspirational prompt, I've had so much fun writing it. This got a bit fluffy at the end and I hope you don't mind too much.
-
Strange huffed a laugh and moved back down to Norrell's breeches. He made short work of them and of his smallclothes until Norrell was finally as bare as Strange himself.
"Now we are on equal footing," he said. "Have you lost some of your detachment? I see you do not reach for your notes."
Norrell flushed. "I shall still make a record of this," he said, "All of this. But - er - not just at the moment."
Strange gave him a wicked, wild smile and said, "Then I shall have to set to work."
This was his first time at taking a man into his mouth, and yet he had roughly the same sorts of arrangements Mr Norrell. Arabella had done this for him often, and he knew how to use his mouth on her, so he was certain he had the requisite oral dexterity. Surely it could not be so difficult.
He began as he would have with her, pressing sucking kisses to Norrell's thighs, eliciting sounds from Norrell that escaped through clenched teeth. "There is no need to restrain yourself," he breathed. "There is no one here to hear you."
"It is so terribly undignified and out of keeping with the spirit of the experiment," said Norrell, hands fisting in Strange's hair.
"Ah, but if you restrain your own reactions, how will you get accurate impressions?" Strange blew on the crown of Norrell's prick, then pressed an open mouthed kiss to it, and Norrell shivered.
"That is a point with some - merit," he said, stumbling over the last word as Strange licked along the shaft.
Then Strange took the head into his mouth. Norrell made a sound quite unlike Strange had ever heard from him, a sort of stuttering moan. Encouraged, Strange moved a little farther up. He overshot slightly, having been too confident, and had to back off for a moment, coughing briefly.
"Are you quite all right, sir?" said Norrell from above him.
"It is merely a minor miscalculation," said Strange. He resumed more carefully this time, wrapping a hand around what he did not think he could envelop. The taste was most peculiar, a sort of bitterness, but not entirely unpleasant. He felt that he could get used to it. He worked his tongue along the length slowly, dragging on and off, listening to Norrell's tiny still-muffled gasps. Yes, decidedly he could get used to this.
In fact, the proceedings were affecting him distinctly. Norrell's voice making little broken sounds above him - sounds Strange had never heard him make - was intoxicating. There was a sense of power and yet surrender, giving and taking at once. It was like and unlike it would have been with Arabella. After a while Strange realized he was feeling a great and tender fondness for Norrell, a desire to take care of him, which he did not fully understand. Suddenly he wanted to feel Norrell against him. He pulled off.
"I will finish later," said Strange. "It will be a reward for you if you will kindly refrain from touching your notebook in any way until we are finished."
Norrell frowned. "Then how am I to record anything?"
"Do it afterwards," said Strange in exasperation.
"I may forget."
"In which case I must have done something very wrong. I assure you, such encounters usually stick in the memory. My first time with Arabella - "
"Please, Mr Strange," said Norrell, with some horror, "Do not speak to me of your wife now."
"Of course. My apologies." Strange climbed up on the bed beside Norrell. "I beg your pardon, this is terribly ungentlemanly of me, but if you could please - "
Norrell nodded. Then he frowned. "What shall I do?"
"Anything," said Strange. "Anything, please. Only touch me."
Norrell stared at him for a moment with a look of critical inquiry which, most peculiarly, made him feel warmer. Then he said, "Would you like me to reciprocate?"
"Oh," said Strange, suddenly feeling vastly unprepared. "Are you sure? You do not find it distasteful?"
"I have questions that must be answered regarding the nature of the relief needed by the spell," said Norrell. "Namely whether it must be another's hand. A practical magician stops at nothing to confirm his theories. He does not regard any little apprehension he may feel at a new situation."
Strange privately thought that Norrell regarded nothing but his apprehensions most of the time, but saying so would only have caused strife. "If you are certain you wouldn't mind," he said. "I should not wish you to feel obligated, nor to do anything you do not desire."
"No, indeed, I am most interested in the question. How best might we arrange ourselves? I do not want to kneel. It is not good for my knees."
Strange snorted. "Well, if I lay on my back and you slide down - "
"That will be satisfactory."
Norrell was remarkably calm, and indeed he seemed to have regained his composure entirely, which Strange thought was thoroughly unfair. He had the dark suspicion that he was still being regarded largely as a test subject, and that his lesson had done no good at all. But it was far too late for him to be bothered about that. He only lay down and let Norrell do what he would.
"I am not entirely sure of the procedure," said Norrell from the general vicinity of his hips. "How should I - "
"Oh!" said Strange. "I am hardly an expert either. Er. Whatever comes naturally, I suppose."
"That," said Norrell reprovingly, "is hardly helpful." He leaned forward and licked daintily at Strange's cock. Strange gave a tiny gasp at the flickering little touch.
Unlike Strange, Norrell did not exceed his own limits. He proceeded with the utmost caution, first sucking a little at the head, and then drawing a bit more of it into his mouth; then he pulled back to lick a little more, as if accustoming himself to the taste of it. These teasing brushes, light and fleeting, made Strange mad with longing for more. But he did not speak; it was best to let Norrell proceed at his own pace.
He did, however, ask, "May I put my hands in your hair?"
Norrell looked up at him. "Oh. I suppose so. If you do not push."
"I would never." Strange brought his hands up and brushed Norrell's scalp, taking great care not to exert any downward force. He found himself comparing this experience to ones with Arabella again - she had great masses of silky dark curls which he often loosed when they went to bed together just so he could feel them between his fingers. Norrell's hair was cropped short still - though he had lost his wig by now - but the texture was not unpleasant either. It was a little like grass, stubby and a little scratchy and yet soft as well. He lost himself for a while rubbing Norrell's hair and ears, massaging gently.
Norrell was growing bolder now, taking more of Strange's prick into his mouth. Strange's hands on his head kept wringing low sounds out of him, which caused a very pleasant tingling vibration. Strange suspected Norrell had no more experience than he, but he was far too caught up in the sensations to mind much, and anyway it would have been hypocritical of him to object. In future they could -
No, he told himself, there was not going to be any future. This was a single occasion brought on by desperation.
But he realized with a horrible lurch that he would not mind if there were future occasions on which they touched and kissed and even fucked, perhaps. Indeed, he found the thought very pleasant.