Malevolent Fic: Some explicit PWP

Last night I was very bored and in a mood to write smut, so I asked for some prompts from friends.

Pairing: Arthur/John

Rating: Explicit

Tags & warnings: Fisting, PWP, a bit of sweet dirty talk, some light BDSM vibes, maybe a bit of praise kink and body worship

Literally nothing but smut all the way down.

A couple of people asked for vaginal fisting–though I ended up not making it explicit exactly which hole is getting fisted here, so go ahead and assume your preferred anatomy.

***

Three of John’s fingers—Arthur’s fingers—were buried in Arthur’s slit, hard fingertips thrusting into his softness. Arthur lay quiet for him, legs spread wide and back arched awkwardly to let John reach, but John didn’t need him to say anything. His panting and his wetness, between his legs and all over his inner thighs, told John everything he needed to know about his current state.

It excites you, John murmured, voice even throatier than usual. That I’m using your own hand to do this to you.

It excited John, for certain. To take this control he had over Arthur’s body and turn it on him, control him in so much more intimate ways… He groaned and thrust his fingers deeper. Fuck, Arthur, I want to…

His fingertips dragged across plush tissue over rings of hard muscle inside him and Arthur squirmed and moaned, his lovely light voice quavering. 

If only John had a cock. Fuck. He wanted to fill Arthur’s body. Occupy him entirely. Do things like this to his insides until every inch of Arthur was drowning in the sensation of him. He’d never felt an urge toward the orgasms that Arthur so enjoyed, but the way they made his body tremble and nerves light up…John could drink in the pleasure of keeping him like that forever. The pleasure of Arthur’s pleasure. The pleasure of being the one in control of it.

He had three fingers in Arthur and it wasn’t deep enough. He slid their little finger into him for the extra couple of inches he could gain, pushing their hand in up to the joint of their thumb.

Arthur gasped, startled and sharp. “John—!” He squirmed again, trying to pull back a little…only how could he retreat from his own hand? “Please! That’s…big!”

Easy, Arthur, John soothed. Relax and let it in. You can take it. You’re so soft and ready.

The sound Arthur made seemed unable to decide whether to be a grumble or a mewl. It fizzed in—if he could be permitted the metaphor—John’s blood. But he didn’t push. Let Arthur accommodate to it while John moved in and out of him shallowly, not retreating much but reinforcing his pleasure with little thrusting motions until the thrum of tension in Arthur’s body softened again back into that liquid flow.

He could never get enough of watching Arthur’s body like this. The way he moved, fluid and eager. All that bare skin, so alive to sensation. The way he went taut when John caught him off guard, like a wild animal.

It gave him an idea.

How does that feel now, Arthur? he purred.

“Mmmmmm.” This time when Arthur’s hips moved, it was thoughtful pleasure-seeking, pressing up to try to consume more of John’s hand. “It’s so…big.” He sighed, and his body yielded around John’s hand, a hidden tension leaving him with his breath. “God. I can’t even imagine…how it must look.”

The way you’re stretched so wide around me, John agreed with quiet hunger. You look debauched. It must feel so intense. Doesn’t it, Arthur? Do I feel deep inside you?

Arthur’s voice was rough and shaking. “Yes. Fuck, John. Yes.”

Do you think you can take more?

“More? I—”

I know you can take more. He let his voice go coaxing. For all the ways they could grate on each other, Arthur was weak to John’s praise and desires. John knew far too much about the ways he could have used that against the man—would have, in another life, had—and so had little taste to do so. But this was a different case. Trust me, Arthur. Let me give you more.

“I—” Oh, his hesitation was delicious. Lovely, even. The sheer fact he hesitated and didn’t immediately say no meant John had already won, but watching him, feeling him struggle with his own anxieties and instincts… Fuck, you’re beautiful, John breathed before he knew what he was saying.

Arthur’s body jumped in shock. His hips rocked on John’s hand. “What?” 

You’re so fucking brave, Arthur, John growled, because what the hell, Arthur deserved to hear it. You’re so goddamn strong. Look at you. All you’ve been through, and you still have it in you to test your limits and let me push you.

John meant every word, but he couldn’t fault it as a distraction. He’d folded his thumb into his palm and and was already sinking deeper into Arthur’s body before Arthur gasped again. This time, instead of fading, it caught in his voice and grew louder, into little high-pitched cries as John’s hand worked into him one little thrust after another, a fraction of an inch at a time. 

John growled again. He couldn’t help it, because fuck those little sounds were delicious. Deeper. Deeper. Slow and careful. He followed the sensation of Arthur’s body around him, and the little sounds he made, easing back when he tensed and pressing in when he relaxed, till…

Fuck, the feeling of Arthur surrounding him so tight and complete was exquisite.Arthur.

Arthur was shaking; a quivering that started in his thighs and belly and shuddered out through the rest of his body. “John—?” His voice was so small. Barely more than a breath of sound.  

It sank into John like hooks, pulling him as tight against Arthur’s being as he could get. Oh fuck, Arthur, I could just keep you like this. You feel so good. You feel beautiful.

Arthur managed a scoff, but it didn’t distract him. “I feel… This is…” Experimentally, he moved his hips just a little. John felt every nuance of the delicate muscles in his pelvis flexing. Arthur whimpered and John could hardly blame him. His voice fell to a whisper. “Are you going to…”

John waited a moment to find out what. Let you go? he took a guess when Arthur didn’t continue. What if I didn’t? What if I kept you like this?

Every moment, Arthur’s body seemed to be changing. Softening, as tension unwound from him one strand at a time. As he incrementally accepted John inside him like this.

“You can’t keep me like this, John.” Pedantic and anxious, that tone, as though he thought John didn’t know. “We have to—”

For a while, John cut in. Just a little while. Relax, Arthur. Relax and let yourself find out what your body is capable of. John wanted to know. If he kept Arthur like this long enough for the last of that tension to fade, what ecstasies could he be capable of? What could John make him feel?

Hesitation again, in that trembling, overtaxed body. And then…John could have shouted with joy as it faded like mist and Arthur’s body accepted him fully. 

“For a little while,” Arthur murmured.

John crooned to him in a wordless sound of pleasure.