Silent Night

Characters: Malachi, Phinn
Origin: Breaking Point, Club Confession (WIP)
Advent Day: Day 3 (November 29th)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,788
Warning: Breathplay


Phinn bit the inside of his cheek for what must have been the thousandth time that night. He'd almost chewed himself raw already, but orders were orders, and he never took Malachi's orders lightly. He'd only had minimum notice the night before, and he'd done all he could at least calling his relatives to wish them a Merry Christmas and warn them he'd be hard to get a hold of the next day. That didn't mean that Christmas Eve had been a walk in the park for him, though.

First had been breakfast, which he'd baked for Malachi. Keeping his mouth shut as Malachi licked cream cheese icing from his cock had been difficult to say the least. Next had been the torture of listening to holiday tunes and being unable to hum along as he wrapped the last of Malachi's gifts. Sure, Malachi hadn't been there to police him, and even if he had disobeyed, it would have been severely out of tune, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that for the entire day, he hadn't been allowed to speak a word, to make a sound. Dancing with Malachi at Confession's holiday bash had been a trial, the walk home afterward with his cock achingly hard in his leather pants had been a challenge, and now that Malachi was starting to peel away his clothing back at their apartment, he was inwardly cursing himself for ever agreeing to the extreme task.

All he wanted to do was moan, to beg Malachi to take the order back so he could make up for the day's silence by screaming as they fucked, and then settle down with cups of hot chocolate to enjoy the old, classic Christmas movies on television. But, that didn't seem to be Malachi's plan. No, Malachi had him naked, pressed to the wall that separated their small kitchen from their cozy living room. Malachi's mouth was hot and wet against his throat, and Phinn leaned in to bite hard at Malachi's dark brown skin, trying to hold back the whimper that built in his throat.

Malachi only laughed, low and rumbling near his ear. "Did you want to say something?"

Phinn glared up at Malachi. Yes! Yes, he wanted to say something. He wanted to scream and beg and whimper as they fucked on the floor. All he could do was give Malachi a nasty look while inwardly trembling with want as he took in the sight of Malachi's strong features, his teeth so white in his darkly colored face.

"Tsk," Malachi said, combing his fingers through Phinn's messy blond hair. "Here I thought you would be eager for a new game. Something difficult."

But he was! Phinn loved the game as much as he hated it, and that's what finally made him look away from Malachi's face. It was a silent passing of control, offering his submission in that small gesture.

Malachi hummed and kissed along the line of his neck. God, it felt so good, but he couldn't whimper, couldn't do anything but let out a shaky breath and lean into the touch of those lush lips. "You want to be pushed, don't you?" Phinn licked his lips and nodded. "You want to please me tonight, right?" More than anything! Another nod didn't seem to be enough to communicate how badly he wanted to please Malachi, so he trailed his hand down Malachi's abs and cupped his cock, choking back a moan when he felt how damn hard Malachi already was.

He was whipped around so fast it was dizzying, and by the time he regained his bearings, he was on the floor in front of their Christmas tree, Malachi straddling him and pinning his arms down to the rug. He wanted to ask what the fuck was going on, but the thrill of being dominated kept him silent and eager. The smirk that unfurled on Malachi's face made his cock twitch.

"It's an hour until midnight, Phinn. One hour until Christmas. If you can keep your silence for the next hour, you have my permission to scream as you come, but only after midnight. Is that clear?"

Phinn swallowed thickly, and then nodded. He could keep quiet. He could. Somehow.

"One hour." Malachi grinned. "One hour for me to push you."

Oh, Malachi was going to take a particularly twisted enjoyment in his torment, Phinn just knew it. That gleam in Malachi's eyes made Phinn squirm just a little, and he wanted to arch his hips and moan. Instead, he just ran his hands down Malachi's chest and stomach, grasping Malachi's cock and giving it a firm squeeze. He grinned up at his lover, certain he could outlast Malachi's wicked streak and come out on top, screaming his pleasure at midnight.

Malachi moaned and chuckled, his smile so bright lit up by the blinking lights of the tree. "Then, let's begin."

Malachi's tone made those words so foreboding, but Phinn refused to be discouraged. Even when Malachi bent over and kissed him hard and deep, he knew he could do this. It was going to be intense and arousing and—Malachi suddenly pinched his nose shut. With how Malachi sealed their lips together, he couldn't breathe. He knew it had to be intentional, but Malachi caught him off guard. He wasn't allowed to do that! He stared up in shock, his hand tightening around Malachi until Malachi moaned and pulled back from his mouth so he could gasp in fresh, pine-and-cinnamon scented air. He started to form words, but his panting made the 'wh' inaudible. Even so, Malachi pushed two fingers against his lips.

"Ah, ah, ah," Malachi laughed. "Not until midnight."

An hour. All he had to do was last an hour. Just one hour.

Malachi's hand stroked down his throat, over his shoulders, and Phinn couldn't look away from the strong, long fingers. He loved the difference in their skin tones. Malachi was so beautifully dark, and he was as white as white could be. That broad hand moved lower, and when Malachi wrapped those elegant fingers around his straining cock, it took every ounce of restraint Phinn had to keep the moan trapped behind his lips.

"So hard. You've been hard since the third dance at the club." Malachi stroked him from root to tip with the perfect amount of pressure. "Rubbing against me, giving me all those hungry looks, and yet not saying a single word."

Phinn squirmed, hips arching. He wanted to say how hard it had been, how hard it still was. He bit into his lip yet again. It was so good, even if it was hard, and the way Malachi pulled at his cock... God, help him, midnight was never going to come!

Malachi sat back on his legs, immobilizing them with the firm weight, and the grin on that gorgeous face was positively evil as he began using both hands on his cock, pumping and squeezing and pulling at him in all sorts of delicious ways. He gasped and bowed and gripped at the rug with both hands, but Malachi knew just how to touch him, how to work him up. He was at the very edge, ready to plummet into that abyss of pleasure, when Malachi's touch disappeared completely. He stared, gulping in breathes and all but biting a hole into his lip in an effort to keep every sound back.

"So fucking sexy, the way you squirm for me." Malachi rubbed his thumb against the slit of his cock, keeping him on that edge so effortlessly that he was glad for a moment to be utterly breathless. It was only when he tried to buck again that the touch was denied him, and he wanted to protest, wanted to demand that Malachi let him come, but the words just wouldn't come. He couldn't let them.

What he could do was glare up at Malachi, but that just made his lover laugh and climb off him. He didn't dare move without direction, but Malachi didn't give him any until he was kneeling just above Phinn's head. "Open wide."

Had Malachi's cock ever been so large? So hard? Phinn licked his lips and shuddered, obediently opening his mouth and extending his tongue until Malachi pushed that dark cock between his lips.

It was easy to just give himself up to sucking Malachi. Well, he didn't do all that much sucking. That wasn't what Malachi seemed to be after. Over and over, Malachi slid his cock completely into Phinn's mouth and throat, ensuring Phinn's nose brush his pelvis repeatedly. It was a slow, deep fuck of his mouth, and Phinn reveled in it. There was nothing like giving Malachi head, and Phinn had spent the first year of their relationship ensuring he could do every little trick, every single technique that Malachi could demand of him.

What had Phinn gripping at Malachi's thighs, though, was how each inward thrust remained buried in his throat longer and longer. It frightened him, being unable to breathe, but at the same time, damn, it made his cock far too hard. They hadn't done much breathplay, but Phinn had been dropping hints lately that he wanted to really give it a go. It seemed Malachi had been listening, and when Malachi's cock filled his throat once more, it stayed there. Malachi stroked his hair, groaned loudly, but he didn't pull back.

Fear was a cold companion to the heat of his arousal, and even though he knew he didn't really have anything to be afraid of, he couldn't help that visceral reaction to being unable to breathe. His hands tightened on Malachi's thighs, and he tried to calm the pounding of his heart, the way it sent messages through his body, adrenaline flowing freely in something much more delicious than panic. His lungs began to ache, and his arms and legs began to tremble. It was just when he began to see stars on the edges of his vision that Malachi pulled back, and he gasped and sputtered around his lover's cock, squirming and almost biting down in an effort to choke back his moans while sucking in breath after breath of precious air.

Malachi didn't relent for long, and he found his throat filled once again. A pattern developed, and he had no clue how Malachi knew when his vision began to blur each time, but only then was he allowed a few breaths before being taken by Malachi's thick cock again. He lost track of time, his world contracting down to the simple rhythm of breathlessness that Malachi pushed him into. The only mark of time he understood was the cadence of Malachi's moans, the occasional pinch of Malachi's fingers to his nipples, the evil caresses to his ticklish ribs. When Malachi shifted, turned, and took his cock between lush lips and suckled, he nearly choked around Malachi's cock, bucking and clawing at Malachi's thighs. It was a damn good thing his throat was full, else he would never have been able to keep from screaming.

Phinn thought Malachi was going to just keep fucking his mouth, but after another bout of teasing him, bringing him right to the fucking edge—so close his damn balls hurt—Malachi pulled back again. Malachi was panting, his cock wet and a deep shade of brown, and Phinn's chest just heaved as he drew in deep, rasping breaths. Phinn wanted the cock back in him, and he didn't care how. He reached up and began to stroke Malachi, loving the deep, rumbling groan it pulled from his lover, and craned his neck so he could lick and suck at Malachi's balls.

"Oh, fuck, Phinn," Malachi moaned. "You still want my cock, don't you, boy?"

God, he loved when Malachi called him 'boy'. He'd have tolerated it from no one else, but when Malachi said it, it was a loving, sweet endearment, not something lowly and degrading. He nodded, but wouldn't let go of Malachi's balls.

"Gotta let go if you want it," Malachi said with a breathless chuckle. "Can't fuck your lily ass if you're sucking my balls."

Phinn shuddered and gave one last, strong suck, pulling back with an audible pop. He panted as Malachi shifted above him again, and when Malachi shoved his legs open wide and up to an angle that left him exposed, he nearly lost control and moaned. But he couldn't. Not yet.

Malachi's long fingers pushed inside him, spreading lube and pushing against his prostate hard enough to make his back bow from the pleasure. God, he wanted relief! He wanted to curse Malachi and hate him for demanding his silence, but his cock was so hard, and the head of Malachi's cock was nudging him, and he just couldn't bring himself to break the rules!

Malachi wasn't gentle, but Phinn loved the way he slammed forward, taking his ass in a single, rough thrust that made him bite his own wrist to keep silent. Malachi's groan was loud enough for the both of them, and when he finally managed to pull his wrist away and look down, he was greeted with the sight of Malachi's thick, black cock withdrawing slowly from his flushed, pale body. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut. God help him, he shouldn't have looked! It was too fucking sexy, too much for his mind to handle as he panted roughly and tried to thrust and take Malachi deep again.

"Only eleven forty-five," Malachi growled. "Fifteen more minutes. Gonna fuck you so hard, make those fifteen minutes count."

Phinn closed his eyes and prayed he could outlast Malachi. He wanted to come. He wanted it so damn badly. Malachi began to really fuck him, hard and fast and deep. It took all Phinn had not to writhe and scream. And Malachi's hand... goddamn, that hand, squeezing and pulling at him just how he liked. It wasn't long before he was gasping, trembling, right on that razor's edge of release, and then that hand pulled away. Phinn opened his mouth to cry out, protest, but the gleaming darkness of Malachi's eyes silenced him.

He closed his eyes and let his head thump back on the carpet. Malachi's hips snapped forward over and over, and Phinn balanced right there, yanked back from the sweet oblivion of climax more times than he could count. When he thought he was going to whimper, tears of want trickling down his temples, Malachi's long fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezed a little, the pressure growing slowly as Malachi's cock slammed into him. In moments, his breath was stolen from him again, his pulse pounding in his ears as he stared up at Malachi, utterly submissive, taking everything his lover gave.

His pulse thundered in his ears, and he tried to stay calm, but it was an impossible task. The higher his pleasure spiked, the tighter Malachi's hand became on his throat, and the motes of light that danced on the edges of his vision invaded the center, slowly stealing his sight away. All he could see was Malachi's face, those dark eyes boring into him, and when the hand suddenly left his throat, he exhaled in a rush and heaved in a deep breath. White noise filled his ears, but Malachi's voice cut through the haze like a hot knife through butter.

"Scream for me, Phinn. Midnight's here. Come on my fucking cock!"

The words rang in his ears, and he followed Malachi's orders without a second thought. With Malachi's cock still pounding into him, and his head dizzy from so little oxygen, all he could do was buck and scream as he came, his fluids spattering from his abdomen all the way up to his throat.

Malachi's ragged grunt above him was followed by that wonderful sense of wetness inside him. Malachi was the only second man he'd ever let come in him, and Phinn was sure Malachi would be the last. This was all he wanted, needed. As his head slowly cleared, his whole body shivered with relief. He blinked slowly several times, and then Malachi was leaning over him. Phinn couldn't keep the drunken, happy smile off his face. "Merry Christmas," he croaked out.

"Merry Christmas," Malachi rumbled, and then they were kissing.

Malachi laid soft, gentle claim to Phinn's mouth, making Phinn's toes curl. Phinn moaned, glad that he could make sounds again. Malachi rolled his hips, and pleasure tingled through Phinn. So good. It was all so damn good, so far from where he'd started five years earlier. This was heaven. Malachi's arms. Malachi's dominance. Malachi's heart.

If they kissed all damn night, right into morning, Phinn would be fine with that.

All works contained here are copyrighted to S.L. Armstrong. No reproduction or usage is permitted without written, express consent by the author.