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“Look at you, taking me so well...”
The praise is enough to make Elliott’s already trembling arms give out, and he lets himself drop, the sheets rubbing against his beard as he gasps.
He’s already come twice. They’d slipped into the shower with him earlier and took him in hand whilst they murmured all sorts of things in his ear to make him blush, and when they’d gotten him into the bedroom they’d blown him against the door before he’d even had a chance to suggest the bed.
Which really, he’s glad for. Means that he gets to enjoy every drawn out moment of them fucking him now, and they are most certainly drawing it out, he’s been close again several times but whenever he starts to reach that precipice they’ve slowed down. In fact, he’s not actually sure how long they’ve been fucking him but that hardly matters anymore.
Hound is good to him, in every aspect. They are kind and patient and attentive, in and out of the bedroom, and Elliott has found that it is wonderful and refreshing to be with someone who does not impose any kind of expectations on him, of what he should be and what he should do. Previous partners have always wanted a specific version of him, but Hound had taken it as a challenge to become so versed in who Elliott was, not just the parts Elliott wanted them to see, but all of it - all of him.
And of course, they always fuck him so good. Elliott will never complain about topping, especially not with Hound, but being like this now: on his knees for them, back arched, devolving into nothing but a needy whimpering mess, it feels incredible.
He feels their hand travel purposefully down his back, towards his neck and finally sliding into his hair, pulling just hard enough to send a shiver through him, and for him to lift his head.
“Don’t muffle yourself Ella, you have such a lovely voice, I want to hear it.”
The noise that comes out of him is pathetic to say the least, though by the way Bloth inhales sharply and drives further into him, it’s what they wanted to hear. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, they’ve forbidden him from reaching for himself, want him to come untouched, but all he can think about is what a mess he must be making of the sheets; he’s sweating, leaking pre-come and there’s lube that’s dripped down his thighs. God, he must look absolutely debauched, the mental image making him whine.
He can’t lift himself back up though, and though he knows Hound wants to hear him he just slips back down, limbs not paying attention to him, too floaty and detached. But Hound’s thrusts slow, and he hears their voice distantly, tinged with concern. All in all he’s quite surprised when he feels them pull out and finds himself being rolled over, his back up against the pillows and headboard.
“Are you with me beloved?”
They kneel between his legs, sitting back on their heels. Their hand rests on his thigh, and Elliott follows the point of contact with his eyes, all the way up their arm until he sees their face and notes the fond expression there, amidst the flustered red cheeks. Fuck, he is so in love with them.
“Elliott,” They try again, slightly amused, “give me a colour.”
“Green.” He breathes, voice pleasantly wrecked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah... Yeah. Very green.”
They chuckle, moving their hand from its stationary position to lightly drag their nails over his thigh, just teasingly out of reach of his cock. More pre-come slips out, and Elliott groans as his whole body shivers from their touch. If they’re not going to touch them he needs them to be inside him again, needs them to fill him and fuck him until he doesn’t remember his own name anymore, and so he reaches out towards them, but ever the tease Hound leans away from him.
“Hound-”
“You want more, hm?”
“Yes.” He breathes, not once looking away from their eyes.
“Would you beg for it?”
Elliott swallows, a wave of arousal washing through him at Hound’s tone, and without really thinking he spreads his legs a little wider, though Hound responds to this by letting their nails dig in just a little more.
“Please,” he says urgently, “fuck me, make me feel it. I want to come on your cock, I want it so bad Houndie, I need you-”
He is cut off by them rushing forward with a near growl, claiming his mouth with their own. And now that they’re in his space he can hold them, grab at them, slide his fingers into their curls whilst they are busy biting at his mouth and caressing his tongue with theirs. Hound can make him beg, get him on his knees, they know how to push and press and make him fall apart at the seams with pleasure, but Elliott too knows what makes them tick. Anytime he gets their control to slip like this, by a coy look or phrase, when they cannot help but kiss him as though they wish to consume him, it makes Elliott’s blood burn - it makes him feel alive.
They shift their focus to his neck soon enough, sucking possessive bruises into the skin there. Fuck, he’s going to have to deal with sly looks from Renee the next time he sees her, Hound knows exactly where his scarf falls, knows just where to bite so that it’s visible above the fabric. And Elliott will bitch about the marks and pretend that he doesn’t love them - that when he’s alone at the Lounge, hiding in the storage rooms, he doesn’t press his fingers to the bruises and get half hard from the ghosts of Hound’s teeth.
“You do not know what you do to me…” Hound groans, going back to nip at his mouth one last time before they pull away. “Stay on your back, I want to see your face.”
Truthfully they could ask anything of him right now and he’d do it, even if they asked him to kneel for hours and wait for their touch, he’d do it. Although they are decidedly done with waiting, getting off the bed to stand beside it before man-handling Elliott and bringing him to the edge of the bed. Any display of their strength makes him absolutely weak in the knees and the groan that falls from his mouth is born of habit, only further aided when they grab his legs to hook them over their shoulders.
Briefly, when they start adding more lube to the strap, Elliott laments that he is not the one doing it, knowing full well how much they like it when he jerks them off or takes them in his mouth, but there’s very little time to rue over it as he feels their fingers press inside him, and he can’t help but clench around them and gasp.
“That’s it,” Hound coos at him, “such a pretty boy…”
“Houndie-”
“Shh, I know, I’ll give it to you, it’s what you need isn’t it?”
They stroke his inner walls expertly, and Elliott nearly sobs when he feels them press against his prostate, his hands gripping desperately at their bedsheets.
“Please…” He begs, voice shaky, and it is mercifully enough. Hound wastes no time, removing their fingers then swiftly burying themself in him in one fluid motion. Elliott hardly has the chance to adjust to the feeling of fullness before they’re fucking into him with vigour, picking up where they left off previously.
“You fit me so well elskan,” Hound says breathlessly, “as though you were made for me.”
It’s not true, obviously, it’s laughable really, but the thought of being made especially for them tears the most needy noise from his throat, and he watches as Hound grins and kisses at the calf hooked over their shoulder, knowing full well the effect their words have on him.
He lifts his hips up to meet their thrusts and there’s no more room for words now, not when that tide starts to rise in him again. Having been brought to the edge so many times it feels different now, like sunlight washing over him, comforting and warm. It is perfect, as he is reduced to nothing but pleasure, aware only of Hound and their touch that consumes him inside and out.
They will let him come this time, he is sure of it. They grip his legs fiercely, and Elliott clenches desperately around their strap, around them, watches them with a hooded gaze as sweat drips down Hound’s temples, watches as they get a glint in their eye and start picking up the pace.
“Yes my love,” they whisper, “that’s it, come now, come for me, let me see you…”
Despite all his previous noise, when he comes he does so almost silently; biting down on his lip and arching his back whilst his cock pulses and coats his chest in his own release. His muscles tense up all at once, and there’s a brief moment where dizziness blinds him and he worries he’s about to pass out. But the dizziness passes, his muscles very slowly untense, and he lets each wave wash over him until at long last his body seems to settle, and he returns to his senses.
When the dark spots finally clear from his vision he can see Hound watching him with a mix of fondness and hunger. Elliott barely gets the chance to smile back before they’re descending on him to put their mouth on his chest, letting their tongue trail over where he's come all over himself. They’re still inside him and their movements cause him to gasp on account of the whole thing being both incredibly hot, and also far too soon to have him experience any kind of stimulation, but they are quick with their work and stand up straight again whilst he’s whining their name.
“You are perfect.” They say fondly as they gently unhook his legs from their shoulders and finally pull out of him. Elliott can’t help the little gasp as they do so, both the sensations and the praise going to his head. He’s hardly going to be getting it up again anytime soon, but they are not done here yet. At least, he hopes they’re not.
“Hound, baby, c’mere.”
Sitting up takes a lot of energy, but Elliott is nothing if not determined, and once he’s upright - sitting on the edge of the bed with them standing between his legs - he’s already helping to undo the fastenings around their hips, looking up at them with eager eyes.
“Did you finish?”
“No,” They say, looking down at him with a smile and sliding a hand into his hair to comb through it, “but this was about you my love.”
“So then ride my face.”
“I- Elliott-”
“Please… Please, this is what I want. Let me taste you like you tasted me.”
Begging works so well on them, Elliott thinks to himself with immense satisfaction, as they let out a small growl and tug on his hair so that they can lean down and kiss him fervently. No one has ever wanted him as deeply as Hound does, and Elliott submits so willingly to their desire, lets them bite at his lips and stroke their tongue against his, pull at his hair whilst he pulls their body closer, wraps his arms around them.
“I am not going to last long…” They murmur against his mouth, red and swollen from their affections.
“Don’t care, just need you.”
Their mouth curls at the edges in a smile and they kiss him once more before they step away to finish taking off their harness, during which Elliott manoeuvers himself onto the bed so that he’s laid back against the pillows. Excitement thrums under his skin, making him jittery, he drums his fingers against the sheets as he admires them, the muscled thighs and strong back. They’re fucking gorgeous, something he tries to tell them constantly but it flusters them, and they do not let him say such things for long, usually kissing him to shut him up.
He does not get long to admire them, they are more than adept at removing their harness in minimal time, and soon they are straddling his head, up on their knees and hovering tantalisingly above his mouth.
“You are definitely sure you want this Ella?”
“More than anything.”
“Mmm, sweet boy...”
They lower down slowly, and fucking hell they are soaked. It’s hardly a surprise, more often than not they’re able to come just through fucking him, which Elliott is simply fascinated by, but regardless; feeling how wet they are with his tongue is a heady experience.
Hound lets out a long sigh when Elliott starts flicking his tongue across them, one hand reaching out to the headboard above him to steady themself. Elliott grabs onto their thighs so that he can pull them even closer, and he does so as he dips inside of them.
“Oh fuck, Elliott…” They moan, and their free hand slides into his hair once again. Holding him in place they start to grind their hips forward and yes, this is exactly what he wanted, his dick twitches slightly as they take their pleasure from him, still too sensitive to get hard again but very invested in Hound’s grunts and whines as they fuck his face.
“Þú ert svo góður við mig…”
They tug slightly on his hair whilst they grind against his tongue, and Elliott happily lets them. He doesn’t let his hands stay idle, running over the scarred skin of their thighs and worshipping it all. It is worth it for the way they tug harder at his hair and babble in their native tongue.
But too soon they are growing quieter the way they do when they’re close, hips moving faster, and Elliott hums against their clit as their body finally seizes and they come. And they are breathtaking when they do, Elliott doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight so mesmerising (except perhaps when they do a close range kill in the arena with their axe, but perhaps that says more about him than anything else).
It takes them a while to release the tight grip on his hair, but once they do they are quick to move off of him, helping him sit upright so they can kiss him one more time and taste themself on his tongue.
“Respirator?” Elliott asks once they pull away to gasp, and they nod at him. He leans over to grab it from their bedside table and they kiss him sweetly one last time before they hook it on, taking in several deep breaths, all the while opening their arms for Elliott to fall into - and he does.
“So…” Elliott starts, after several minutes of companionable silence. “You really do have a thing for my hair, huh?”
The respirator covers half their face so if they’re blushing he can’t see it, but going by the way they freeze every so slightly, he feels pretty confident he’s hit the nail on the head.
“That is ridiculous,” they murmur, “I do not have ‘a thing’ for your hair. It is nice, that is all.”
“Uh huh, sure, whatever you say babe.”
He beams at them whilst they huff and roll their eyes, but he kisses along the side of their mask so they know he only jests. Really they ought to both get up and shower (again, he thinks), but he is far too lethargic to even attempt to move out of their arms, and judging by the way they lean against him Hound is in a similar state. Fuck it, the shower can wait.
“Thank you…” He ends up murmuring, whilst he nuzzles against them. Admittedly he doesn’t really think before saying it, so when Hound raises an eyebrow and cups his face to see if he’s alright he realises how ridiculous it sounds. “I mean, y’know for all this. It’s…”
What can he say? For seeing him the way no one else does, for caring about his desires and indulging them? For loving him? He can’t say that, that would be borderline pathetic.
But he doesn’t have to say it. Because once again, Hound sees him. And they understand.
“I love you,” they say quietly, “you have my heart. You let me see you, and you see me in return and that is a gift I will cherish for as long as you’ll have me.”
“I’d have you forever, if you’d let me.”
Elliott can see their smile through the way their eyes crinkle.
“Then forever it is.”