Short fiction: Anticipation (Vision/Hanz NC-17)


Vision closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Janus immediately stopped talking. It wasn’t that Vision had stopped listening. The moon had set an hour ago, taking with it the extra bit of strength Vision had already gotten used to with it.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Janus said, and stood up. Hanz did as well, and as they were just among friends, he let Hanz make his excuses. Hanz saw Janus to the door, while Vision went upstairs to his room. The rest of the house was already locked down, but he felt Hanz still go from door to door, window to window. When the house was secure, and secure to Hanz’s standards, Hanz came back upstairs.

Vision had only sat down on the bed. Hanz remained in the doorway. Vision didn’t move. “You didn’t undress,” Hanz said, voice low. It could have been a statement, or a recrimination, but it was just a question. Hanz let it hang in the air, and Vision, even from the bed, felt studied.

He could have told Hanz he was too tired, or that he hadn’t felt like it, and Hanz would shrug and go to his side of the bed. Vision could have shrugged, which would have had him face down in the soft carpet in just a few seconds. Instead, he looked up at Hanz, curious. If Hanz wanted to be creative, he was ready, willing and able. “Did you want me to?” Vision asked, finally.

Hanz stared at him. Vision stared back.

“Yes, Vision. I wanted you to,” Hanz said. His voice was soft, like a caress of silk against bare skin. Vision felt the familiar, wonderful tightness in his belly.

Vision stood up. “You should have said something.”

Hanz only raised an eyebrow. Vision swallowed, needlessly, and looked down. Being on his knees was all fun and games, but this bit here, with Hanz looking at him, eyeing him, if he were to use a better word for it, was better. The touch of his shirt, regardless of how soft the silk had felt when he had put it on felt rough, like old cardboard. He wanted it off, but didn’t move. Hanz stepped into the room.

“Or you should have anticipated what I had wanted,” Hanz said, voice still low.

“Silly me,” Vision said, keeping his voice light. The words sounded strangled. Hanz smiled, which always turned his somewhat bland features into something beautiful. It was just for Vision, and if he hadn’t been hard already, that alone would have done it for him.

“Indeed,” Hanz said. “Maybe we should work on your anticipation skills.”

Vision swallowed. “That sounds…interesting.” He looked up. Hanz was still staring at him, arms crossed, anticipation obvious, and Vision reached up and unbuttoned his shirt.

“See, Vision? You’re improving already.”

Vision bit his tongue rather than snarl something. Now wasn’t the time. He let the shirt slide off his shoulders. The sleeves caught over his wrists for a second and then it pooled to the floor. He kicked off his shoes, his socks, then his slacks, everything until he was naked, but the inscrutable look to Hanz’s face didn’t change. Vision tightened his mouth, but dropped to his knees in the middle of his clothes. Hanz still didn’t move. Vision bit down hard enough to taste his own warm, sweet blood before crossing his wrists behind his back. He took a needless, shuddering breath, and was still.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, sir?” Hanz asked, his voice nothing but pleasant. Vision snarled, because that was, more or less, a direct question, and snarling, more or less, was an answer to it, but Hanz only laughed. Vision’s fangs came out, piercing the skin of his lips, bringing him more taste of blood, and he suddenly wanted more than anything, something to bite down on, that would fight back while he drank.

Hanz brushed the back of his hand to Vision’s lips. “Is that really what you want?” he asked. He slid his finger between Vision’s dry lips and stroked the length of Vision’s right fang. He deliberately punctured his finger on it, and held it out with a fat drop of blood welling out on the end of it.

Vision looked up at him, asking for permission when every ounce of strength he had was ordering him to attack. Hanz touched his cheek with his unbloodied hand. “Just with your tongue,” he said. “No teeth, do you understand?”

Vision nodded, and Hanz slapped him, lightly, across the face. Vision growled, so deep inside his chest that he felt his body rumble with it, but Hanz only looked down at him until Vision looked down. He had to. If he kept looking up into Hanz’s eyes he knew he would have come right there. When he had control of himself again, and could trust his body not to give in to the rolling ball of pleasure inside him, he looked up again. “I understand.”

“Good. Go ahead, sir.”

The blood drop hadn’t fallen yet; Vision supposed it hadn’t taken that long to regain control. The first drop, the one that had been waiting on the tip of Hanz’s finger and exposed to the air was cold, but the next was still body temperature. As was the next and the next, but the more his tongue worried the wound, the more his saliva encouraged it to close. Vision didn’t have to look up to know Hanz was anticipating the first nip of fang to skin, so he sat back on his heels, sullenly.

“Very good,” Hanz said.

“Whatever,” Vision snarled.

Hanz tsked, but left him alone in the centre of the room. Vision growled again, dissatisfied, but then his ears pricked up when he heard the closet door open and close. “You can get up now,” Hanz said, now cold. “I’ll fuck you and we’ll both go to sleep, if that’s what you want.”

Vision shook his head, but didn’t look up. Hanz pushed his shoulder with something metal and cold so that he was now his face was in the carpet, still on his knees, with his hands still clasped behind his back. Hanz hadn’t taken the silver cane out in a year, and the begging sound Vision wanted to make couldn’t seem to clear his throat. He shifted, moving his hips, but there was nothing to provide the friction he desperately craved.

“I’m confused, sir. You indicated to me that was what you wanted. I’m only here to give you exactly what you want, so you can see where my misinterpretation may come from.”

Hanz kept him pinned down by the shoulder, and the silver head warmed quickly to Vision’s skin temperature. He pushed down harder, rolling it in his hand so that the cane seemed to bite his skin. This time the begging sound came out just fine, but the pressure and the oh-so-good pain didn’t stop. “What was that, Vision?”

Vision never apologized. It wasn’t his place, and Hanz knew it. He’d never asked for it before. “Nothing,” Vision said. And when the pressure didn’t stop, not that Vision particularly wanted it to, he opened his mouth again. “I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Hanz said, and moved away again, if only to gather up the silk ties and lash Vision’s hands together. “Thank you, sir.”

Being so tied, Vision could relax. Hanz let him, circling where he was, then nudged his knees further apart with the cane that still had traces of Vision’s body heat in it. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Hanz asked.

Vision moved his hips again, but the hot need to come had cooled, leaving him desperate rather than relieved. “Hanz, please. I need you to fuck me,” he said.

Hanz slid the silver head up Vision’s thigh. As exposed as Vision was, it was easy for the cane to fine the sensitive spot behind Vision’s balls, and when Hanz applied the first bit of delicate pressure there, Vision jerked forward, it was too much to bear but not enough to come with, which really wasn’t fair, and his hands fought the silk tie that kept him from moving. Under anyone else, Vision could have ripped his way free, but Hanz had tied it, and thanks to his magic it meant Vision wasn’t going anywhere until Hanz decided to let him go.

“Is that really what you want?” Hanz asked. “You were mistaken before.”

“Please,” Vision gasped, not caring how red his face must have been or if the tears in his eyes were from pain or just the overwhelming need in his body. The freedom he had to be here, on his knees in front of Hanz like this, ready and willing — or mostly willing, he corrected himself — to whatever Hanz wanted from him and not have it cost him anything outside the bedroom was phenomenal. “Hanz, please. I need you.”

“Then you know I think you can wait just that little bit more,” Hanz whispered. “Do you trust me?”

Of course Vision did. He tried to relax, to concentrate on the passive bloodflow throughout his system rather than the continual pressure the cane put externally on his prostate. He tried not to follow the spiraling pleasure down too far when Hanz knelt down behind him. He sucked in his breath out of age old habit when Hanz put his free hand, the one not holding the cane on the small of his back. Hanz licked him, from the base of his balls up over her perineum to his ass. Vision whimpered, unable to stop himself, but found he couldn’t even beg any more. Hanz pushed his tongue into him, working the muscles enough to relax, and only the slight shift from just enough pressure to just a little bit too much pressure on the cane kept him from coming right then. He shifted, pushing back into the pain, but Hanz anticipated it, keeping it just that tiny bit too much when Vision wanted much more pain. It kept him on the razor’s edge of orgasm, and Hanz knew him well enough to keep him balanced there.

A single finger slipped inside him, in addition to the tongue still sliding in and out of him. Hanz found the prostate the cane was pressing against, and a second later pushed two fingers inside. With the pressure coming from in and outside of him, Hanz’s treacherous tongue still working the rim of muscles, Vision thought something was going to have to give before his brain exploded. And when Hanz let go of the cane, replacing it with just his fingers so that point of pain was gone, Vision couldn’t help himself. He came, thrashing in his bonds. Hanz straightened, but kept both hands exactly where they were, working his prostate to prolong every sensation so that it felt like Vision was coming forever.

When the last aftershock in his system died down to just a warm, fading memory, Hanz untied Vision’s hands. “Was that so bad?” Hanz asked.

Vision didn’t answer. He tested his hands, rubbing his wrists together to restore some of the circulation, and then stiffly got off his knees. Hanz remained on his knees, looking up to him, and for a second Vision saw actual fear in his eyes, like this time he may have possibly gone too far. Though he was the one unsteady on his feet, Vision offered his hand down to help Hanz stand, and Hanz took it, gratefully. “Sir?” he asked, this time even more hesitant.

The problem with having sex in the middle of the room was that it took so damn long to back someone up so that their back was to the wall. After a prolonged time, Hanz’s shoulders struck a bare bit of wall, and only then did Vision kiss him. Hanz was still fully dressed, but hard, and Vision pinned him back to the wall with his arm across Hanz’s chest while he undid Hanz’s slacks singlehandedly. He met Hanz’s eyes, now free of worry and jerked him off. The weight of Hanz’s cock felt so good against the palm of Vision’s hand.

And it was good, every once and a while, to see desperation on Hanz’s face for a change. Hanz bit his lip, arching his back, but he didn’t look away. Vision watched Hanz tense, then slowly relax as he came in Vision’s hand. Vision kissed him again, gently, and for once Hanz dropped his clothes of piece by piece as they made their way back to the bed.

“No,” Vision said, as Hanz turned off the light. “That wasn’t bad at all.”


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