by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人)
illustrated by beili
Eris Manzana started to unravel around the edges as soon as she hit the door to her house. I watched, fascinated, as the wig came off, then the falsies. I trailed after her and helped with zippers, seeing Harper start to emerge out of the sequins.
“It’s like a reverse magical girl transformation,” I laughed as he tackled his makeup. He had laid out an arsenal of bottles and makeup wipes before he’d ever left the house, the arrangement meticulous. The way he went about destroying it, not so much.
“Fuck me, if only it were that easy to get into all of that.” He laughed and struck a pose. “Magical drag powers activate!” He spun around, grinning like a fool as he faced the mirror once again.
“It would be extremely useful.” I nodded as I slid into the narrow space behind him, going up on tiptoe to hook my chin over his shoulder and wrap my hands around his waist, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “And then I can get a mask and a tux and we can go fight villains together as queer superheroes.”
“I don’t know. What if I break a nail?”
“I don’t think magical girls break nails,” I said as I dropped a kiss against his shoulder. After, I sat back on the edge of the tub to watch him wash the last of the Eris from his skin. This was not a quick process. Idly, I reached for his makeup kit and rummaged through it, admiring the selection. Somehow, the Lady Danger red lipstick did not surprise me, nor the Ruby Woo. The Sweet and Sour? Maybe a little.
It took him a while, but not that much of one, to notice. When he did, one of his eyebrows arched ever so primly into a question. “Are you fondling my lipstick?”
“Maybe a little. I kind of miss it, you know?”
“You…wore makeup?” Two perfect arches. “This seems like the kind of thing you should have told me at some point in our friendship, Lore.” He sniffed in mock disapproval. “I mean, it’s not like I do it professionally or anything.”
“I still do wear it, actually. In private. It’s been a while I’ve had anyone to do it with,” I said with a slightly sheepish, slightly cheeky grin.
Harper hummed, lips pursed into a thin line.
“I look too pretty to wear it in public, I’d cause riots.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I went on: “Mostly because people would misgender me and I would want to throw stuff at their heads.”
Harper’s mouth tightened, but he still stared at me with that confused little cock of his head. It was almost cute as I watched him, knowing full well what was running through his mind. At least, I could only assume he was trying to picture me in makeup. All of a sudden, he flushed and then I joined him.
“You should let me do your makeup sometime,” he offered at last. “If you’re comfortable sharing that, I mean.” He turned back to his bottles and wipes.
I thought about it as I admired the lines of his back. When I’d touched down in Michigan for the first time a year ago, he’d been the first person I’d really clicked with on campus. We’d both been standing awkwardly on the sides of a LGBTQ graduate student organization’s party, trying to figure out what the hell we were doing there when I noticed the black hanky hanging from the belt loop on his left hip. I had been the first person to notice he was flagging, or at least the only person to point it out. Three hours later, the party long abandoned, we were back at my apartment and I was showing him my new braided leather cat o’nine and we were trading tips on aftercare.
There wasn’t much I hadn’t shared with him after that night, including several very cute and willing boys. We were good friends like that. Good friends who tied up boys and flogged them before Harper fucked them senseless.
“Yes,” I swallowed, the word seeming to stick in my throat as the few things I hadn’t shared with him tumbled into my brain, makeup adventures and that thing with the pro dom. I was thankful he wasn’t looking at me, or the deer-in-the-headlights look I was currently sporting would have made him ask questions I wasn’t sure I could answer. “Now?” I tried, once I had taken a few deep breaths to center myself.
“Yeah, now works.” Harper spun around and grinned at me and swept his bottles to the side of the counter, their order downgrading from “kinda messy” to “complete wreck”. “I mean, it’s only four AM, who doesn’t want to look great before they go to bed?”
“I know, right?” I held out the lipstick in my hand to him and tilted my head up. I took another deep breath and he cocked his head to the side. Might as well go all out. “Make me look fuckable?” The words kind of blended together in a rush.
“What?” he asked, his face approaching emoticon levels of incredulity.
“Just as a guideline,” I said, trying my best to look innocent. He side-eyed me as he took the lipstick from my hand and dug around his makeup kit for a lighter shade of foundation that he used in his own faceups. The process seemed to be distracting him from his shock and for that I was thankful.
It wouldn’t say that I was surprised to be sharing this part of myself with him. It was bound to happen sooner or later. More, the timing got me. This. Now. Now being 4:19 AM. But instead of focusing on the time, I watched as Harper laid out brushes and colors
“What,” I began with a slick sort of hesitance I had to swallow. “What would you do if I told you to make it so my eye makeup would run?” Well, there went my comfort zone; I didn’t need it anyway.
Harper almost dropped the bottle of foundation in his hand. Not for all the Urban Decay in the world could I have hidden my smile as I watched his thoughts play across his features, confusion colliding with desire as, I hoped, his cock started to take interest in my words.
After a moment he looked down at me with slow smile. “I’d ask why you wanted makeup designed to make you look debauched after being fucked, knowing full well that’s one of my favorite kinks?”
It was then or never. “…Because I’d like you to top the shit out of me and I miss looking femme right now?”
Make it a good thing that he wasn’t currently putting mascara on me; I might have lost an eye. He knew I’d subbed before. I’d mentioned it in passing after a few shots here or there. Encouraged by the sudden heat in his gaze, I gave him time to answer.
Harper tilted my head and started to apply the foundation before he spoke. “What are your limits? Safeword?” he asked, his voice easy as he blended the liquid over my jaw.
“Same as when I’m in charge. We’ve done enough scenes with each other you should know what I’m comfortable with. It doesn’t change when I sub. Red. Yellow,” I told him, eyes closed as his fingers darted across my eyelids before faltering to a stop.
“You’re an extremely aggressive top. Or, let’s face it Loren, a sadistic fuck.”
“I rather know that.” I snickered and opened my eyes to look at him. “And you are too.” Harper didn’t take his eyes off me. As I licked my lips, he groaned.
“Fucking?” he asked, his voice hot.
“Oral or anal only.”
“Close your eyes.” Harper gave me an order, not a request. With a deep breath I closed my eyes, head still tilted up to him. Soft brushes ghosted over my eyelids as he worked his magic, applying powders with quick precision. His fingers were firm against my jaw as he tilted and moved my head how he wanted. I was all but trembling by the time he traced a thick line against my lashes. A light hand tapped against my cheek. “Open.”
I blinked my eyes clear and Harper laid on the mascara with a heavy hand. We were silent as he used his thumb to part my lips, tracing them with the Ruby Woo I’d been rolling between my fingers. He didn’t bother with lipliner. Sticky gloss topped everything off and he slid a finger into my mouth. I closed around it, sucking instinctively.
“Do you know how to stop lipstick from getting all over your teeth, Lore?” he asked. I shook my head, never taking my lips from him.
“Purse your lips,” he told me, before he slid his finger from my mouth with an obscene little pop. The red stained his skin and I swallowed hard, thinking of that color against his cock.
After that, Harper held out a mirror, showing me his work. I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked sinful: fuck-me red lips, long eyelashes, and eyeliner winged sharp enough to cut.
“Fucking hell, Loren.” Harper echoed my own thoughts. He looked uncertain as he reached to cup my cheek. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, fingers over his pulse point. “I need you to tell me you want this. Because I want to see you choking on my cock, and that’s not something we should just do. I need to know that we’re thinking with our brains and not our dicks.” I glanced down. His cock had gone hard in his pyjama pants. My fingers itched to touch, stroke him through the worn flannel.
“Harper.” My voice was raw. “There isn’t anyone I trust more than you to do this with me. To take me to the place I want to go and still look at me and see me when it’s over.”
He stared for a long moment, almost long enough to be uncomfortable, needing more reassurance than I was offering. So I took his hand and kissed his fingertips. “I crave to be on my knees sometimes, Harper. I tend to push it aside. It’s just I work so hard to be taken seriously as a dom that I don’t want to risk people making assumptions when they see me sub.”
Harper batted my hand away from his wrist, as if my touch distracted him. “Thank you,” he told me as he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my lips. I leaned toward him, but he pulled away. “You say you can take it as hard as you dish out?”
My mouth went dry. I nodded, gave my assent some time to sink in. Then, I reached out to give into my desire to touch his dick, stroking him with a light touch. Even through the fabric he felt amazing.
“Enough,” he said on the tail end of a gasp. “Use your words, Lore,” he taunted. “Can you take it hard?” His hand fisted in my hair at the nape of my neck and he twisted my head up so we were eye to eye.
“Y-yes.” My voice cracked and hissed. I watched as his body language shifting: back straight and shoulders squared as he stepped into his topspace. All this as his confidence rushed in. My brain started to go fuzzy as he kept his hand tight in my hair.
“Then get on your fucking hands and knees.” His hand jerked me down. I went in an ungraceful tangle of limbs to the floor. There was a moment of panic as I fought it, my desire welling up with fear in my throat.
Before I could get lost in that sensation, Harper’s voice cracked in an order: “Bedroom. Now.” I knew how Harper played well enough not to get up. Biting back my pride I started to crawl. I knew full well that Harper’s eyes were on my ass, watching how it swayed as I moved. My body went hot and when I knelt in the bedroom, I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He seized me by the hair again and he pulled me up, making me scramble to get my feet underneath my body.
“Stop thinking. Strip.”
My hands were tugging my shirt over my head before I realized. I tossed it aside and shimmied out of my binder, letting it fall. I’d seen Harper naked many times, watching him transform into Eris, but he’d never seen me. His gaze was unnerving.
“Don’t make me wait,” he chided, but a silken sort of patience carried in his voice. That moment of understanding gave me the confidence I needed to push my pants and boxers off, standing naked for him. For his appraisal. His eyes raked over my body and I raised my hands behind my head, lacing my fingers together as I stood to attention. The need to please was seeping into my consciousness. I wanted to display for him; a flush crept down my chest.
“Oh, good boy,” he purred, condescending in all the right ways. He wielded that tone as well as any paddle or crop. I flinched, a rush of shame and arousal filling me. I wanted more. Harper stepped into my space, fingers tracing a curve down to my nipple, making me twitch. “Do you like that, Loren?” He lowered his head so his lips were brushing over my ear. “Do you like the idea of being a good boy for me?”
“Yes, Harper.” I swayed closer in anticipation. He pinched my nipples between warm fingers and I rocked up on my toes. The pain washed over my body and I focused on it, letting it push any lingering doubts out of my mind. Harper twisted and I cried out, head lolling back.
“I’m going to make you beg.” His voice was deep and his hands insistent against my skin, fingers digging and kneading. My brain chased after the sensation, letting it overwhelm with sharp, bruising pressure; I was acutely aware of my body, arousal already slick between my thighs.
“Yes, please.” I tilted my head toward him and watched him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in his own desire. I wanted to reach for him, to take him back in my hand and touch. I clutched my hands tighter behind my head and let him be the one on control. Drawing in a shaking breath, I gave over to him, relaxing under the harsh press of his fingers. The pain centered me.
“Thank you,” he whispered as he watched me, hands stilling against my chest. I let out a needy whimper in response and pushed against his touch until he gripped hard once more. I had almost forgotten how much I loved this pain, these flashes of white-hot heat shooting through my skin. Through half-lidded eyes I watched his lips curl into a smile. “I’m going to make you beg,” he repeated, “and I’m going to push you down onto your knees and choke you with my cock.”
The noise that came out of my mouth was somewhere between a moan and a strangled cry. His hands left my chest and one fisted into my hair as he dragged my head back. I wasn’t expecting the slap that seared across my cheek. My hands dropped as I reeled. Harper held me tight where he wanted me.
“Get back how you were. Who said you could move?” he snapped. And Harper didn’t give me enough time to think as his hand came fast against the other side of my face. My world spun.
I was shaken. I felt myself all but throbbing in reaction. Seeking some kind of relief, I rubbed against Harper’s leg. He laughed as he pushed me away. I mewed in frustration. I didn’t have long to pout before he hauled me over the bed and kicked my legs open.
“Look at me,” he said as he ran his hands up my thighs. It was all I could do to meet his gaze as his fingers found my cock. He took me between his fingers and stroked until I bucked my hips up off the bed. “You’re so fucking wet already.” He grinned maliciously, tongue in the corner of his mouth. “That worked up by the idea of choking on me? Or is it just the pain?”
I couldn’t answer. His fingers kept stroking. My brain plunged off in the deep end as he touched me, pushed farther by the vulnerability of being on my back and splayed out. I felt his teeth sink into my hip, another flare of pain.
“Yes!” I forced the word past my lips, answering both questions at once. I kept rocking against his touch, feeling the orgasm build and my thighs start to shake. Harper pulled his fingers away before I hit my climax. I groaned, screwed up inside and aching.
His lips pressed against my throat, his body holding me down. It was a vivid contrast to the pain still echoing in my skin. “Should I let you come because you’re being such a good boy, then?”
I twitched, both from the tone he was using and the light touch. Whimpering, I spread my legs wider, trying to answer with my body, but Harper didn’t touch me and I had to find my voice again. “Let me come, fuck, Harper, sir–” I begged.
“I think it’s a bit too soon to give you that,” he said, pulling away from my throat, but his hand dropped back down between my legs, fingers coming away soaked. Harper held them to my lips. “Lick, but don’t you dare mess up that pretty makeup, boy.”
I circled his fingers with my tongue, quick and eager to taste myself on his hand, careful not to smear the color. I wanted little more in that moment than to close my lips around his fingers and fuck my own mouth with them. I had forgotten just how much of a slut I was for cock when I was on my knees–or in this case, on my back. After a long while but still not nearly enough, Harper pulled his fingers away. I followed after them.
“No, bad,” he said, stepping away so I couldn’t reach. As he stared down at me, laid out for him, I realized how obscene I must have looked. When I squirmed then, it wasn’t out of nervous energy, but pleasure. Even where I lay, I had a perfect view of Harper; his erection was obvious.
My attention didn’t go unnoticed. Harper hooked his fingers into his waistband, slowly lowering it, showing me what I wanted so badly. My desire crashed inside my head and shook my body. I had forgotten how beautiful it was to just let go. My submission, my loss of control, and even the shame that sometimes welled in my chest was it’s own kind of power: over myself and with Harper.
“But I want to be good.” I locked my eyes to Harper’s. “I want your cock, Harper, please give it to me. At least touch me,” I begged.
He moved back between my legs, cock nudging against my own. “Maybe like this?” he asked, his voice a soft breath of air. The head of his dick circled the smaller, significantly more sensitive skin of my own. I bordered on a flinch. When I tried to close my legs, Harper gripped tightly at my thighs, forcing my knees up and opening me wide for him.
I couldn’t answer him, not that he was expecting anything like that as I rocked upward. Please, more, fuck, let me, god, Harper, all jumbled together to make a incomprehensible incantation of need. I jerked as my eyes met his again.
“Go on.” He gripped my thighs harder as he looked down at me. “Go on, boy, come for me.” I shuddered violently at his words and with a few more thrusts, I arched off the bed, crying out his name with my orgasm.
It left me lying on the bed as he stepped away from me. The sudden loss of contact made me whine. Through blurry eyes, I realized his cock wasn’t just wet from contract, but also from his own pre-cum. I didn’t even think to ask before I was on the floor, on my knees, tongue darting out along his slit. I shuddered as the taste hit my tongue. Harper’s hand rested heavily on my neck as I took him into my mouth, lips wrapped tight around the head of his cock.
God, this. This was perfect. I wasn’t sure why I ever denied myself this pleasure.
“You’re such a fucking pretty little cocksucker.” Harper’s voice sounded so far away, but his hand pressed hard against the back of my head, pulling me closer. I whimpered around him as he spoke and I tasted myself, salty and strong. It was enough to make me shudder and swallow, his cockhead pressing against the back of my throat.
I pulled back; ruby color dragged across the darker skin of Harper’s dick. I groaned, looking up at him through mascara-clotted lashes. He stared back down, head of his cock resting against my tongue. It was like time stood still. Then, forcing my head forward, he thrust into my mouth, into my throat. I choked and spasmed around him, tight and hot and gasping, before he pulled back.
My eyes watered, but Harper didn’t give me much of a break. Over and again he forced his cock into my mouth and throat until I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t remember how to take air in through my nose. My hands landed on his thighs, digging into his skin with a bruising force as I struggled and gagged for him. Tears tracked freely down my face, my eyes stinging as the mascara ran. Every time his dick moved back forward over my tongue I gasped in for air and tried to be better. I sucked and licked the best I could, but there was no art to my movements.
Harper took. And took. I let him. I loved it. I pressed a hand between my legs, frantically rubbing over my cock. I was as good as dripping, wet against my thighs as he jerked me forward and forced me to hold him in my throat until I couldn’t take it. As he pulled back I coughed and wiped my free hand across my mouth. It came away slick with spit, stained red, traces of black from the makeup tracked down over my cheeks. I was a mess, Harper was looking down at me like he wanted to devour me. I opened my mouth, whimpering for more.
“That’s it. Good god, Lore,” Harper panted as he stroked himself just shy of my open mouth. The desire for him to come over my face hit me and I closed my eyes, almost shamed by my need. “Open your fucking eyes and look back up at me.” The rawness of Harper’s voice was beautiful. I forced myself to obey him, writhing under his attention.
“Please.” My voice sounded sharp and loud in my own ears, and it took a while for me to realize that I had spoken. “Harper, come, please,” I begged. He let out a choked sound as he jerked himself faster. I couldn’t keep my eyes on his face and I focused on that long, beautiful cock. My lips had left shocking streaks of red along his head and shaft. It was magnificent
I stroked myself harder, fingers almost cruel against my own skin. I closed my eyes through the pain. The first spill of his come against my tongue and lips felt so filthy and so perfect. A cry escaped my mouth and the overload of lust and shame swirling in my head pushed me to orgasm again. Trembling hands hit the rough carpet of the floor as the last of Harper’s come seared across my face.
We both fought to catch our breaths. I have no idea how long we stayed like that, me on my hands and knees at his feet, before Harper finally leaned down and guided me up. Strong arms held me steady as he moved me to the bed. His thumb traced over my cheek and pressed to my mouth. I parted my lips and sucked it clean, shuddering at the bitter taste.
Yet I sat still and let him feed it to me. I let the waves of lingering pain and sensation wash over my body.
“Beautiful boy,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss me, headless of the mess and taste as his tongue sought mine. I clutched weakly at his shoulders and tangled our legs. “You should see yourself, Lore.” Reverent fingers stroked along my jaw and against my swollen mouth. “Lines across your face, lipstick smeared.”
Affection bloomed in my chest at his words, encompassing and safe. I tugged Harper down onto the bed with me, laying him across my body. “Thank you,” I rasped. I felt sated, depraved, and perfect. And altogether too tired to move. Not even for a bottle of water or a makeup-removing wipe. The clock on Harper’s bedside table told me it was sometime after five.
“You’re welcome,” he said; his laugh trailed off into a yawn and he shifted alongside of me. “Any time you need that, Lore, you know where to find me.” His words were getting heavier as he pulled the blankets up around us. “You, me, and Ruby Woo can play anytime.”
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for a deleted scene and authors notes, see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.