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Chakra
Written as a backup story for the 100 Ways challenge
Chakra
Muladhara
JC kneels on the bed between Justin's spread legs, pale thighs roped with long muscle. He reaches with a steady finger, soft and careful, and strokes Justin gently, on the tender, nerve-filled patch of skin below his cock and above his ass.
"Easy," he whispers, not even whispers, mouthing the word, and the rise and fall of Justin's chest stays slow and rhythmic, even as the coltish muscle tenses and quivers under JC's touch.
JC watches as Justin's mouth slowly drops open, his jaw relaxing as the rest of him fights to stay relaxed under JC's methodical touch, and the white of Justin's inner thighs begins to flush, the rose-red colored hue of arousal, and Justin comes.
Svadhishthana
JC alternates hands, first the left, then the right. He wraps one around the base of Justin's cock and squeezes gently, sliding the curve of his palm up the shaft and lifting it off entirely, then repeats with the other hand, keeping Justin locked in a steady cycle.
"Easy," he whispers, just the ghost of breath passing through his lips, and the word is carried on an easy exhalation that perfectly matches the intake of air that Justin draws in.
JC watches as Justin's cock swells, grows velvet-hard under JC's ministrations, firming under the light solidity of the contact, the blood in the veins pulsing and flowing, vibrant orange beneath the skin, and Justin comes.
Manapura
JC leans forward, the palms of his hands flat on the bed on either side of Justin's abdomen. His tongue flicks out, licking his lips unconsciously, then lowers to trace around the circle of Justin's navel, drawing a wet line, tasting the salt and the sun on his skin before lightly dipping into the concave shell.
"Easy," he whispers, his lips brushing against Justin's navel like a blessing, and he imagines he can hear the graceful, steady flow of oxygen move from the air into Justin's mouth, down his throat and into his lungs.
JC watches as Justin's stomach trembles, his face so close that his eyelashes flutter against the taut surface, lined with the sun's kiss of golden-yellow, and he mimics the sun, and Justin comes.
Anahata
JC places his hand flat against Justin's chest. His fingers are spread wide, spanning the valley between smooth rises of rib and muscle, his palm cradled in the center of the movement of Justin's breath. Justin's nipples are pinked, and if JC stretched his hand a little more, he would be able to feel them harden under his touch.
"Easy," he whispers, feeling Justin's heart beat under the tips of his fingers, feels his own pulse settle in an answering rhythm, like the deep, steady talk of drums in the desert.
JC watches as Justin's body seems to expand and glow under the intensity of JC's regard, as if the pressure of JC's hand is transmuted by the blue-green sweep of his eyes into a warm, encompassing caress, and Justin comes.
Vishuddha
JC slides his hand around Justin's throat, tenderly encircling it with the span of light fingers, and strokes his thumb along the soft sides of Justin's neck. He bends his head and presses his lips in the space left between thumb and forefinger, his curls brush against the underside of Justin's tipped-up chin, and he can feel the slight tremble of Justin's jaw.
"Easy," he whispers, his mouth barely moving, Justin's slow, shuddering breath rippling through his throat against his control, and JC breathes with him, at him, to slow him, to calm him, to excite him.
JC watches as Justin's neck throbs with the pulse of his cock, the thrumming of blood singing through his veins, and he traces the thin, spidery threads of violet with the tip of his fingernail, and Justin comes.
Ajna
JC dances his fingers over Justin's forehead, feathering across his eyebrows, over his temples, and when he leans down, he doesn't kiss the places he's touched. Instead, he turns his head, smoothing his cheek over the soft planes of Justin's forehead, just barely inhaling the scent of Justin's hair, clean, crisp, young, and Justin doesn’t make a sound, but he's moaning all the same.
"Easy," he whispers, sensing Justin's need rising in him like a tidal wave, carrying him in a freefall that surrounds him completely, the struggle for air not a struggle at all, but an acceptance of the peace that will come with surrender.
JC watches as Justin's eyelids flutter open and closed, the flashes of color revealed briefly, then hidden, arousal so intense that it lightens baby blue to almost white, and Justin comes.
Sahasrara
JC moves his hands through Justin's hair, short curls not tangling at all, but gliding between his fingers like lamb's wool. He rubs gently, a circular motion, at the very crown of Justin's head, then spiraling out, fingers searching, threading, patient and steady, until the whole heavy weight of Justin's head is cradled in JC's palms, balanced in his hands like a fragile song, and the sigh Justin releases tells JC everything.
"Easy," he whispers. "You're doing so good. Just breathe with me . . . breathe . . . in . . . and out . . . oh, so good . . . yes . . . oh, yes . . . " and he acknowledges for the first time that he's hard and he's ready, and he wants to be inside Justin, inside the peaceful energy that he can almost see, pure white light from the top of his head to his bare feet, his arms, his cock, his hips, his chest, his legs, his face.
JC watches himself move, watches himself move along the length of Justin's body, watches himself ease a finger into Justin's body, not all at once, just a slow, steady inch, and then he crooks his finger, beckoning inside, massaging, breathing steady, breathing with Justin, they're together, they're one, and Justin comes, with a bright rush of white, arching easily off the bed, and JC comes, with a bright rush of white, with his hand on Justin's thigh, and they come together, and it's just right now, and it lasts.
Forever.
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