O P E N P O S T .

[solosection]

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[solosection]

[ But do you enjoy this, Elio wants to ask, desperately, desperately, as the other man puts his wine glass down and leans in, burying his fingers in Elio's curls, more or less speaking against his lips, letting him feel the soft movements of his mouth, forming words, telling him he does a lot of things he doesn't enjoy. But this, Elio wants to ask, staring into Jean Louis' face, half-shadow, lots of skin, darker than Elio's own, bronze-like, Mediterranean. Friends, he said, in Sicily. Family in other places? Do you enjoy this?

He doesn't even know why it matters, why it's so important, why he would die to be enjoyed by Jean Louis Surname Redacted, Elio will have to look him up. Luxembourg's cabinet of ministers isn't on the tip of his tongue. Though, obviously, one of its ministers is.

Why does he need to look him up? Why's he so important? Like he said himself, people aren't, generally. Not to Elio either. Maybe especially not to Elio.

Oh.

The other man angles his face so their noses aren't in the way, dragging the tip of his tongue over Elio's bottom lip and Elio feels himself shuddering, actually trembling, goosebumps rising and his cock growing very hard very fast in his pants. He's physically seventeen again, pretty much. Mentally, he's running in circles like always and emotionally... emotionally...

Oh.

Parting his lips just enough to catch Jean Louis' tongue between them, he pushes down over the length of it, giving him the slight sensation of penetration, of sinking into, slipping his own tongue along the length of it. Then, after a brief moment, he breaks away, though only far enough to stick out his own tongue, teasing the tip of it over first the curve of the other man's bottom lip, the slight jut of his upper one, breathing hard and heavy against his mouth. ]

[nowheretowns]

[ Elio parts his lips and takes his tongue in, just sort of sinking down over it which is really quite impressive and it makes his cock harden in response, a quick spark of heat spreading quickly in his lower body. With a groan, he takes Elio's mouth for a long, outdrawn moment before the other man pulls back a little, just enough to slip the tip of his tongue against Jean Louis' lips in turn. He allows it for a couple of seconds before he quirks an eyebrow, licks a fat strip over Elio's tongue and goes right past it, into his mouth once more, mostly because he wasn't quite done and Elio might as well get it on emphasis here - when Jean Louis wants something, he pretty much just takes it.

Within reason, naturally, when it comes to people and the nature of sexual transactions.

But all the same.

He pulls back after another second and parts his lips, now, their breaths mingling, heavy and heated. He clears his throat to speak, to offer some type of explanation, because for one reason or another, he feels as if he ought to and there it is again, that peculiar inclination to give the other man... what? What does it mean to other people, being shown some small measure of carefulness? He's aware that it means something, obviously, because people will act accordingly and that, in his job, can be a clear advantage.

It doesn't matter.

Or rather, it matters, but not right now. ]

It's not that you can't. [ That he can't ask to be let in, that he can't demand. ] It's that you have to keep doing it.

[ There's a handful of implications to his words that he won't be bothered to analyse or dig out any further than this. It's just that he's very well aware of how people tend to react with him; inevitably, if they stay too long, they feel dejected or attacked or out-maneuvered which is honestly how it's been since he learned to speak and it usually doesn't bother him much, usually he doesn't go for seconds or thirds or fourths, usually he just takes what he's offered and leaves the rest to others.

People have never flourished around him. Yes, he's well aware.

But Elio, he thinks, already does. ]

[solosection]

[ He's allowed for a sliver of time, a second, then Jean Louis takes his mouth right back, sinking into him, filling him out and Elio's losing his breath to it, to him. He runs both hands over the other man's shoulders, balancing himself against him rather than the couch and for some reason it feels easier, stronger, like more familiar ground than anything the rest of the world can offer. Elio exhales harshly when Jean Louis draws back, for that same reason, almost whimpering after him, but contains himself, because he's learned to do that by now, not grab crotches and cling to because he himself can't stand increasing distances. He's a grownup now. He's grown up.

He doesn't know what he is with Jean Louis, though. He doesn't know that yet.

It's that you have to keep doing it, Jean Louis tells him, then, in response to his playful tongue and his demanding things for himself. Elio just looks at him wordlessly for a long time, blinking slowly, watching him, his prominent nose and his strong features, his soft lips, his five o'clock shadow, little, rough hairs like sandpaper.

Rug burn risk.

Maybe Elio does have friends in dangerous places, too.

Finally, he just shakes his head, not to say no, not to say he won't, that he's going to stop, but to wave away the implicit doubt, will you, it means when Jean Louis says that, and please do. It's like that for some people, Elio included, they can't be sure that the ones they started out on their journey with are going to stay beside them the whole way. Who knows why. Who cares, really, when the only outcome you know is goodbye. Elio never truly got it either, with Oliver, with any of his former partners, lovers, old friends not friends anymore and just because he doesn't hold a grudge doesn't mean he couldn't have, that there's no reason to. Goodbyes erode, it's the body you've given away and won't get back. You're the currency.

He's the currency.

He wants to pay the other man back.

So Elio shakes his head and leans in again, teasing his tongue tip over Jean Louis' bottom lip, catching it gently between his front teeth and tugging at it once, hard, just to let him feel it. Just to let him feel that he's here and he wants and he gives and he won't stop, because Elio hasn't stopped for fifteen years and that's the priceless joke.

How he holds on, haha, what a joke!

Releasing the other man, he slips both hands, flat palms, down over his back, shoulder blades, spine. Muscle and bone. ]

Okay, but don't get sick of me just yet. I want to suck you off.

[nowheretowns]

[ Elio shakes his head multiple times and it doesn't mean no in any way that makes sense because seconds later, he dives back into the kiss, catching Jean Louis' bottom lip with his teeth and giving it a hard tug that goes straight to his cock, already fully hard. He exhales harshly at the feel of it, eyes falling shut as Elio runs both hands down his back and shoulder blades. Sensitive places, places with history. He likes it, the idea of re-tracing - he's already done it once, with ink, but Elio does something that feels oddly more permanent and he should really be worried about the implications, about how these things differ from his usual status quo.

Don't get sick of me just yet says Elio because he knows, too, that this is different. Otherwise, they'd both agree to get sick of each other as fast as fucking possible. It's how this unspoken contract goes, with regards to one-night-stands and falling together between the shadows for as long as it takes to hit some surface or another once again. But don't says Elio and Jean Louis, spine tingling and hairs actually standing on end along his shoulders and arms, doesn't.

Instead, he chuckles and pulls away, not harshly, running one hand down Elio's upper arm. He gets to his feet, then, eyeing the decanter for all of two seconds before deciding to let Ezio's wine oxidate right here on his table, it'll be useless in the morning and then, he can pour it down the drain. Done.

Shifting a little, his trousers visibly tenting, he nods towards the bedroom. ]

I've had - [ He glances at his watch, uncaringly. ] - 27 hours at work and only one change of clothes. Make yourself comfortable and I'll be right out.

[ Pause. He points down the opposite end of the apartment space, towards a door by the end left half-ajar. ]

Guest facilities, if you'd like your privacy.

[ Implying, I don't care either way because he doesn't and that's frankly alarming. Face expressionless, he turns away and heads towards the bedroom and the bathroom, undoing his tie as he walks with brisk, sharp movements. He leaves Elio behind, then, to do as he pleases and within Jean Louis' personal spaces, that's probably - certainly - another first. ]