O P E N P O S T .

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[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. ]