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solosection) wrote2021-09-28 11:21 pm
solosection) wrote2021-09-28 11:21 pmO P E N P O S T .
solosection) wrote2021-09-28 11:21 pm
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Elio is but it doesn't stop him.
Jean Louis likes that about him quite a lot. ]
Ah, yes. That's another way.
[ He smiles against Elio's skin before catching one of his nipples between his lips, sucking it inside and pressing his tongue against it, again and again, feeling it stiffen fully in his mouth. He tastes like salt and skin, primarily, along with a touch of something else that he recognises even after a full year's absence. It speaks volumes as to how the other man's taken a place within him, a place that resonates with memory and new experience. It makes his cock feel painfully hard and his chest tighten even worse, a mix of two very opposing inclinations. Take, it means, and hide, but he'd never do the latter, not in this life.
With a groan, he leans over and licks Elio's other nipple into hardness, enjoying the feel of his palm between his shoulders, the steady weight of it. After a moment, he draws back, his hand still resting against Elio's stomach, and looks up at him. It's a quick glance, just taking his features in, his eyes. Always his eyes.
Then, he turns and slips his leg over his torso, elegantly - he hasn't spent more than a decade in the local dojo just to carry himself badly - coming to a rest with his knees on either side of him, his arse pretty much in his face and Elio's cock utterly at eye-level. He breathes out roughly through his teeth. Grabs a condom with one hand and spits in his other, folding it around Elio's cock and stroking it slowly from root to glans and back down. He's hot to the touch, his little export-Italian.
Hot and teeth-watering. ]
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He loves them.
Cock aching at this point, his nipples hard and glistening, Jean Louis suddenly shifts around, swinging his leg surprisingly elegantly over Elio's torso and ending up with a knee on either side of his head. Like that, Elio pretty much has his ass in his face and he has to remind himself that protection is important, that he can't just dive in, rim his asshole or suck his balls inside his mouth, play with his testicles with his tongue. His cock jerks as Jean Louis spits in his hand and strokes it, saliva sticking to his palm, making the movement smooth and slick. Warm, wet, oh. He whimpers, writhes a little more, impatiently while feeling for the other condom on the mattress, finally finding it and tearing the wrapper, taking it out. Thigh muscles tightening, trembling, Elio mutters a please don't move too much, places the condom between his lips and shifts about for a moment, grabbing the other man's cock by the base gently, angling it outwards before leaning in and dragging the latex down over the length of it with his lips, taking him in as far as he can, his gag reflex objecting only minimally and covering the last inch with his hand as he draws back slowly, feeling the huge girth of the other man's cock blocking out his mouth, throat, filling him, he's being filled. Although Elio has been with a lot of men, although he has given a lot of blowjobs, it always feels new. It always feels a little strange and unknown.
He wants to go on that journey with Jean Louis, the Foreign Minister, unfamiliar territory should be familiar to him, right?
Popping his cock out, Elio keeps his hold around the base of it. Tilting his head aside, he licks a fat trail over the bared head beneath the rubber, a hard, insistent lick before he closes his lips over him again. Jean Louis needs to feel him. Elio wants him to.
Even. ]
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Eyes widening, Jean Louis has to actively focus not to turn his grip around the base of Elio's cock into an actual crushing squeeze, the muscles in his buttocks and thighs tightening almost painfully. Elio puts it on with his mouth and presumably, an artist who performs solo to hoards and hoards of critical people must have a drive towards perfection but this is borderline absurd. He holds still, though, letting the other man swallow his cock down into his fucking throat, oh, tight, so - fuck. And then, he pulls back, the warm wetness of his mouth coming through even with the condom wrapped around his length. The slide is magnificent and Jean Louis struggles not to simply thrust back down, very much aware that Elio's the giver and the giver comes with both preferences and, more importantly in this case, teeth.
So he stays. Still. Breathes heavily through his parted lips as Elio licks the head of his cock through the condom, the pressure of his tongue, his lips, making his vision blacken a little along the edges. Blinking, he finally gets on with it - tears the condom open, angles Elio's cock upwards and slides it down, slowly, keeping his hand curled around his cock the entire way from head to root. He digs his fingers in a little along the underside, trying to catch the sensitive spots there. ]
Dangerous, aren't you.
[ His voice is decidedly rough. Shifting to give Elio all the space and access he needs to give him back that warm, tight hole of his to fuck, Jean Louis holds his cock in one, firm grip and parts his lips, pressing the head into his mouth and sucking on it. He makes it a strong sensation. Outdrawn.
There, it means. Come along and share it. ]
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Dangerous, aren’t you, Jean Louis said. ]
No, you.
[ He says it while drawing back a little, staring at the slick length of Jean Louis’ cock, the swell of the head beneath the rubber and before bending his neck, letting the curve of the glans slide over his tongue that’s sticking out, ready, ready, taking the other man in halfway, the head pressing against the very back of his mouth. Elio groans around his mouthful, knowing how vibrations work, that’s how sound’s made, after all, letting his tongue press up against the underside for contrast, soft muscle, wet, warm. Although the condom tastes like latex, there’s still the heavy smell of Jean Louis’ body in his nostrils and faint, teasing traces of his taste, too. It’s smooth, like the wine. Intoxicating. Elio has been enjoying these things since he was eleven, wine and the proximity of other men. That’s Italian export for you.
His hips strain against Jean Louis’s hold on his cock, the hard sucking is making him feel overheated and antsy, like it’s almost too much. Like the other man is swallowing him up. Yes, Elio knows who’s really dangerous here. ]
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Go ahead, he thinks and pulls back a few inches before sinking down a little further, releasing one of Elio's thighs to curl his hand around the base and the part of the shaft that he can't quite swallow. At this angle, at least, deep-throating would be immensely awkward. He also doesn't quite prefer it. Not in general and not now. With a deep groan, he finally focuses on his own hips, on the wetness around his length. Then, he starts thrusting, slowly, carefully, shallow thrusts to begin with as he tries out Elio's mouth, listens for signs of discontent - such as, well, choking, for the most part.
For every second or third thrust of his hips - and fuck, that's nice, the friction of back and forth, yes, fantastic - he pushes a little deeper, the head of his cock nudging against the back of Elio's throat, dipping inside just slightly. He keeps his own mouth working mostly along the same rhythm because he's not a musician, is he, he'll have to keep things simple.
So long as it works for the both of them - that sense of transaction again, the notion of passing something very equal and mutually beneficial back and forth - then surely, the details are only details. ]
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Moaning, low in his throat, he feels the other man urge his pelvis upwards, take a bit more, go a bit further in and Elio takes the cue, willingly, canting his hips up slightly, claiming more space, taking a bit of Jean Louis' mouth for himself. This is mine, I can have this, it means. Give it to me. The feeling of slide, of being engulfed completely by the other man's hand, by his tongue and the wet, slick warmth of his mouth is enough to make Elio's balls draw up a little and he huffs out a breath through his nose, angling himself better and taking the other man's initiative in both ends, pushing up around the shaft, taking him down his throat completely. Blocked out that way, they're like the symbol of infinity and there's something so incredibly beautiful about that that Elio feels tears in his eyes, and not just because his throat feels completely full, almost painfully so. He stays like that, nose pretty much squashed against the other man's ballsack, for a little while, as long as he can hold his breath before drawing back, harshly, spit flying everywhere and his lips swollen, his lungs burning. Elio loves it. He feels himself. Just as much as he feels Jean Louis.
Circular. Connect. When did he last feel connected to something outside himself? So much that he felt it inside? When did he - Oh, he knows. He knows. Elio mirrors Jean Louis, thrusts up into his mouth slowly, evenly, taking more of that wetness, the heat. Himself, he closes his lips just beneath the head of the other man's cock and laps at the head through the condom, tightening his lips into a snuck little hole.
Take me, it means. ]
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When Elio draws back, he pulls forward a little in response, just to give him enough space. He keeps his own mouth busy - people will say that this is, in fact, his main talent - and listens to the tell-tale sounds of Elio drawing in air, his breathing ragged, wet and sloppy. His throat is bound to get raw from this. Jean Louis groans around Elio's cock, takes it in at a regular, even pace, following the thrusts of the other man's hips. When Elio takes his cock again, lips closed around the sensitive head and sending sparks soaring from the tip, into his crotch and balls, he finally just goes with it, takes Elio's offered hand without wondering whether it might in reality just be a finger or two - right now, like this, he... trusts what he thinks he knows. What he thinks Elio might know, in turn.
He can't think about that.
So instead, he pushes down and in, sinking into Elio's throat again all the way to the base, letting him swallow and swallow and swallow in response. He pulls halfway out, enough to let the other man breathe for a moment, before he pushes right back down. The sensation of tightness, of wetness, combined with Elio's cock filling out his own mouth, his scent heavy in his nostrils even with the rubber obscuring it, sends him hurtling towards the edge.
One push down Elio's throat, two, three - and there. Flight.
Even whilst coming, he doesn't stop working the other man's cock with his own mouth, the orgasm raging through him more like an afterthought, that familiar, huge wave of sensory impressions that he generally doesn't care to get caught up in. It is what it is. But there's a sense of relief, all the same. Of forcible relaxation.
Makes it a little easier, maybe, for Elio's cock to push in past the back of his mouth, slipping into his throat by just the tip. Easier, yes. So, he lets it. ]
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As well as in the circle of Elio’s throat, apparently.
Jean Louis moans and makes Elio’s toes curl with the vibrations of it around his cock head, before pushing forward with his hips, forcing himself back down Elio’s throat, taking up space and claiming territory and filling what used to be empty and the tears are spilling now, running down Elio’s cheeks as the other man proceeds to fuck his mouth, his throat two-three times before Elio feels his balls drawing up tightly to his body and his cock is pulsing and Elio is the catalyst. He is the one to start it. Again.
Meanwhile, Jean Louis is letting him fuck his mouth in turn, deeper and deeper until Elio’s cock is just bypassing the narrow opening to his throat, too and the sheer excitement of that, of being allowed that close, along with the smell of sex and the other man’s climax in his nostrils, the feeling of him on his tongue as Elio draws back slowly, sore, is enough to push him over the edge. He pops Jean Louis’s cock out of his mouth, wet noise, obscene, and whimpers, hips trembling and his cock pulsing in the narrow confinement of mouth cavity, upper throat, Adam’s apple working, he can see it so clearly, even without seeing anything but crotch and the light from the fish tank... They’re both working. He keeps softly whining until it’s over, this wave of an orgasm, then falls quiet, goes still.
He’s breathing raggedly. Wetly. His cheeks feel sticky. Slowly he reaches up and rolls off the condom, tying it up blindly and dropping it on the floor. He can smell Jean Louis all the more clearly like this.
Lastly, he lifts one hand and dries off his cheeks. Tear-streaked. ]
no subject
He'd be hard-pressed to call out a loser.
Elio's making the most interesting sounds as he comes, whimpering like he's hurting, like he's being torn apart a little at the seams and Jean Louis sucks him for as long as he makes that sound, like he's trying to suck it out of him, all of it, the sheer vulnerability of it. Then, achingly slowly, he shifts and draws away, popping Elio's cock out of his mouth. His own feels cold and a bit sticky with the condom gone. He shudders, muscles trembling subtly from exertion, as he pulls the condom off Elio's cock in turn, ties it up, throws it into the shadows.
Then, he shifts forward on his knees a couple of paces before putting all his weight on one knee and lifting away, swinging his other leg over Elio's two and turning towards him on the bed, facing him properly. The other man's face is tear-streaked, his breathing ragged and the darkness in the room makes his skin look slightly broken, not in terms of flesh and blood, but in terms of moonlight and patches of shadow, criss-crossing over him uncaringly. He's smaller than he ought to be, like this. But he's also very, very real.
Jean Louis' throat can attest to that, as can the still-lingering pleasure in his limbs.
Silently, he leans over the bed, drawing out a spare duvet from one of its hidden drawers. It's a smooth movement, unhindered, the large fabric folding out into the air with a quick, efficient swish. Without further ado, Jean Louis drapes it over Elio, first, then shifts beneath it himself, lying down on his stomach next to him. He folds his arms beneath his chin and looks Elio over from the side, his own eyes narrowed to slits in the darkness and his breathing slower than usual, calmer.
Almost hesitantly, he sneaks one arm over Elio's midriff and stays like that, blinking lazily at him, keeping his mind and everything waiting in the wings at an arm's length with practiced ease. Later, he thinks. And sleep.
Elio. ]
no subject
He breathes, in and out, unevenly while Jean Louis frees him of the condom and throws it off to the side, just lying there, partially stunned, trying to put his world back together. When Jean Louis climbs off his body, Elio feels momentarily alone, abandoned, and the feeling gets to him, like it resonates with something deep inside of him. Something he knows the shape of, too well. Then, the other man finds a spare duvet and spreads it out over him, like a parent tucking in their child, almost, except they just fucked, so not so much, right? Still, it feels nice.
Oh, he feels tired.
Shifting beneath the duvet, he makes more room for Jean Louis as the other man joins him. Breathes in the scent of him, dark and dangerous and masculine. He lies down on his stomach next to Elio, head on one arm, eyes focused on him almost unblinkingly. Elio thinks he should be afraid, probably, though he doesn’t know of what.
He isn’t. Maybe he doesn’t even care.
Instead he reaches out slowly, rolling onto his side at the same time, and runs his fingers along the prominent line of the other man’s jaw, even more prominent due to the early stage of a beard. Elio caresses him, his five o’clock shadow. Lovingly. Then, he lets his arm fall back to his side and closes his eyes. He’s exhausted. Like he’s just hollowed himself out, lost a little bit of himself to give way to the other man’s cock.
Either that or gained an extra limb. Time will tell.
Smiling, he shifts a little, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, finds his comfort and stays in it. ]