O P E N P O S T .

[solosection]

texts / tfln overflow / starters / picture prompts / quote/lyric prompts / anything else

Comments

[solosection]

[ They are exchanging. They are exchanging fluids and hardness and want and give, take. Elio opens wide and lets the other man push further back, as if searching for a boundary where there's none. Elio's body can take him and the rest of Elio? It wants to take him. Wants him to fill out his emptinesses. He's been a black hole for so long that the universal rules have been rewritten around him, there's no matter within him, there can't be, because Elio has been running from and rejecting everything, everyone. But he doesn't reject Jean Louis, whose surname he still doesn't know, he just knows he's the Foreign Minister of this small nation Elio's guesting, where he's meant to sleep and move on from, right? Like he sleeps with and moves on from most people.

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. ]

[nowheretowns]

[ It doesn't take long before everything starts blending together - the sweet roughness of Elio's cock as he cants his hips upwards, pushing himself inside and accepting what he's being offered, combined with the unbelievable tightness of the other man's throat as he takes Jean Louis down - down - oh, fuck, fuck, that's incredible. He moans, the sound deep and harsh and breathless, as he sinks down into Elio's throat to the base, feeling the outline of his nose against his balls, the absolutely mindblowing sensation of being enfolded.

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. ]

[solosection]

[ It’s an invitation and Jean Louis takes it, the way Elio imagines, knowing very little about the backstage workings of politics, like he told the other man he’s almost apolitical, that you have to when you want to get anywhere in those circles.

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. ]

[nowheretowns]

[ Elio follows him only moments later, his cock pulsing in the condom, the head lodged in his throat in a way that honestly makes him blink a little but it's fine, it's obviously doing what it should be doing and Elio just gave him... well. He just did. Though they aren't common in his line of work, the nature of even transactions aren't strange or unfamiliar to him - merely impractical or a little disappointing under normal circumstances. There's always got to be an advantage, right, something that means you came out on top. But this, right here?

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. ]

[solosection]

[ The rest is technicalities. There’s orgasming and then, there’s what follows.

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. ]