[ He can feel Jean Louis watching him, he can feel him looking at him while he pleasures himself, impaling himself on his cock again and again, hips snapping back and pulling out on repeat, until it's a blur of physical impressions, the hard stab of heat whenever Jean Louis slams over his prostate, because it's slamming now, it's nothing less than that, especially not once the other man reaches down with one spit-slick hand, the sound of him spitting in his palm making Elio's balls draw up further, and curls his fingers lightly around his cock, letting it slide naturally into the hole of his fist. Elio whines, trying to balance the need to push back onto his cock with the need to push forward and have his own cock stroked.
It doesn't take long, it takes a couple of thrusts at most, then they've built it up perfectly, just right. Elio can feel Jean Louis' gasping breath stirring his curls, damp against his neck and he feels every shudder of their movements in his arms, locked around the other man's head and he feels every thrust in his ass, taking up space, filling him to the brim, his asshole clenching slightly around every outstroke, like it's saying, stay. Please stay. Please.
Jean Louis' orgasm hits first, Elio feels it, hears it in his breathing, trembling out of him and in itself, it's almost enough to push him over the edge, but then there's the feeling of his next thrust, harder, burying into Elio's asshole and his cock pulsing, that strange, new sensation of being come inside, now, without protection. Elio whimpers, shifts a little and reaches down blindly, closing his fingers around Jean Louis' hand on his cock, tightening his grip a little bit, just so he can feel - along the underside - the head... He groans and thrusts forward once, twice, into the slick hole of his fingers and then, he's coming, feeling his whole body shake somewhat, his cock leaking cum all over the mattress, his asshole clenching rhythmically around the other man's cock, only a few seconds behind.
When he whines, it's more release than desperate chase and it's beautiful and it's so good. He keeps shaking for maybe ten seconds, his whole body giving over to it, then everything stills and his muscles feel light as air, like there are no bones left in him, he's been hollowed out. Elio loves that feeling. It means room, room for someone else to claim, room to rent out to another person and he knows who he wants it to be, too. He knows. ]
You do this thing to me when we fuck where I forget myself. It's nice.
[ His voice is raw, his tone lax, lazy. Slowly, he reaches up again, cum all over his hand and everything smelling like sex, slipping his fingers into Jean Louis' hair again, stroking along his scalp.
[ Elio follows right behind him, his hand locked around Jean Louis' fingers to make his grip tighter, to make it fit and it doesn't take very much at all which is incredible in itself. Then, yes, he's coming too, groaning and thrusting forward, his arse milking Jean Louis' cock until he's pretty sure it might possibly kill him and he makes a harsh sound into Elio's hair, something that could have possibly been a whine in a different life. He snaps his hips forward a couple of times more, just to follow the impulse of his body - then, it all goes quiet.
Still.
I forget myself says Elio and slips his fingers into his hair, his arse clenching a little around Jean Louis' cock. Elio, on his part, is growing flaccid fast between his fingers so he gives him a light squeeze and releases him, spreading his fingers out over his abdomen instead. He leans into the touch of Elio's fingers against his scalp, eyes closed and breathing slowing gradually to something nowhere close to normal, something that feels like a pathway to sleep. Imagine that. He never goes to sleep when he wakes up at night, particularly not after... well. Do you dream? asked Elio, and...
He sighs. Shifts his hips a little and pulls out carefully, his cock slipping free from Elio's arse with a soft pop, wet still, and slick around the tip. It comes to a rest against his thigh. Then, he does the opposite of what he'd normally do - normally, he'd turn onto his back, re-create at least a touch of distance between their bodies once more to get reality re-aligned once again. Instead, he shifts closer, just a fraction, resting his chin on Elio's shoulder and settling in. ]
I know.
[ He yawns. His voice is rusty around the edges, like he's swallowed something sharp and unyielding. ]
[ Imagine, being the thing to tether someone, Elio thinks, listening for Jean Louis’ breathing, his voice behind him, settling in so close to his back, chin on his shoulder, they could as well be the same. Merging in some fantastical, mysterious, divine way. Jean Louis releases his slowly softening cock and spreads his fingers out over his abdomen, keeping him near, keeping him tethered. Elio breathes out slowly, feels the chest behind him mirror that motion, in, out. He also feels Jean Louis pull out, a momentary sting to his asshole, the rim contracting once the other man’s cock is completely removed from him, leaving him a little bit emptier. Another deep inhale, exhale.
Jean Louis yawns. It’s contagious, after a second, Elio’s yawning, too.
Leaning his head back, he feels the outline of cheek and the side of Jean Louis’ face, his hair, he feels all of him. He feels like home. Imagine being the one to tether another person, how much you’re losing, if that bond breaks.
He doesn’t want to think about that. Instead Elio nuzzles in, lets himself be held and closes his eyes, sinking into the utter grayness behind. His body feels comfortably his own and comfortably Jean Louis’ at the same time. ]
It’s so you don’t leave.
[ A mutter, almost inaudible, but he lets Jean Louis have it anyway, this constant fear he nurtures behind his openness of approach. If not because of it. Because his openness changed something once, but hasn’t changed since. Elio still has to unlearn that being open means you lose.
He brushes his fingertips along the curve of Jean Louis’ skull. With him, he’s willing to be a student once more, even if he thought that time was long gone. The miracle is that they’re both staying now, long enough to be taught. ]
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solosection) wrote2022-01-04 02:53 pm
no subject
It doesn't take long, it takes a couple of thrusts at most, then they've built it up perfectly, just right. Elio can feel Jean Louis' gasping breath stirring his curls, damp against his neck and he feels every shudder of their movements in his arms, locked around the other man's head and he feels every thrust in his ass, taking up space, filling him to the brim, his asshole clenching slightly around every outstroke, like it's saying, stay. Please stay. Please.
Jean Louis' orgasm hits first, Elio feels it, hears it in his breathing, trembling out of him and in itself, it's almost enough to push him over the edge, but then there's the feeling of his next thrust, harder, burying into Elio's asshole and his cock pulsing, that strange, new sensation of being come inside, now, without protection. Elio whimpers, shifts a little and reaches down blindly, closing his fingers around Jean Louis' hand on his cock, tightening his grip a little bit, just so he can feel - along the underside - the head... He groans and thrusts forward once, twice, into the slick hole of his fingers and then, he's coming, feeling his whole body shake somewhat, his cock leaking cum all over the mattress, his asshole clenching rhythmically around the other man's cock, only a few seconds behind.
When he whines, it's more release than desperate chase and it's beautiful and it's so good. He keeps shaking for maybe ten seconds, his whole body giving over to it, then everything stills and his muscles feel light as air, like there are no bones left in him, he's been hollowed out. Elio loves that feeling. It means room, room for someone else to claim, room to rent out to another person and he knows who he wants it to be, too. He knows. ]
You do this thing to me when we fuck where I forget myself. It's nice.
[ His voice is raw, his tone lax, lazy. Slowly, he reaches up again, cum all over his hand and everything smelling like sex, slipping his fingers into Jean Louis' hair again, stroking along his scalp.
They lie like that. Together. ]
no subject
Still.
I forget myself says Elio and slips his fingers into his hair, his arse clenching a little around Jean Louis' cock. Elio, on his part, is growing flaccid fast between his fingers so he gives him a light squeeze and releases him, spreading his fingers out over his abdomen instead. He leans into the touch of Elio's fingers against his scalp, eyes closed and breathing slowing gradually to something nowhere close to normal, something that feels like a pathway to sleep. Imagine that. He never goes to sleep when he wakes up at night, particularly not after... well. Do you dream? asked Elio, and...
He sighs. Shifts his hips a little and pulls out carefully, his cock slipping free from Elio's arse with a soft pop, wet still, and slick around the tip. It comes to a rest against his thigh. Then, he does the opposite of what he'd normally do - normally, he'd turn onto his back, re-create at least a touch of distance between their bodies once more to get reality re-aligned once again. Instead, he shifts closer, just a fraction, resting his chin on Elio's shoulder and settling in. ]
I know.
[ He yawns. His voice is rusty around the edges, like he's swallowed something sharp and unyielding. ]
Except in reverse. You tether me, somehow.
no subject
Jean Louis yawns. It’s contagious, after a second, Elio’s yawning, too.
Leaning his head back, he feels the outline of cheek and the side of Jean Louis’ face, his hair, he feels all of him. He feels like home. Imagine being the one to tether another person, how much you’re losing, if that bond breaks.
He doesn’t want to think about that. Instead Elio nuzzles in, lets himself be held and closes his eyes, sinking into the utter grayness behind. His body feels comfortably his own and comfortably Jean Louis’ at the same time. ]
It’s so you don’t leave.
[ A mutter, almost inaudible, but he lets Jean Louis have it anyway, this constant fear he nurtures behind his openness of approach. If not because of it. Because his openness changed something once, but hasn’t changed since. Elio still has to unlearn that being open means you lose.
He brushes his fingertips along the curve of Jean Louis’ skull. With him, he’s willing to be a student once more, even if he thought that time was long gone. The miracle is that they’re both staying now, long enough to be taught. ]