[ Elio half-crawls over Jean Louis' one leg as the man starts to move, giving him room to roll over onto his side, watching him, the way he's sticky with his own cum and sweaty and the taste of his ass is fresh in Elio's mouth, still. This side of him? Elio loves it, the darkness and the musk and the ten thousand leagues that he's been plunged into, the both of them, probably, from the looks of it. There's such a thing as drowning and there are shipwrecks in these waters and Jean Louis is still catching himself, that much is obvious. Finding himself. Underwater excavations.
His father used to say Atlantis might just have been a Greek island, sunk by a volcanic eruption, though he'd always drunk a lot of wine when getting into that whole discussion.
They're not sinking, the two of them, he thinks as he moves up Jean Louis' body, lying down on his side, pressing in front-first against him, their flaccid cocks rubbing together which isn't the most comfortable and there's the wet spot, too, and in the morning, Jean Louis' cum will stick to Elio's skin, a thought he loves. They're claiming the sea, taking what they can from it. It's different.
Slow, long breaths, his lungs filling. His chest rising. His body satisfied. Elio rests his chin on Jean Louis' shoulder, slipping his arm around his waist, slowly caressing his back, the ribbons he can't see from here, but he could trace them by feel alone now. Little imperfections in the other man's skin. He exhales, tries to do it away from Jean Louis' face, but only just.
There's no unpalatable side to him, he thinks. That's a matter of wanting enough. And Elio wants, simple as that.
He wants Jean Louis, his Atlantises and everything. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
solosection) wrote2022-01-04 02:53 pm
no subject
His father used to say Atlantis might just have been a Greek island, sunk by a volcanic eruption, though he'd always drunk a lot of wine when getting into that whole discussion.
They're not sinking, the two of them, he thinks as he moves up Jean Louis' body, lying down on his side, pressing in front-first against him, their flaccid cocks rubbing together which isn't the most comfortable and there's the wet spot, too, and in the morning, Jean Louis' cum will stick to Elio's skin, a thought he loves. They're claiming the sea, taking what they can from it. It's different.
Slow, long breaths, his lungs filling. His chest rising. His body satisfied. Elio rests his chin on Jean Louis' shoulder, slipping his arm around his waist, slowly caressing his back, the ribbons he can't see from here, but he could trace them by feel alone now. Little imperfections in the other man's skin. He exhales, tries to do it away from Jean Louis' face, but only just.
There's no unpalatable side to him, he thinks. That's a matter of wanting enough. And Elio wants, simple as that.
He wants Jean Louis, his Atlantises and everything. ]