Prompt Post: ROUND SEVEN
ROUND SEVEN IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND SIX | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND EIGHT >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
Another late night over drinks and chess pieces, something that’s becoming a warm, comfortable routine between them. Erik won the match, another tic mark in his favor in their on-going personal tournament, and now he’s relaxed in his chair, smug and patient as he waits for Charles to reset the board.
“I think that’s enough chess for one evening, don’t you?”
Charles’s hand freezes over his pawn, an instant away from making the opening move. He withdraws and sits back, cupping his chin. “Did you have something else in mind, then?”
It’s a near thing, but Erik manages not to chuckle at how Charles’s index and middle fingers keep curling and uncurling as Charles clearly fights against his natural impulse to go digging around for his answers. Charles and his own special brand of manners never fail to amuse Erik when it’s Charles that’s most frustrated by them.
“In fact I do.” Erik sets down his glass, and taps against his temple in invitation. I’ve been thinking all day about what your lips would look like wrapped around my cock.
Erik smiles as Charles’s mouth falls open in surprise, a gentle pulse of arousal - his, Charles’s, it didn’t really matter - ebbing and flowing between them. Then Charles laughs, an awkward laugh to give him a chance to look away; he’s still not comfortable with this, still not really believing that Erik finds him so desirable. Erik’s been working on correcting that, but it’s still slow going.
Finally, Charles gets control over himself. “Should we…” go to bed? He puts his drink down and stands, eyebrow arched in invitation.
“No, I think I’ll stay here a while.” And then Erik concentrates, thinking firmly about the rest of what he wants, of how he can’t wait the few minutes it will take to get up the stairs, because he’s hard already and too busy dreaming about what it will feel to sink into the welcoming het of Charles’s body, however he’ll have Erik.
Charles stumbles closer and falls to his knees at Erik’s feet. “You’re getting good at turning my gift against me,” he says, reaching for Erik’s belt. By the time he’s got it undone and out of the way, Erik’s already opened his flies. It’s not as though there’s any point in playing hard to get, now is there?
“All to our mutual benefit.” Erik reaches out a hand and cards his fingers through Charles’s hair.
“That wasn’t a complaint.” Charles’s hand is cool from the tumbler as he reaches into Erik’s briefs and pulls his cock out.
Erik’s eyes slide shut at the sensation of such a careful touch on his hot length, but he’s still linked up with Charles, still gets flashes of what Charles sees. Erik looks ready to fuck, his cock wide and long, flat against his belly as he slouches in the chair, sweater pushed halfway up his chest. Charles wants it in him, wants to be full of that cock, to have it shoved up deep inside him and splitting him open until they bring the entire house down with their cries of passion.
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“Charles…” Erik groans, his fingers clenching briefly in Charles’s thick hair. “We can do that later. I promise. Just. Please, Charles.”
Charles laughed, but this time there’s nothing awkward about the sound. He can feel Erik’s need, his desire for Charles, and Erik doesn’t need their link to know what a heady drug it is to know you’re wanted so thoroughly.
“I’ll take care of you, friend.” The words should be soothing, or perhaps patronizing, but Charles puts so much sex into them that Erik can only groan and nod, forcing himself to loosen his hands and transfer his grip to the arms of the chair as Charles lifts Erik’s cock and licks a long, teasing strip up the length.
Erik’s eyes fly open and he looks down in time to see Charles swirling his tongue around the crown of his cock, tasting his slit and then pressing an almost-chaste kiss to the very tip before mouthing his way back down. He tries to breathe deeply, but the air comes in shuddering gasps, punctuated by the pop of the fire beside them. Distantly, Erik can feel sweat beading on his brow, his toes curling in his shoes, but his world, his sensations are all centered entirely around Charles’s mouth on his cock, the magnetic way Erik’s cock seems to strain toward those tempting lips each time they move a breath away.
Charles, please. Erik pushes all of those sensations to the front of his mind, feeding them right to Charles on purpose, because he doesn’t want slow and he doesn’t want teasing. It works, too.
Charles moans and opens his mouth, his pupils blown wide as he meets Erik’s eyes and swallows him down. The angle is awkward and he only gets a little past halfway before Erik’s cock is nudging at the back of his throat, but, oh, it feels so good. So wet and hot and perfect, the suction of Charles’s lips and cheeks tight around Erik, his hand making up the difference as he bobs his head slowly, drooling a little already. He’s giving Erik his thoughts, too, how it’s good for him, mouth full of cock and ass still so empty, his own dick so hard and desperate behind his trousers, but Charles knows he can ride Erik’s orgasm, knows sometimes that’s even better than coming in his own hand.
(Charles knows all about coming in his own hand. Especially where Erik is concerned. He had to jerk off on a nightly basis, trying so hard not to project, thinking about Erik’s body, his smile, his ass, his smile, his hands, his aggression. Charles knew Erik would be able to take him rough or tender, would understand what he needed, but Charles was so afraid, so he came dozens of times alone, fantasizing about fucking and being fucked, about his mouth full of Erik’s cock just like this. And then he got it, and sometimes Charles can’t believe his luck, but no matter how he comes with Erik, it is always a hundred times better than all those earlier orgasms that were all Erik’s, too.)
“Oh fuck, Charles.” The flood of lust and longing nearly sends Erik out of his chair, but he holds on, grabbing Charles’s hair and thrusting up into his mouth. Charles chokes a little, spit and pre-come all over Erik’s cock and Charles’s hand when he lifts his head to catch his breath.
But before Erik can apologize, Charles is covering Erik’s hand with his free hand to keep it in place as he ducks his head again and swallows Erik down again. It’s alright, Erik. I like it.
And that’s all the permission Erik needs. He thrusts up slow and careful, pulling tight handfuls of Charles’s hair. Charles sends Erik the sharp sting of his scalp being abused, the way his own cock leaps eagerly at each groan Erik lets slip, the salty, musky smell of Erik filling him up. He’s close, just from this, and it drives Erik wild, his control slipping to next-to nothing as he bombards Charles with it all; his cock, wet and slick and plunging into Charles, the feel of Charles’s body between his knees, the way Charles’s passion is pushing him higher, the orgasm building at the base of his spine, the way he wants to pull Charles up and kiss him, fuck him, get as far into him as he possibly can and never, ever leave.
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“Charles.” Erik’s panting, gasping. “Charles, now.”
And Charles lets them go, lets them come, Erik right into Charles’s mouth and Charles without a hand on him and it’s so perfect that Erik’s vision goes blurry about the edges for a few seconds as Charles licks him clean and tucks him away. Come to bed with me, Erik, Charles thinks as he stands, offering Erik his hand, and Erik accepts it.
They stand, so close, their fingers entwined like the rest of them will be as soon as they’ve recovered, and Erik reaches up to swipe his thumb across the corner of Charles’s lip, cleaning his come off with a gentle touch. Charles’s hair is a wreck and his mouth swollen, his clothes are a wreck and he looks as thoroughly fucked as Erik feels. Yet Erik can’t wait to strip Charles naked and make him come apart all over again.
Charles smiles, clearly reading Erik’s thoughts.
“Yes,” Erik says. He kisses Charles, once, a light brush of lips. “Bed.”
~end~
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