Oh god! That bursting feeling, and thank fuck it was in his chest and not lower down. Hell no, he wasn't going to end this just yet, not from words. Though, they were hot words, words that made Lucien want to growl and fuck John into the mattress. Which was good, as that was exactly what John was asking for.
Everything was clouded in the thick haze of lust, swimming in it, rich and full of the delicious scents of sex. Pulling back, Lucien shuffled as he changed his position and gripped John's thighs to pull him down at the same time as he bucked his hips up. His strokes were harder and deeper, faster. If he looked down he could watch his own cock as he pulled out and then thrust back inside the other man's body, but he preferred to rest his gaze on John's hard length and the frenzy with which he worked his hand over the shaft. Fuck, it was debauched somehow, knowing that he was entirely responsible for this, that no one else had ever driven John to these levels in his life before. He cling to John's hips until there were little white marks on the skin from the pressure, and then longer still, while he fucked him hard, losing control in his desperation.
It was so good, it was too good, it was too much, and yet never enough. John's body felt absolutely assaulted, overwhelmed, so many unknown sensations crashing down on him, relentlessly, as Lucien began to fuck him in earnest. John did not know himself to be a very vocal lover; he was focused, always had been, on whatever woman he'd been with, making sure she received her pleasure before he began to chase down his own with an almost quiet intent. Not now. Not like this. Afterwards, he might feel like hiding his face in the pillow, he was fucking shameless. Lust-filled moans and soft cries accompanying nearly every one of Lucien's hard thrusts, but God, if he did not vocalize this intense pleasure in some way, he might just shatter before ever reaching the end.
"Lucien," he groaned, his hand a blur on his cock as he desperately attempted to stroke himself to completion. Close, so close... "Fuck, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--"
John's orgasm, perhaps fittingly, was a silent one. The sheer force with which it hit him robbed him of breath, of sound, of anything other than the feeling of the most intense pleasure he'd ever experienced. His entire body tensed up as he came, and came, and came, seemingly endless, every shock and tremor that ran through his body only adding to the pleasure. His eyes were shut tightly, his mouth open, his fingers digging hard into Lucien's upper arm as he stroked himself a few more times, hand now coated and slick with his own come.
Lucien stared with blown pupils as the first stuttering spurts of creamy fluid burst from the tip of John's cock, then more, a pulsing stream that sometimes was lost under John's fist as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm. The rosy pink head of his cock glistened, milky come trailing down his knuckles and streaked across his stomach, and Lucien drank in the sight like he'd never watched a man climax before. He felt like he hadn't, he felt like this was the best porn he'd ever watched. The best because even as his eyes drank in the sight of John coming undone beneath him, he could feel the shudders of his orgasm trembling through his body, and the rhythmic tightening of his internal muscles, undulating and squeezing his length as he continued to fuck him, hips pistoning of their own accord, seeking to bury his cock deep inside John and let the other man milk his own climax from him.
"Fuck..." His voice was gravelly and thick. His balls tightened and the pulsing heat spread through him as John began to relax. Now. Now. Lucien needed to be with him in this. He pulled out, almost all the way, and it was the most torturous moment of all as he teetered on the brink and then slammed back into John's body, light flashing before his eyes before he even buried himself fully inside. And then he was spilling, coming hard and all he could do was cling on, John's name on his lips.
John watched in amazement as Lucien's reached his own climax, a delicious aftershock running through his own body at the sight. Oh, but Lucien was beautiful like this, coming apart, lost in pleasure, with his cock buried deep inside of John, John's name falling from his lips... A feeling of triumph and possession washed over him. Yes, yes, he wanted that, wanted Lucien to be just as overcome by him as he was by Lucien. He wanted to hear his name on Lucien's lips over and over like this, wanted to know he was at the center of all that pleasure.
He could see and feel the tension leaving Lucien's body as the last waves of his orgasm settled, and John reached out, drawing the other man safely into his arms. He shifted a little, and stilled, realization suddenly dawning, with no small amount of horror. He glanced sideways, and there it was, lying on the nightstand, mocking him. Condom. They'd forgotten the condom. Oh, shit. He paled, but tried his best not to freak out just yet. But it was hard not to. How had they forgotten? They, two men of medicine, who devoted their lives taking care of people's health and well-being. Yes, it had been so easy to get lost in each other, the hunger rising and rising until all they wanted was to fuck themselves senseless, but Jesus. John's heart rate had picked up. Despite everything, the amazing sex, the feeling of connection John felt to Lucien... the man was still a stranger. A gay stranger. Who had made it no secret that he had an active sex life. Oh, God.
"We forgot the condom," John finally said, and hated his voice for sounding so small, so anxious. But fuck, it was so stupid. He kept his arms around Lucien, however, unwilling to let go even now. "You're not-- Are you?" Damnit, damnit, damnit, this was so not how any of this was supposed to go.
Sticky, but sated, Lucien let his body drop. First, he rested over John while his chest heaved and his mind fought to kick back into some clearer, less primal level of operating. He pressed his face under the corner of John's jaw, tilting his head to kiss John's hot, damp skin, the taste of salt lingering on his lips when he licked them. He made a satisfied noise against the other man's ear, the overwhelming tenderness towards John that he was feeling right due to post-orgasm bliss. Yeah, it was probably that. Already half out, he shift his hips to pull the rest of the way out and then slid to the side, still resting against the furnace of John's body, still tangled up with him and in no hurry to pull apart further than necessary. Would he ask him to stay the night? He found himself hoping so. He could happily drift off like this; pressed up against him, a tangle of limbs.
He didn't notice any change in John, no tensing or pulling away. The words were like a sudden sledgehammer that hit him with more meaning than it might less careful guys, the soft blissfulness around him disintegrating while his heart gave a single thud in his chest. "Fuck." Turning his head sharply, he could spy the little packet on the nightstand. How could he be so fucking stupid? How could they? John had been so certain to direct him to the protection, and now... Now Lucien looked completely untrustworthy and careless. He'd been so tied up in getting off, in being with John, too eager, too lost in his own desire, and now he'd blown it.
He really couldn't blame John for asking, he wouldn't have expected anything less in the situation. Lucien pulled away from him a bit to look him in the eye. "No... No... I'm careful... Normally. And I get tested..." And why would John believe anything he said to him now? "Fuck, I'm so sorry..."
John had no way of knowing if Lucien was speaking the truth; no way whatsoever. His mind was running a million miles an hour, mapping out all the likely scenarios. Whether he was telling the truth or not, John would want to get tested... or so he thought. God, where had all his reason gone when it came to his man? Looking into those brown eyes, John believed him, without question, and where did that kind of faith even come from? What the bloody hell was it even based on? But then, none of this had made any real sense so far. Why would it make any sense now? All John knew was how he felt. And, looking into Lucien's eyes now, what he felt was relief, his mind silenced alongside his worry.
"Don't be," he said, deep exhaustion settling into his body. The brief but intense anxiety attack coupled with the earth-shattering they'd just shared in had drained John of all energy. All he wanted to do now was sleep. He reached out a hand, running gentle fingers through Lucien's messy hair. "You're not the only who forgot. We'll just have to be on top of it next time, yeah?" He smiled, eyes dancing with a wry sort of mirth. "Should I be flattered that you forgot?"
"Next time?" Despite the lingering self-rebuking, there came another little surge in his stomach, fluttering almost, and to be honest it probably felt even better because seconds before he'd been so certain that he'd fucked this up irreversibly. It seemed to Lucien that John wasn't one to say things like this off the cuff or lightly; so far every promise he'd made, words that other men might have thrown away without ever intending to follow through on them, he'd kept. Lucien rested his hand on the other man's chest, far enough away from the scar on his shoulder not to trouble it, the heel of his palm just faintly picking up his heartbeat if he pressed gently.
Amused, he bit his lip, pulling the skin slowly as a smile grew on his face. It wasn't entirely mock innocence, with a measure of contrition thrown in as well; some of it was genuine. Guilt. Yes, he was guilty. The ending could have gone better, he'd wanted it to be perfect, and there was no denying, potentially, how big a fuck up this could have been. However, the fact that John had seemed to forgive him and trust him, maybe, already, that helped to make it so much lighter.
"Yeah, you should be. God, John, I just..." He shook his head. He couldn't even begin to put into words how he'd felt, how he still felt now. "I know it's not an acceptable excuse, but I just needed to fuck you and you'd wound me up so tight I just-" he tapped his fingertips against his skin suddenly, "- uncoiled so fast that I didn't even have time to think." He took a deep breath, bending to brush his lips over John's. "You're stunning."
A part of John was still freaked out; not so much about the huge potential fuck-up this night could have brought, and really, therein lay the exact problem. Why wasn't he more upset? He could have at least shown his anger and anxiety for a little longer. It would have been completely understandable, and the situation had rather called for it. Was it the sex? Because, God, it had been absolutely mind-blowing, but surely he hadn't actually lost the ability to think? Yet somehow, at some point, he had decided to trust Lucien, whatever that meant. And right now, it meant believing him. And laughing softly at his words as he leaned up, pressing a lazy kiss to the other man's lips. Stunning? Really?
"You're not too bad yourself," he murmured, and managed not to cringe... much. When had he turned into such a complete sap? Not good. And he didn't give a fuck, at all. "I liked feeling you inside of me." Wrapping his arms a little tighter around Lucien, John drew the other man closer, shifting a little, and frowning. Oh, that was going to hurt in the morning. But that was then. He pressed a reassuring kiss to Lucien's cheek, exhaling softly. "You don't have to... you know, go. If you don't want to." John rather hoped he would decide to stay. This was ever so comfortable.
Lucien made a soft humming noise. He was completely spent and so comfortable. Sometimes after fucking he couldn't stand to stay in bed, cuddling. Not always, he wasn't against being soppy, even one night stands could have their moments of lazy tranquility. But, he didn't stick around for the sake of it and if it didn't feel right, he'd excuse himself and go make a cup of tea if he couldn't get rid of them entirely. It definitely wasn't the case here, everything fit so neatly against him, John fit so neatly against him. He honestly wasn't sure where he ended and the other man began, which probably meant that one limb or another would end up with pins and needles later on when he did try to move. He didn't care about that.
"I'm in no hurry to leave." He murmured, trying to stretch without moving any of his body. It just made him yawn, so he shifted enough to wrap his arm around John and rested his head against his shoulder. After a moment, he made a small sound of amusement. "Is your flatmate coming home tonight? Only... My pants are somewhere in your living room..."
John frowned with his eyes closed at Lucien's question; the last thing he wanted to do right now was think about Sherlock, though John couldn't help but wonder what his flatmate would make of this turn of events... He knew, very well indeed, how Sherlock had felt about John's many girlfriends. The man had made no secret of that. How would he respond to this? The same? Likely. It was one of the delights of his friend; he never discriminated. Stupid people were stupid, romantic interests were dull and useless and only served to occupy John's mind and time. Time better spent on running after Sherlock...
"No, he's off for a few days. We've got the entire flat to ourselves." John tightened his arms around the other man, finding it surprisingly easy to settle in comfortably beside him. "Let's get some sleep, yeah? You've all but destroyed me, I'm so knackered." There was definite amusement and fondness in his voice there. Ah, but he would sleep well tonight.
"Good," he breathed out, his voice thick and rough as the battle with sleepiness became harder to keep the winning hand from. Good, because he really didn't want either of them to have to move and collect clothes when they probably wouldn't be able to reproduce this exquisitely comfortable arrangement again afterwards. It was the bone-tiredness that contributed the snuggley comfort, after all, and once they'd woken up from movement and the cold outside of the sheets it wouldn't work the same, suddenly they would find that they had awkward limbs they wouldn't be able find a place to put them in.
Also good, because he wasn't quite ready to do the morning walk of shame in front of a complete stranger. Not one that he might end up seeing more often if he was going to see John again. He could make a better first impression than that. Not that he usually cared what flatmates thought of him.
"Hmm... Sleep..." He agreed and it could well have been a conversational masterpiece, the effort talking was becoming for him now.
Everything was clouded in the thick haze of lust, swimming in it, rich and full of the delicious scents of sex. Pulling back, Lucien shuffled as he changed his position and gripped John's thighs to pull him down at the same time as he bucked his hips up. His strokes were harder and deeper, faster. If he looked down he could watch his own cock as he pulled out and then thrust back inside the other man's body, but he preferred to rest his gaze on John's hard length and the frenzy with which he worked his hand over the shaft. Fuck, it was debauched somehow, knowing that he was entirely responsible for this, that no one else had ever driven John to these levels in his life before. He cling to John's hips until there were little white marks on the skin from the pressure, and then longer still, while he fucked him hard, losing control in his desperation.
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"Lucien," he groaned, his hand a blur on his cock as he desperately attempted to stroke himself to completion. Close, so close... "Fuck, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me--"
John's orgasm, perhaps fittingly, was a silent one. The sheer force with which it hit him robbed him of breath, of sound, of anything other than the feeling of the most intense pleasure he'd ever experienced. His entire body tensed up as he came, and came, and came, seemingly endless, every shock and tremor that ran through his body only adding to the pleasure. His eyes were shut tightly, his mouth open, his fingers digging hard into Lucien's upper arm as he stroked himself a few more times, hand now coated and slick with his own come.
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"Fuck..." His voice was gravelly and thick. His balls tightened and the pulsing heat spread through him as John began to relax. Now. Now. Lucien needed to be with him in this. He pulled out, almost all the way, and it was the most torturous moment of all as he teetered on the brink and then slammed back into John's body, light flashing before his eyes before he even buried himself fully inside. And then he was spilling, coming hard and all he could do was cling on, John's name on his lips.
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He could see and feel the tension leaving Lucien's body as the last waves of his orgasm settled, and John reached out, drawing the other man safely into his arms. He shifted a little, and stilled, realization suddenly dawning, with no small amount of horror. He glanced sideways, and there it was, lying on the nightstand, mocking him. Condom. They'd forgotten the condom. Oh, shit. He paled, but tried his best not to freak out just yet. But it was hard not to. How had they forgotten? They, two men of medicine, who devoted their lives taking care of people's health and well-being. Yes, it had been so easy to get lost in each other, the hunger rising and rising until all they wanted was to fuck themselves senseless, but Jesus. John's heart rate had picked up. Despite everything, the amazing sex, the feeling of connection John felt to Lucien... the man was still a stranger. A gay stranger. Who had made it no secret that he had an active sex life. Oh, God.
"We forgot the condom," John finally said, and hated his voice for sounding so small, so anxious. But fuck, it was so stupid. He kept his arms around Lucien, however, unwilling to let go even now. "You're not-- Are you?" Damnit, damnit, damnit, this was so not how any of this was supposed to go.
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He didn't notice any change in John, no tensing or pulling away. The words were like a sudden sledgehammer that hit him with more meaning than it might less careful guys, the soft blissfulness around him disintegrating while his heart gave a single thud in his chest. "Fuck." Turning his head sharply, he could spy the little packet on the nightstand. How could he be so fucking stupid? How could they? John had been so certain to direct him to the protection, and now... Now Lucien looked completely untrustworthy and careless. He'd been so tied up in getting off, in being with John, too eager, too lost in his own desire, and now he'd blown it.
He really couldn't blame John for asking, he wouldn't have expected anything less in the situation. Lucien pulled away from him a bit to look him in the eye. "No... No... I'm careful... Normally. And I get tested..." And why would John believe anything he said to him now? "Fuck, I'm so sorry..."
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"Don't be," he said, deep exhaustion settling into his body. The brief but intense anxiety attack coupled with the earth-shattering they'd just shared in had drained John of all energy. All he wanted to do now was sleep. He reached out a hand, running gentle fingers through Lucien's messy hair. "You're not the only who forgot. We'll just have to be on top of it next time, yeah?" He smiled, eyes dancing with a wry sort of mirth. "Should I be flattered that you forgot?"
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Amused, he bit his lip, pulling the skin slowly as a smile grew on his face. It wasn't entirely mock innocence, with a measure of contrition thrown in as well; some of it was genuine. Guilt. Yes, he was guilty. The ending could have gone better, he'd wanted it to be perfect, and there was no denying, potentially, how big a fuck up this could have been. However, the fact that John had seemed to forgive him and trust him, maybe, already, that helped to make it so much lighter.
"Yeah, you should be. God, John, I just..." He shook his head. He couldn't even begin to put into words how he'd felt, how he still felt now. "I know it's not an acceptable excuse, but I just needed to fuck you and you'd wound me up so tight I just-" he tapped his fingertips against his skin suddenly, "- uncoiled so fast that I didn't even have time to think." He took a deep breath, bending to brush his lips over John's. "You're stunning."
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"You're not too bad yourself," he murmured, and managed not to cringe... much. When had he turned into such a complete sap? Not good. And he didn't give a fuck, at all. "I liked feeling you inside of me." Wrapping his arms a little tighter around Lucien, John drew the other man closer, shifting a little, and frowning. Oh, that was going to hurt in the morning. But that was then. He pressed a reassuring kiss to Lucien's cheek, exhaling softly. "You don't have to... you know, go. If you don't want to." John rather hoped he would decide to stay. This was ever so comfortable.
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"I'm in no hurry to leave." He murmured, trying to stretch without moving any of his body. It just made him yawn, so he shifted enough to wrap his arm around John and rested his head against his shoulder. After a moment, he made a small sound of amusement. "Is your flatmate coming home tonight? Only... My pants are somewhere in your living room..."
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"No, he's off for a few days. We've got the entire flat to ourselves." John tightened his arms around the other man, finding it surprisingly easy to settle in comfortably beside him. "Let's get some sleep, yeah? You've all but destroyed me, I'm so knackered." There was definite amusement and fondness in his voice there. Ah, but he would sleep well tonight.
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Also good, because he wasn't quite ready to do the morning walk of shame in front of a complete stranger. Not one that he might end up seeing more often if he was going to see John again. He could make a better first impression than that. Not that he usually cared what flatmates thought of him.
"Hmm... Sleep..." He agreed and it could well have been a conversational masterpiece, the effort talking was becoming for him now.
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