Deeper [7/?]
anonymous
October 22 2009, 22:50:44 UTC
He bends his head and tongues a teasing, barely-there path down Alfred’s neck. His eyes flutter shut as his ears drink in Alfred’s mewl when lips close over a hardening nipple and suckle.
Arthur smirks as Alfred keens and struggles to move his hands, nipping coaxing the nub in his mouth to hardness. He can’t look away from Alfred’s face, from the rose-red flush and the way his tongue flicks across his lips. He’s never seen Alfred like this, so genuine, open, and sweet.
“Mmmmotherone,” Alfred moans out. “You -” he starts, but Arthur’s already there, kissing his way across Alfred’s chest to give Alfred’s left nipple the same treatment. And his eyes never leave that face; never stop wondering what his eyes must look like beneath eyelids and dark lashes.
Alfred moves with the pulse and cant of Arthur’s tongue, rides the thrill in his own blood without thought or shame. The sight makes Arthur even harder, and he rubs his cock against the sheets for a little relief as he waits for Alfred’s next words.
“You…kiss down my belly now…” Alfred whimpers. And his voice is so high-strung and soft that Arthur gives Alfred a little bit of mercy, dropping his head and lathing the flesh of his toned, tanned stomach with drops of brief kisses, just brushes of warmth over the skin.
But that, oh, that even seems to be too much for Alfred. He shifts and moans, and Arthur sees those fingers tightening beneath the pillow, fighting to free himself.
He can’t, of course, behind the bonds that Arthur’s set for them in this play. But the thought that he can do that to Alfred has Arthur hot and trembling by the time he flicks his tongue into Alfred’s bellybutton and ducks down to nuzzle the small nesting of hair just below it. “And what now, Alfred?” he murmurs.
Alfred swallows and pants above Arthur, and he grants Alfred a brief reprieve before nipping at his skin and relishing the cry it brings out. “Alfred, I asked you a question,” he chides, gentle, as though Alfred’s still just his colony.
“My cock,” he shudders, trying to arch up even as moves out of touch. “You’re touching my -”
“Like this?”
Alfred’s voice draws out in a long, quivering moan as Arthur fists Alfred’s cock and sweeps his arm up in one long, easy stroke. Easy up; easy down. “Do you like that, poppet?” Arthur croons, enjoying the delicious ripple of muscle and sinew as Alfred writhes and arches beneath him.
“I - yessssss….”
Arthur almost says “good”, but bites it back at the thought of something better and richer. “Do you want it to be better?”
And here Alfred frowns; tries to comprehend the hitch in his fantasy, the difference between his book and their reality. Arthur takes that moment to relax his throat; takes Alfred into his mouth as much as he can in one long, drawn-out duck of his head. “Arthur,” he hisses, and Arthur grins around Alfred’s cock as he starts to move, to make this hitch in the story good for Alfred.
Arthur sucks him slow and soft, working with tongue and throat and even a little bit of teeth. Watches Alfred struggle and pull at the down pillow.
“Wanna hold you,” Alfred mutters.
Something in the desperation of that tone makes Arthur stop, look up. It’s not that light in the room, but even he can make out the way Alfred’s throat lurches when he swallows, the shine of something beneath Alfred’s eyelashes.
Oh. Oh.
Alfred’s cock slips from Arthur’s mouth, and he surges up that strong body to tuck his hands under Alfred’s pillow and lace their fingers together. “I’m there with you now,” he whispers, quick, but enough to make out. “I pull your arms from the cushion - you can move them now, Alfred, do whatever you want with them.”
Those strong arms crush Arthur against Alfred’s chest, and Arthur leans forward and brushes his fingers over the crease of Alfred’s eyes to wipe away the wetness there. “Shh, it’s all right,” he whispers, kissing Alfred’s mouth, kissing all the way over to an ear. “Relax,” he whispers as Alfred shudders and sniffles, “relax, pluck the sadness off and flick it away. Melt into the chair, Alfred. I’m right here.”
He nuzzles Alfred’s temple, waiting for the release and slump of Alfred’s body before bending to kiss his mouth. “All right, then?”
Arthur smirks as Alfred keens and struggles to move his hands, nipping coaxing the nub in his mouth to hardness. He can’t look away from Alfred’s face, from the rose-red flush and the way his tongue flicks across his lips. He’s never seen Alfred like this, so genuine, open, and sweet.
“Mmmmotherone,” Alfred moans out. “You -” he starts, but Arthur’s already there, kissing his way across Alfred’s chest to give Alfred’s left nipple the same treatment. And his eyes never leave that face; never stop wondering what his eyes must look like beneath eyelids and dark lashes.
Alfred moves with the pulse and cant of Arthur’s tongue, rides the thrill in his own blood without thought or shame. The sight makes Arthur even harder, and he rubs his cock against the sheets for a little relief as he waits for Alfred’s next words.
“You…kiss down my belly now…” Alfred whimpers. And his voice is so high-strung and soft that Arthur gives Alfred a little bit of mercy, dropping his head and lathing the flesh of his toned, tanned stomach with drops of brief kisses, just brushes of warmth over the skin.
But that, oh, that even seems to be too much for Alfred. He shifts and moans, and Arthur sees those fingers tightening beneath the pillow, fighting to free himself.
He can’t, of course, behind the bonds that Arthur’s set for them in this play. But the thought that he can do that to Alfred has Arthur hot and trembling by the time he flicks his tongue into Alfred’s bellybutton and ducks down to nuzzle the small nesting of hair just below it. “And what now, Alfred?” he murmurs.
Alfred swallows and pants above Arthur, and he grants Alfred a brief reprieve before nipping at his skin and relishing the cry it brings out. “Alfred, I asked you a question,” he chides, gentle, as though Alfred’s still just his colony.
“My cock,” he shudders, trying to arch up even as moves out of touch. “You’re touching my -”
“Like this?”
Alfred’s voice draws out in a long, quivering moan as Arthur fists Alfred’s cock and sweeps his arm up in one long, easy stroke. Easy up; easy down. “Do you like that, poppet?” Arthur croons, enjoying the delicious ripple of muscle and sinew as Alfred writhes and arches beneath him.
“I - yessssss….”
Arthur almost says “good”, but bites it back at the thought of something better and richer. “Do you want it to be better?”
And here Alfred frowns; tries to comprehend the hitch in his fantasy, the difference between his book and their reality. Arthur takes that moment to relax his throat; takes Alfred into his mouth as much as he can in one long, drawn-out duck of his head. “Arthur,” he hisses, and Arthur grins around Alfred’s cock as he starts to move, to make this hitch in the story good for Alfred.
Arthur sucks him slow and soft, working with tongue and throat and even a little bit of teeth. Watches Alfred struggle and pull at the down pillow.
“Wanna hold you,” Alfred mutters.
Something in the desperation of that tone makes Arthur stop, look up. It’s not that light in the room, but even he can make out the way Alfred’s throat lurches when he swallows, the shine of something beneath Alfred’s eyelashes.
Oh. Oh.
Alfred’s cock slips from Arthur’s mouth, and he surges up that strong body to tuck his hands under Alfred’s pillow and lace their fingers together. “I’m there with you now,” he whispers, quick, but enough to make out. “I pull your arms from the cushion - you can move them now, Alfred, do whatever you want with them.”
Those strong arms crush Arthur against Alfred’s chest, and Arthur leans forward and brushes his fingers over the crease of Alfred’s eyes to wipe away the wetness there. “Shh, it’s all right,” he whispers, kissing Alfred’s mouth, kissing all the way over to an ear. “Relax,” he whispers as Alfred shudders and sniffles, “relax, pluck the sadness off and flick it away. Melt into the chair, Alfred. I’m right here.”
He nuzzles Alfred’s temple, waiting for the release and slump of Alfred’s body before bending to kiss his mouth. “All right, then?”
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