moviesex (1/3)
anonymous
July 8 2010, 22:37:21 UTC
They're having moviesex, slow and liquid, and it's agonizing. Moviesex is pretty, but Arthur doesn't want pretty, he wants hard and fast, he wants to fuck and come; that's what he told Alfred at the club. He brings his hands from the pillow above his head to Alfred's hips, and before Alfred can say anything about touching or not touching or what kind of touching, Arthur bucks his hips up hard and fast, pulls Alfred down to meet his bucking hips, and instead of words coming out of his mouth, Alfred gasps, then rolls the sharp breath into a low moan.
"Is this what you want?" Alfred murmurs when he recovers, his voice husky for effect. It's not really a question, it's a tease; it's not really a question, and Arthur must know it because he doesn't offer an answer. Then, "Is this how you want it?"
This time it is a question, and Arthur answers: "Hands and knees."
A shiver goes through Alfred. He lifts himself off, feels Arthur's cock slide away, gets on all fours, and that's what Arthur said, hands and knees, but Alfred lowers himself to his elbows, wrists crossed in front of him, spine curving as he arches, offering himself to Arthur. He raises his head to glance back as Arthur kneels behind him, one hand on Alfred's hip, the other on his own cock. Alfred arches more, a little more than seems natural, legs spreading wider as he pushes himself back against Arthur, and Arthur slams into him hard and fast, starts fucking Alfred like that, hard and fast, hands on Alfred's hips, pulling Alfred back to meet each thrust, Alfred's cock slapping against his belly with the force of it. Alfred's hot and tight and slick around Arthur; Alfred's moaning and writhing, stretched and straining with want, head lowered to his wrists as Arthur fucks him, sledgehammer piston in and out, hitting that spot, sweet flood of rhythmic pleasure. Arthur's getting close, feels Alfred getting close, too; and then Alfred lifts his head from his wrists again, rolls it to look over his shoulder, and "Senseless, Arthur," he pants, "that's what you said: 'Come to mine tonight,' you said, 'and I'll fuck you senseless, 'til you can't move or think or even breathe.' You promised, Arthur..."
Letting go of Alfred's hips, Arthur slides his arm around Alfred's waist to pull Alfred up, flush against him, Arthur still hard inside him; he wraps his hand around Alfred's cock and starts stroking Alfred off, smooth, rapid, firm. His other hand is flat against Alfred's belly, sliding up to his torso. Alfred leans back into him, head turned towards him and they're not kissing, Alfred's just rubbing his cheek against Arthur wherever he can, appreciative, contented hum vibrating from his throat, his body; the hums and vibrations intensify until Alfred's body is singing and he comes, shuddering all over and crying out; and Arthur slows but doesn't stop, carefully massaging Alfred's come into his head, all along his length. Arthur hasn't come yet. He's hard inside Alfred and Alfred tries to wriggle, to push back more, clenching around Arthur, rolling his hips for Arthur; but Arthur holds him still, tells him to be still and just keeps stroking him until Alfred's hard again; until he comes again... and Alfred melts and Arthur starts again, until Alfred's melted, glazed... and then again... and...
...and Alfred's legs spread wider, his body slips down to lean entirely into Arthur, going weak, bones liquefied. His body can't support him, can't contain the pleasure; the rapture is taking him beyond his body, transcendent. Alfred's surrendered, abandoned, helpless, enslaved to bliss.
"Is this what you want?" Alfred murmurs when he recovers, his voice husky for effect. It's not really a question, it's a tease; it's not really a question, and Arthur must know it because he doesn't offer an answer. Then, "Is this how you want it?"
This time it is a question, and Arthur answers: "Hands and knees."
A shiver goes through Alfred. He lifts himself off, feels Arthur's cock slide away, gets on all fours, and that's what Arthur said, hands and knees, but Alfred lowers himself to his elbows, wrists crossed in front of him, spine curving as he arches, offering himself to Arthur. He raises his head to glance back as Arthur kneels behind him, one hand on Alfred's hip, the other on his own cock. Alfred arches more, a little more than seems natural, legs spreading wider as he pushes himself back against Arthur, and Arthur slams into him hard and fast, starts fucking Alfred like that, hard and fast, hands on Alfred's hips, pulling Alfred back to meet each thrust, Alfred's cock slapping against his belly with the force of it. Alfred's hot and tight and slick around Arthur; Alfred's moaning and writhing, stretched and straining with want, head lowered to his wrists as Arthur fucks him, sledgehammer piston in and out, hitting that spot, sweet flood of rhythmic pleasure. Arthur's getting close, feels Alfred getting close, too; and then Alfred lifts his head from his wrists again, rolls it to look over his shoulder, and "Senseless, Arthur," he pants, "that's what you said: 'Come to mine tonight,' you said, 'and I'll fuck you senseless, 'til you can't move or think or even breathe.' You promised, Arthur..."
Letting go of Alfred's hips, Arthur slides his arm around Alfred's waist to pull Alfred up, flush against him, Arthur still hard inside him; he wraps his hand around Alfred's cock and starts stroking Alfred off, smooth, rapid, firm. His other hand is flat against Alfred's belly, sliding up to his torso. Alfred leans back into him, head turned towards him and they're not kissing, Alfred's just rubbing his cheek against Arthur wherever he can, appreciative, contented hum vibrating from his throat, his body; the hums and vibrations intensify until Alfred's body is singing and he comes, shuddering all over and crying out; and Arthur slows but doesn't stop, carefully massaging Alfred's come into his head, all along his length. Arthur hasn't come yet. He's hard inside Alfred and Alfred tries to wriggle, to push back more, clenching around Arthur, rolling his hips for Arthur; but Arthur holds him still, tells him to be still and just keeps stroking him until Alfred's hard again; until he comes again... and Alfred melts and Arthur starts again, until Alfred's melted, glazed... and then again... and...
...and Alfred's legs spread wider, his body slips down to lean entirely into Arthur, going weak, bones liquefied. His body can't support him, can't contain the pleasure; the rapture is taking him beyond his body, transcendent. Alfred's surrendered, abandoned, helpless, enslaved to bliss.
tbc...
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