ticking clocks (3/?)
anonymous
July 14 2010, 05:51:07 UTC
Doubt is stricken from Alfred's smile. He's inside, on his knees and reaching for Arthur before Arthur has secured the lock, his hands at Arthur's belt buckle even as Arthur turns round. Drawing down Arthur's trousers and boxers, Alfred lets out a soft sound of frustration at Arthur's shoes. He laces them, lifting Arthur's feet one at a time as he helps Arthur step out of his clothing. Naked from the waist down now, Arthur feels oddly exposed in his shirt and jacket, more so than if he were completely naked. But Alfred doesn't undress him further. He wraps his hand around the base of Arthur's cock, kneeling up as he licks to moisten the shaft, kisses the head; takes Arthur into his mouth at last, sucking slow and gentle.
Arthur strokes Alfred's hair and Alfred glances up, his soft, soft mouth sucking Arthur. "You don't seem very sorry," Arthur says, smiling as he winds Alfred's forelock round his fingers. Sucking slow and soft, Alfred smiles around Arthur's cock. The sight of it, Alfred's smiling mouth moving in lazy, teasing strokes on his cock, makes Arthur's knees buckle. He leans back on the door for support, still looking at Alfred who is looking at him, just holding Arthur in his mouth now and licking the underside. The forelock slips free as Arthur's fingers slide through Alfred's hair to the back of his head. "A little more apologetic, please, Alfred," Arthur says, cradling Alfred's head with both hands.
Alfred smiles wider before he starts sucking again, really sucking, hard, like he's starving, as if he's been starved; his cheeks hollow and needful, desperate sounds come from deep in his throat, from deeper than he's taken Arthur. Arthur watches Alfred's mouth on his cock, his lips soft and tight around it, his mouth so hot, so wet; Arthur watches Alfred but Alfred's not watching back, he's just letting Arthur look at him; Arthur watches Alfred's mouth, and the need on Alfred's face does as much for Arthur as the physical sensation of Alfred's soft, tight, hot, wet mouth.
He can't stand it, the sight, the sensation. Body tensing and weakening, he falls back, letting the door catch him. One hand splays flat against the door, the other still in Alfred's hair, moving with Alfred's head as Alfred's mouth fucks him, as he fucks Alfred's mouth. Arthur's full weight is on the door, his hips rising off and slapping back as Alfred's mouth makes love to him, licking, sucking, swirling, stroking, slick, hot, wet, more, always, please, yes-
Since Arthur is supported by the door and he's not standing, not really, he can raise his foot and not fall. So he moves his foot to Alfred's lap and toes Alfred's erection. Alfred shudders; his shudder vibrates through his body everywhere, in his mouth, on his tongue and onto Arthur's cock. Moan muffled by Arthur's cock lodged in his throat, Alfred shudders but doesn't come, nearly loses the rhythm but recovers. Taking his hand from Arthur's hip, he gently sets Arthur's foot back to the floor.
"Want to make you feel it, too," Arthur grinds out softly, moving his foot back to Alfred's lap. Alfred's hand follows, but only to undo his fly this time. Careful as he adjusts his angle on Arthur's cock, he kneels up and cups his hand under Arthur's foot as he wriggles out of his jeans as far as he can. Frustration strangles in his throat, unwilling to relinquish Arthur's cock, and he reaches for Arthur's other hand, wordlessly urging Arthur to hold his head so Arthur can fuck his mouth while Alfred uses his own hand now to tug his jeans down past his knees. He settles back, hands resting on Arthur's thrusting hips as he spreads his legs for Arthur's probing foot. Arthur obliges, kneading Alfred's balls, running callused toes along his shaft.
Moaning continuously around Arthur's cock, Alfred deepthroats him insistently, convulsively, begging for it without words, begging with each convulsion, each pleasurable spasm; begging for Arthur's orgasm, for Arthur's come. And when it starts the part of Arthur that can still think, thinks that when Alfred is asking so nicely, Arthur shouldn't give so violently; but Arthur's body isn't thinking, isn't considerate or considering; Arthur's body is convulsing, shuddering and thrusting and jerking, coming in violent spurts.
Arthur strokes Alfred's hair and Alfred glances up, his soft, soft mouth sucking Arthur. "You don't seem very sorry," Arthur says, smiling as he winds Alfred's forelock round his fingers. Sucking slow and soft, Alfred smiles around Arthur's cock. The sight of it, Alfred's smiling mouth moving in lazy, teasing strokes on his cock, makes Arthur's knees buckle. He leans back on the door for support, still looking at Alfred who is looking at him, just holding Arthur in his mouth now and licking the underside. The forelock slips free as Arthur's fingers slide through Alfred's hair to the back of his head. "A little more apologetic, please, Alfred," Arthur says, cradling Alfred's head with both hands.
Alfred smiles wider before he starts sucking again, really sucking, hard, like he's starving, as if he's been starved; his cheeks hollow and needful, desperate sounds come from deep in his throat, from deeper than he's taken Arthur. Arthur watches Alfred's mouth on his cock, his lips soft and tight around it, his mouth so hot, so wet; Arthur watches Alfred but Alfred's not watching back, he's just letting Arthur look at him; Arthur watches Alfred's mouth, and the need on Alfred's face does as much for Arthur as the physical sensation of Alfred's soft, tight, hot, wet mouth.
He can't stand it, the sight, the sensation. Body tensing and weakening, he falls back, letting the door catch him. One hand splays flat against the door, the other still in Alfred's hair, moving with Alfred's head as Alfred's mouth fucks him, as he fucks Alfred's mouth. Arthur's full weight is on the door, his hips rising off and slapping back as Alfred's mouth makes love to him, licking, sucking, swirling, stroking, slick, hot, wet, more, always, please, yes-
Since Arthur is supported by the door and he's not standing, not really, he can raise his foot and not fall. So he moves his foot to Alfred's lap and toes Alfred's erection. Alfred shudders; his shudder vibrates through his body everywhere, in his mouth, on his tongue and onto Arthur's cock. Moan muffled by Arthur's cock lodged in his throat, Alfred shudders but doesn't come, nearly loses the rhythm but recovers. Taking his hand from Arthur's hip, he gently sets Arthur's foot back to the floor.
"Want to make you feel it, too," Arthur grinds out softly, moving his foot back to Alfred's lap. Alfred's hand follows, but only to undo his fly this time. Careful as he adjusts his angle on Arthur's cock, he kneels up and cups his hand under Arthur's foot as he wriggles out of his jeans as far as he can. Frustration strangles in his throat, unwilling to relinquish Arthur's cock, and he reaches for Arthur's other hand, wordlessly urging Arthur to hold his head so Arthur can fuck his mouth while Alfred uses his own hand now to tug his jeans down past his knees. He settles back, hands resting on Arthur's thrusting hips as he spreads his legs for Arthur's probing foot. Arthur obliges, kneading Alfred's balls, running callused toes along his shaft.
Moaning continuously around Arthur's cock, Alfred deepthroats him insistently, convulsively, begging for it without words, begging with each convulsion, each pleasurable spasm; begging for Arthur's orgasm, for Arthur's come. And when it starts the part of Arthur that can still think, thinks that when Alfred is asking so nicely, Arthur shouldn't give so violently; but Arthur's body isn't thinking, isn't considerate or considering; Arthur's body is convulsing, shuddering and thrusting and jerking, coming in violent spurts.
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