Round 1
Round 1
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Only too aware of the pressure of Charles’ cock against his own, even through the layers of clothing, he reached down, his mouth leaving Charles’ to lay insistent kisses down his neck as his hands worked furiously at the folds of velvet and silk. Charles wasn’t lazy, either, his hands coming up to pop open the buttons of Mike’s shirt then running over the expanse of his chest, brushing over the dusting of dark hair before teasing his nipples to hardness.
Mike gave a gasp, a bitten-off “fuck”, which made Charles grin as he slid his hands down now to unbuckle Mike’s belt and unzip his jeans - surprisingly adept for someone from an era before the invention of the zip - reaching round behind to pull down jeans and boxers together, and not remotely coy about letting his hands linger over Mike’s arse as he did so. He glanced down, briefly, then raised his eyes again, grinning like the cat who’d caught the proverbial canary.
“My, you are rather impressive, aren’t you?”
Several ripostes occurred to Mike at that moment, but none of them were half as satisfying as simply - “Yes.”
Just as he said it, he finally worked out the intricacies of Charles’ breeches, yanking them down with one hand and freeing the flushed erection. Immediately, Charles’ skinny hips came up to meet his, his cock brushing against Mike’s in a way that had white-hot explosions going off all through Mike’s nervous system. He moaned through tightly-clenched teeth, and pressed all his weight against Charles’, angling his hips and thrusting up.
“Oh!” Charles’ head fell back. “That’s it, Mike, just like that...”
Mike grinned against Charles’ exposed throat, then thrust up again - and again - his moans joining Charles’ as they moved together. It was all a bit confused, really: caught in a tangle of limbs - Charles’ arms thrown around Mike’s shoulders, one of Mike’s arms supporting Charles’ back and the other braced against the wall as he moved his hips against Charles’. Their cocks pressed and slid together, hard and hot and slicked by the first few drops of pre-come. Mike moaned, and heard it echoed slightly more shrilly by Charles, feeling the frustration build, the blunt pressure beginning to sharpen inside him into something more intense. He was close - he could feel it building - and he thrust his hips against Charles’ more desperately. Once, twice, and he was thrown wide, the pleasure bursting painfully behind his eyes. He swore, then heard Charles give a cry of his own, and suddenly they were coming together, clutching and gasping as they both went over the edge, and it was a good thing the dressing table was there to support them, or they’d have gone down in one sweaty heap.
It was only when Mike felt the last remnants of his orgasm fading away and he became aware of the real world again, that a dazed sense of horror took over him. He was in a dressing room of the Royal Albert Hall with his shirt undone and his trousers around his knees, his softening cock still pressed against that of King Charles II. God, and he’d been worrying earlier about sharing a drink with him!
Sharply, he pulled away from Charles, pulling up his jeans and doing them up hastily, before doing up the buttons on his shirt with numb fingers. Charles, however, didn’t seem remotely perturbed by what had just happened; in fact, he was still smiling that incorrigible smile of his as he reached over to the box of tissues in one corner, casually picking out one for himself and one for Mike as they cleaned off the sticky mess across their stomachs.
“Well, wasn’t that splendid?” he exclaimed, throwing the used tissue in the wastepaper basket and doing up his own clothes.
“With respect, Your Majesty, it shouldn’t really have happened -” began Mike, but Charles cut him off with a scoff.
“Oh, come now. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that!” He grinned impishly, and pecked Mike on the cheek. “And I promise you, it’ll be even better next time!”
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“Why, of course! I think we’ve formed a real rapport here today, you and I.” He readjusted his absurdly curly wig, then covered it with the flouncy hat from the door hook. “Unfortunately, though, I’d better dash. Don’t want to keep Sothers holding the fort by himself too long. But you know where to find me.” He turned back to Mike and winked. “I do hope I’ll have the honour of having HHTV send you to give me one of your delightful interviews soon!”
And with that, he was gone in a flourish of velvet and feathers and cheerful debauchery, the door shutting behind him, leaving Mike alone in the dressing room to pray that HHTV bosses never found out about what had just happened.
(Stupid LJ character limits. >.<)
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...Okay, so, coherency has been lost again buuuuut this was so freaking brilliant that I can only flail. Your Charles is just perfection, absolute perfection, and your Mike is just as perfect too. <333 I could really see them in my heads when I was reading this and, as a result, want to read this all over again. And then flail some more. And then flutter happily around my room for several hours. <333
This was so hot and so brilliant and thank you. I honestly wasn't expecting such a wonderful, lovely fill and yet this is absolutely perfect! And I think I may need to reread it a few times to let it sink in fully. <333
...Oh, and the thought of a repeat performance? YES PLEASE. <33
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Thanks! :DDD
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That's all I've got, sorry, you have melted my brain (and most likely my ovaries).
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