Private SL: Untilt

[radicalliars]

Loker was running through the halls to the room number that Cal had sent to him. There were so many different scenarios running through his head now, worry a tinge to his thoughts. Monsters? He couldn't believe he was actually thinking that, but the more research he did into it, the more it seemed like the truth. And it wasn't as if that was

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[radicalliars]

Cal's right, of course, and Loker shifts in slight ways that's all admission at the accusations. This doesn't change how he feels, because he's always been interested in this side of Cal, in the one that got thrown out of Vegas, the one that took a Master's degree and the founding principles of the facial action coding system to conning people at gambling. Sometimes, he can't help playing to that side of Cal, and now he's somehow - impossibly - standing in front of him, and they're not really talking about it. Not like it's a problem, like it's a puzzle to solve, but that it should have been what Eli was talking about first.

His green eyes track the way he grins, the way it comes easier, there's not that beat, not the calculation before the gesture. He soaks it in, smiles back because he can't help it, there's a part of him that likes this, as much as he adores older Cal, has since he found his work while he was still in college, working on his Masters. He swallows as Cal eyes him, open and interested and warm, and it makes his pulse race, his heart feels like it lurches in his chest. Because Cal hasn't been like this. They sleep together sometimes, but there hasn't been this mixed in, the open way he looks at him.

And then he thinks Cal's flirting with him. He's not entirely sure, but is that? Is he? Eli's fairly certain of it as that teasing question about his pants hangs in the air. That slow swagger, that almost seems bigger than he is, but his eyes balance it, offers just the right amount of almost-threat and absolute assurance. Cal leans back, but it somehow almost seems to make the scant distance more striking.

Eli gasps, a flutter of his lashes as knuckles drag against his crotch, and he's half-hard, though it makes him feel strange. Because it's Cal, but it's different, and he's younger. Honestly, it's probably a little less weird from an outside perspective. There's not eighteen years between them like this, not that awkward fact that he tries not to think about that he's closer to Em's age than Cal's. This puts them on almost even footing, and his greens scan over Cal's body, eventually meeting his eyes.

"I'm not going to play you at poker."

But he's not really thinking about poker at the moment, either.

[cardsharpcal]

Loker's getting hard, and another grin steals across Cal's face as he turns his hand, palm pressed hard against him there.

"Nah, you're not..." his voice is low, it's almost humming, and it's not just the almost distant kind of casual sex interest he's shown up till now when he's about to take him down against the mattress or up against the wall. It's warm, and he's sidling in a little closer, looking up into Loker's face, and his hands are on him. He turns them around and pushes at him, gently, the kind of push intending to move him, edge him back to the table he'd just come from.

"I'm just going to straight take them..." he says, hands going to the waist of Loker's jeans and undoes the button and he's about to continue, unzipping and walking him backwards, but he stops. A hand bunches in the front of Loker's shirt because he's too bloody tall for his own good and pulls him down and he catches his mouth in a kiss. It's different than it usually is, though it's subtly so. It's possessive and exploring, but not in the way it has been that seems almost as though Cal's just collecting responses to stimuli in order to be able to trigger them again. It's looser, exploring for its own sake, like the part of him that made sex a negotiation somewhere along the way has lost its firm hold, and he's found the simple joy of it.

[radicalliars]

Loker can't help the way he gasps as Cal grins, presses a hand hard against his groin through the layer of denim. His voice is low, and god, it's hot. It's not like usual, not like when sex is imminent, and his voice drops with lust. It's warm, and there's something subtle in the way that he moves into Eli's space, hands moving to touch. Cal turns them around and pushes, edges him back toward the poker table. It's like there's a glimmer of interest, of something more or less than just carnal desire, and he's been aching for it so much that he can't miss it.

The words make him ache, the way that Cal says he's going to take them, and then hands are at his jeans, undoing the button, unzipping as he walks him backward. He wants this, because that interest is more pronounced, warmer, and he wants it, wants it all. Wants it as much as he wants the way their bodies somehow fit together, despite height differences and long legs. There's suddenly a hand in his shirt, pulling him down, and their lips meet and even this is different.

He leans into it, his arms going around Cal's chest, holding onto him as he kisses him back. There's exploration, and the way it seems like Cal is feeling it too instead of just cataloging the best ways to pull him to pieces. He murmurs, groans into the other man's mouth, because he needs this, and so he pulls him closer, his hands slipping and pushing up under the hem of his shirt.

[cardsharpcal]

Cal's hand moves up from where he's got hold of his shirt and fingers slip through his hair, grip his neck, hands grappling for him like he's searching for handholds to climb him. This isn't like it has been before. This is breathless and headlong and groping need. They're moving again, Cal pushing Eli towards the table, and Cal shivers obviously at the feel of hands slipping under his shirt. It doesn't quite tickle, but it's sensitive, like he was craving that touch and getting it shot through him like it's electric.

He wants to let Loker take his shirt off, because he wants to watch his face. He notices the difference. To Cal, it's dramatic. His face, of course, shows the years he's lost, but they're gone from his body, too. He's leaner, slender and wiry and by rights he doesn't look like he has any chance of being as solid and capable as he is so many years later, but he's always been in tune with his body, even at twenty-seven or so when it almost seemed that he hadn't quite grown into his hands and his face.

Cal's hands skim past the milimeter of exposed belly where Loker's shirt is too short and has been rucked up from their motion, and he's grabbing at the unbuttoned button-down and wrestling it clumsily down his arms. He's almost definitely lost the finesse, the way he seemed to command a situation like this and take the lead and make it seem effortless. Right now, he couldn't be further from that, so worked up and into it that he was practically falling over himself to get Eli undressed. 

[radicalliars]

God, Eli needed this. He needed Cal to want him like this, all jittery and eager and hands that rake through the curls of his dark hair and then grab at his neck, and he's leaning into it, into the touches, into the interest that's more than physical, even if physical is the best outlet. Loker murmurs soft and sweet as he brushes hands up Cal's ribcage, letting the shirt bunch and gather at his wrists as his hands slide up higher on his torso.

His body is more like Eli's, wiry and lean and not the sort of person you'd bet on in a fight, but he suspects that Cal's street smarts came at least in part from this era in his life, maybe earlier. He pulls away from his mouth with a gasp, a flutter of long lashes, and he nuzzles into the side of Cal's neck as he pulls his arms freee from the button-down. Then he's pulling away just enough to start trying to pull Cal's tee-shirt off, letting the fabric urge his arms. Too excited to waste the breath asking for it.

This is so much different, and he's wanted this. Wanted to feel like this, feel the way that Cal looks at him, interest that's a little less clinical, to where he's not wondering if Cal wont talk about it, because he's just taking Loker's attraction for what he wants. He dips his head in low, even with the tee-shirt not entirely off, and he's nipping playfully just below Cal's collarbone, leaning slightly against the edge of the table.

[cardsharpcal]

Cal's breath hitches when Eli's hands skim over his body, when his mouth and teeth skim his collarbone. He realizes part of how readily he's pursuing this now is his age, he's closer to his prime, sex is on his mind non-stop. Since this happened this morning, yeah, the first thing he did was take valuables off of everyone he could get in a room for poker, but he's been thinking of this moment practically since he woke up twenty years younger. He's been thinking about how good Eli's body will feel beneath his hands and his body, but more than that he's been wanting Eli's hands on him just like this.

Cal raises his arms and lets Eli peel his shirt off, and as soon as it's gone he's back on Eli, hands at the hem of his too-short t-shirt and tugging up. It's all action and reaction, back and forth, sparks of desire setting each other off. Eli bumps against the table and Cal edges closer since Eli has nowhere else to go, lets himself rub against his thigh so he can feel just how hard he is in his jeans already. They've only just kissed, unless you count the thorough grope Cal gave Eli, but if he's honest he's been on his way to hard since he sent Loker the text to get down here immediately. The idea came to him as he was relieving everyone of their valuables, how he wanted to bend Eli over the table, or push him down against it and draw those long legs up against his shoulders again. This table was for taking. That's what it all came down to when you stripped the risk away, it was give and take and reading bluffs and tells to find out who was doing the taking.

"Take off my jeans," Cal breathes, eyes bright with desire, pupils dilated. He's aching for the little brushes of Eli's fingers and knuckles as he undoes his jeans, pushes them down. Maybe his hands will shake with nerves or need and Cal likes that, too, and even though he's just asked Eli to strip him from the waist down, he's decided he can't wait and his hand returns to where it started, easing that zipper down the rest of the way, not grabbing at the pull like a sane person,  but just insinuating a finger in the zip and forcing it down so that he couldn't do anything but brush against him through the dorky cotton briefs Loker was wearing. 

[radicalliars]

Eli murmurs in hot pleasure as Cal's hands are on his body, touching at that exposed stripe of his belly under the hem of his shirt. He moans softly as Cal edges closer, pushes him more fully back against the poker table, grinds into his thigh, and he can feel how hard he is. God, this is different, and it's shocking and he wants it. His hands palming over bared skin, touching against the ink on his skin, exploring in a way he never has the chance to. He wants Cal to fuck him, and this was more breathless and needy than usual, because there was somehow more to it. He just hoped that he remembered, that this, like this, the warmth and the fascination and the almost-something still meant something when he changed back.

His hands slid down along his sides, down to the hem of his jeans, intending to strip him of his denims, but then Cal's hands are in Eli's pants and he pauses. His breath hitches, a low groan as Cal slides a finger into the zipper and forces it down, finger dragging against the front of his briefs. His breath is coming wild and needy, his eyes dilated, and there's a pause where he shivers, sways his hips against the edge of the table trying to help him get the denims down his hips.

Then Loker's all hands, grasping and moving and shaky fingers as he pops the button and tugs down the zip, hands catching jeans and underwear together and then trying to shove them down his legs. "Cal--" He's breathless, almost gasping as he tries to get the words out, forgetting about Cal's pants in favor of kicking off his own, pulling the other man inbetween his long legs. It's never been like this before, this desperate and nownowpleasenow. There were always too many layers, too much worry about what Cal wanted, or what he thought or if this meant anything. And there's something to how Cal looks at him, the way he smiles, and it makes his heart skip.

[cardsharpcal]

Right now, Cal can't remember why this hasn't been like this before. He knows it hasn't, and he knows it's been his his fault because it hasn't been Eli. Eli's been here, wanting just like this, all wide-eyed, breathless, desperate to be touched, and Cal played him like an easy mark. He'd short-changed him every time, kept on doing exactly what he always had with him, giving him just barely enough to string him along, keep him coming back, but never what he wanted, never enough to let him know that Cal was human, too.

Eli comes undone so quickly, and he loves to watch it, the way his breath hitches, the way he reacts to every touch, and it just makes Cal want to touch him, feel that firm skin beneath his hands, soft and shivering from the need to be touched.

Cal remembers at the last second that he stashed the lube in his pocket and he's got to grab it before his pants fall down his slender legs, and Eli's wasting no time in pushing them off. He snags the little bottle and sets it on the table, and now it's obvious to Eli that he'd planned this. As if that wasn't obvious before.

He kicks his pants off and lets Eli pull him close, pressing himself flush against his body and for a moment, that's enough, because they're both naked and Eli's hard and it's okay that the height difference means Eli's cock is pressed against his belly because Cal's is nudging between his legs. They're not quite lined up right, it'll be better when Loker's laid out on the table with his ass at the edge, but this is good. It's so much better than with jeans on.

Cal rolls his hips slowly, nudging against him because he has to feel something, and then it's all a tumble downhill. He's half-lifting, half-pushing Eli back onto the table, and just that much, just sitting back on it has them on more even ground. Cal takes a moment in the middle, here, when he'd rather be in Eli already, and kisses him hard because this isn't just sex, it's not just fucking on a table, it's more than that and it may be rushed and headlong but he needs to convey what he can't say just now, in the middle of it. When he pulls from the kiss, his hands skim down Loker's thighs, and he's lifting them up, he's maneuvering him towards the edge, supporting legs that have nowhere else to brace against and urging them up to that familiar place to gain leverage, Cal's shoulders. In short order, he's got the lube in hand again, and soon he's sinking one finger inside Eli's body. He'd go slower, but he can't, and he doesn't think Eli can either. 

[radicalliars]

It gets a grin from Eli when Cal grabs the bottle of lube from his pocket, placing it on the table. It clicks then, that Cal planned this before he texted, before the poker, before he even left his room. The thought warms him, makes him shiver, because he can't imagine older Cal at least letting on to something like that, something that might give him some ground to stand on in this awkward thing they've shared since that first night when he hadn't left, when they'd cuddled. He keeps trying, to have a conversation, to work out the lines, and figure out where he stands, but it's only now that he gets anything at all.

Eli groans, his head tipping back as Cal rolls his hips, and he's jerking his hips too, pressing into the contact and the friction, and the glorious feel of pressing in like that. Hands are grabbing at his body, lifting, pushing him back onto the table, and he's shifting, lifting and trying to accommodate. He kisses him back, hands catching on skin, curling in his hair briefly as they kiss, and Loker is gasping and needy as their mouths meet, giving everything away in the contact as he always does, affection and desire and need. Cal usually meets him less than halfway in this, but strangely, this time it's different. It occurs to him, with Cal's hands skimming over his thighs, that Cal means to fuck him on a poker table. He's pretty sure that he's going to let him, and there's a part of him that thinks that he wants it, that getting fucked on a poker table if far hotter than it should be. Maybe he's a little damaged.

He arches up a little, a fluttered moan as Cal sinks that first finger into his body, and Eli lifts his hips, presses back, because he needs this too much to be patient.

"Fuck, ah, please--" More. Faster.

[cardsharpcal]

Cal is getting off on Eli's obvious pleasure. All of it, the way his head tilts back at the friction, how he moves into him for more, and the sounds he makes, and how easy it is to earn those reactions. Cal still doesn't know if it's just the way Eli is or if this is how he is with Cal, though he wants to know, needs to know, and it's one of those things that's better discussed because the only other option is to try and stalk Eli into someone else's bed, and Cal doesn't want to share. He knows he didn't want to talk before, that he'd refused to, changed the subject, ignored explicit questions, anything in order to push a real conversation away. At the core of it, his feelings haven't changed. He's wondered since that first night if Eli would be like this with someone else, but before, he was content to go on what he could read off of him. Now, it's worth the risk to know, to talk about it, to open up, because there's nothing here for either of them. They're trapped in a prison designed to keep the world out, and they're both alone, and there's clearly something between them and Cal doesn't want to leave this unspoken.

Cal doesn't bother hiding his pleasure at the way Eli raises his hips up, presses into that one finger, because he's so obscenely into this, and it's gorgeous to watch his body beg for more. He gives it to him, one finger becoming two, scissoring, shallow and then deeper thrusts that curved and pressed against his prostate enough to curl his spine again, set his nerves on fire. He's not going for a third finger, because he knows that sometimes Loker doesn't want to wait through that much preparation, and this is obviously one of those times.

He spreads more lube over himself and then brings Loker's legs up to his shoulders and moves in close, hands dropping to his hips and tugging him a little beyond the edge of the table and now he's lining them up, a hand between them as he gets there and leans in, feeling Eli's body want to give and he applies pressure, slow, insistent, just waiting for Eli to relax for him to slip inside. One hand skims down a pale thigh, and he has the passing desire to distract him and curls that hand around his thick cock and gives him a few slow, perfectly teasing strokes, just the way Eli likes. Or more accurately, just the way that drives him mad.

[radicalliars]

Cal is so much more into this than he has been before. His pleasure is clear as Eli lifts his hips, a tremble in his body from how much he wants this. Because it's not just sex, because this is so much more than he's ever gotten from Cal before, and even if this is Cal twenty years younger, it's still Cal and it still matters to Loker. Because his affection, his feelings for Cal aren't just hero-worship and that awkward professor-student dynamic they've had since before they first met. He really... cares about him, wants him.

He moans softly, trying to focus on Cal's face, trying to watch the way that Cal looks at him as he touches him, as his finger stretch him for this. He wants to drink it all in, in case it doesn't last, some temporary thing that's gone with nightfall. Eli's always taking anything he can get. Two fingers, and then spreading, opening him up for it as they scissor inside of him. Those digits sink in deeper, curving and stroking over his prostate, and his back arches, his body jerking wanton and helpless against Cal's fingers with a sharp catch of his breath.

His legs hitch more fully over Cal's shoulders, ankles dangling as hands grab his hips, tugging him down past the edge so he can line them up, and the feel of the poker table against his back makes him shake. There's something about this, about being tossed down on the poker table like another part of Cal's winnings that's hotter than it should be. But not quite as hot as the attention, affection, the way Cal's giving him so much more. There's pressure, his cock insistent against his entrance, and Eli can't help that soft gasp, low whine of pleasure as his body gives and Cal sinks in. He wants to watch, wants to see more as their bodies fit together, but it's so good Loker can't keep his eyes open. Not with Cal pressing in, and that hand stroking against his cock, touching, has him all but writhing, arching and he's pressing back. He's pushing onto Cal's cock though he's not quite stretched enough to take it so fast.

It catches his breath, that brief flash of too much, and his eyes flutter, head tipped back and looking up at Cal with dark green eyes, his pupils blown as he lifts his hips and presses back a little more slowly, but still wanton, that edge of desperation. "Fuck, Cal.." His hands are dragging up his arms, touching, just needing to feel him.

[cardsharpcal]

It's too fast for him, but he's not asking to stop or slow down, he's moving into it, hips raising up, pressing back, legs used as leverage, muscles coiled and taut and he can feel them flex where there's contact, thighs against his chest, braced on his shoulders. His free hand strokes over his thigh again, to feel the smooth, firm strength there, takes a few passes that gives something away. Says he likes Eli's body, likes the way he moves, the way it feels when he's using Cal to brace against.

Both hands move to his hips, and he's aware of the disappointment as he abandons stroking his cock, that it had been good and winding the desire up tight in him and that slow build was dissipating now, but he needed his hands back. At his hips, they brace him, and Cal shifts the position of his body, leans forward over Loker, bringing his legs up with him, and hips follow with slow, steady pressure, and he's inching his way in and looking down into Loker's face. He still sometimes turns away, eyes closed when it's too much, but he wants to watch it all. Cal's not thinking about what if this goes away, he's thinking about how he's watched all of this before and somehow it never got through to him like it was now.

Then he's in all the way, and he can't stop touching him. He's not moving again, not fucking him yet, just keeping still for a second, as much to give Loker a chance to get used to this as to make sure he doesn't come in the first two minutes. He hasn't felt like that in years, like it's all too much to handle for very long, and he's clenching his jaw, hands gripped tight on Loker's thighs, stroking down to hips, up his sides, anywhere he could reach.

[radicalliars]

Eli murmurs as Cal's fingers strokes over his thighs, touching skin, lingering in slow trails of fingertips. It says things, sharper and more honest than he'd ever gotten from the version of Cal he'd always known before this. Fingers say that Cal likes his body, how it feels like this, and Eli clings to those silent declarations. Bodies say things, but Cal is so good at staying just out of reach that most of the time it feels like Loker's is the only one that says anything. Not now, and he's pressing closer with a catch of his breath.

There's a whimper on his lips as Cal's hand abandons his cock, and that tight, building pleasure starts to fade. Fingers instead grab at his hips, press hard into his hipbones as they brace his body, leaning over him as he slowly presses in. There's a soft cry of pleasure, Eli's body stretching tight around him, giving as Cal presses in, opens him up around his cock. He clings to him, moaning, his hands grabbing against Cal's chest, touching, needing to feel as he sinks in. He's trembling when Cal's finally all the way in, fingers shivering where they cling against his skin.

Eli's fighting to catch his breath, looking up at Cal, as unguarded as he always is in moments like this. It doesn't really matter if he gives it all away, because Cal knows anyway. He gasps, leaning into the hands on his skin, the way they slide from his thighs, over his hips, along his sides. He murmurs, a tilt of his head, eyelashes fluttering, still holding on to Cal.

[cardsharpcal]

Eli's so expressive, he lets himself react like he can't begin to try and keep it all in, the cries of pleasure or the little sounds he makes, murmured over his lips. Cal can't stay still for very long, he's got to move, and it's slow at first, hips rocking against Eli's, looking for the angle that hits him just so. It's not easy to focus because his attention keeps being drawn to Eli's face, the way his eyelashes flutter, the flush of color on his skin and lips.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathes, hardly aware he'd said anything at all, not aware it's a big deal or something different, something he wouldn't have said before now. He's too distracted to think that much now. He's not losing the twenty years, they're still there inside him if not on his skin, but he's lost what kept Cal reigned in, the uneven ground they were on.

He interrupts himself, the way the pace had begun to pick up, because he needs Loker's mouth. As he leans down and pulls him close, making Loker help bridge the distance between their lips, he's still moving, shallow and grinding against his hips and he's kissing him hungry and hard, fingers tight on his neck to keep him close enough. 

[radicalliars]

Eli moans as Cal starts to move, slow rocks of his hips, pulling back and thrusting in, and he leans into it, uses his legs on Cal's shoulders to press in against the slick friction of it. The way they move together, it's different somehow, the way that Cal seems as lost to the feel of this as Loker is. It's blissful and so very good. And then Cal breathes those words, and it makes Eli forget to breathe for a moment, a brief pause where he almost can't believe what he said. It makes him feel warm, flushes his skin just a little more at the idea that Cal thinks he's gorgeous.

He groans as Cal finds that angle, the pace not quite as slow as they find their rhythm, and then there's a lull, as Cal leans down, pulls Loker in close. Their lips sealing together, and Eli's leaning in, kissing him back hot and hungry, wanton, he kisses him like he needs it, and maybe he does. He's needed Cal for longer than he really wants to admit to, though he has a feeling that Cal probably noticed the day that it changed. It was a shift, from schoolboy adoration for the man behind the ideas, attraction, infatuation when he'd first become an intern, and at some point, after he'd started working for him... no matter how much he threatened it, he couldn't leave.

His hands manage to pull away from his chest, catching at the sides of Cal's face with soft fingertips, sliding into his hair as they kiss.

[cardsharpcal]

He finally has to pull away from his lips because he needs to move more than they are, needs to fuck Eli hard and watch him writhe beneath him, and the way he is when it's too much, like pleasure is electric and he can't handle it all. Cal squeezes Eli's wrist as he pulls it away from his longer hair and lets go, hand bracing down on the green felt of the table as he moves. He withdraws first, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in with a tight groan, feeling the way Eli's body reacts and tenses beneath him.

Then they really begin to move. Cal's fucking him and holding on to hips and thighs as Eli's using his legs and his body to meet him. The sound their bodies make is obscene, skin slapping against skin, and Cal's moan is rough and low. He needed this, just as hard as it is, quick and dirty over the poker table, just as much as he's going to need another round, not too much later, after he drags Eli back to his room.