Shabby Rooms
Title: Shabby Rooms
Author: kurasuperson
Pairing(s): Remus/Blaise
Rating: R
Words: 168
Warnings: Unbetaed first time PWP drabble
Summary: Sequel to The Quiet Ones.
His favourite part of Blaise was the section of his elbow where the funny bone resided. He liked to follow it with his tongue, where the skin dipped tightly into the bone.
They'd been meeting up irregularly since the first time. There was not much conversation. Perhaps it wasn't needed.
The rooms were shabby and anonymous, much as he appeared to be. But such intensity could be produced out of them that the shabbiness would disappear.
Everything would disappear but the feeling of skin on skin, next to skin, inside skin.
They slid against each other in varying degrees of gentleness and force. Tongue slid against skin, bone, sinew. Teeth grazed sharply over jutting hipbones, wrinkly balls.
Where fingers went, tongue, cock and fist followed.
Each time finished too soon. He had to get back, to job, to life, to wife, to leave passion behind. To leave him on the bed satiated and boneless sprawled against the sheets.
To leave him smiling, eyes half closed, knowing he'd be back.
Author: kurasuperson
Pairing(s): Remus/Blaise
Rating: R
Words: 168
Warnings: Unbetaed first time PWP drabble
Summary: Sequel to The Quiet Ones.
His favourite part of Blaise was the section of his elbow where the funny bone resided. He liked to follow it with his tongue, where the skin dipped tightly into the bone.
They'd been meeting up irregularly since the first time. There was not much conversation. Perhaps it wasn't needed.
The rooms were shabby and anonymous, much as he appeared to be. But such intensity could be produced out of them that the shabbiness would disappear.
Everything would disappear but the feeling of skin on skin, next to skin, inside skin.
They slid against each other in varying degrees of gentleness and force. Tongue slid against skin, bone, sinew. Teeth grazed sharply over jutting hipbones, wrinkly balls.
Where fingers went, tongue, cock and fist followed.
Each time finished too soon. He had to get back, to job, to life, to wife, to leave passion behind. To leave him on the bed satiated and boneless sprawled against the sheets.
To leave him smiling, eyes half closed, knowing he'd be back.