Prompt Post 2
Welcome to the second round of the_eagle_kink .
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
Please see the rules before posting.
Please check our delcious account before prompting.
Happy Kink, everyone.
~CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS~
- MORE MOD NOTES: Alright guys I know this fandom is really into historical accuracy and all that jazz but here's the thing. This is a KINK MEME and therefore historical accuracy is not ( Read more... )
Marcus fervently wished that was the case. He wanted to tell Esca that it looked terrible and ridiculous. He wanted to laugh and say that perhaps Esca should go shopping with the women next time, it would certainly match his new clothing style. That the kilt didn’t make him extremely aroused and willing to do anything just to touch Esca at that moment in time.
So easy. So easy to just lift that up and out of the way.
But the idea of wiping Esca’s smile off his face was too horrendous to think about. The Briton, estranged in Rome, had so very little of his home to cling to, so little to show off to his friend, that even something so small like a kilt was obviously precious to him and Marcus had no right to ruin that. Besides, whatever negativity Marcus could possibly wrench up would have been a lie, anyway.
“Not at all.” Marcus hurriedly said, expression straining to remain neutral. Esca looked dubious, expecting his opinion.
The Roman had been caught like a deer in headlights when Esca had come in, stranded by his writing table. He now reached out blindly to grasp anything, to touch something, just to at least create the illusion that he was still a functioning member of society and not a lust/love-struck fool. A small carving of a boar Esca had made for him the other day fell into his grasp and Marcus instantly curled his fingers around it, hoping the feel of the rough wood underneath his fingertips would distract him, would solidify his resolve to resist.
Would Esca make any noises at being exposed? Would embarrassment dust his cheeks pink?
Marcus’s eyes then caught the swishing pleats still brushing gently against Esca’s knees and his spine practically shivered with a mix of emotions that were too muddled to identify. Every nerve in his body was suddenly on edge. His eyes practically twitched in their sockets, because while Marcus craved to run his gaze all over Esca, drink in the erotic sight, he forced himself to meet Esca’s hesitant stare instead, ignoring the want to step right across the small distance of the room, shove Esca against a wall, and have his way with him.
He urged his tongue to move in the proper way that it should to form the proper words.
Not ‘I think that kilt makes you extremely desirable. To me.’
Not ‘If you could come a little closer, I must examine the details of your kilt before I wrench it off with my teeth.’
Nor did he say ‘I would like it more if you pulled it up while I claimed your body for my own.’
Instead, he said, with a deep breath and solemn expression, “It brings out the color of your eyes quite well.”
Oh gods. Because that was obviously better than the other three options he had had in mind.
Esca blinked, looking down at his kilt in confusion. Marcus began considering what would be a better way of hiding his shame; walking away and plunging his head into a vat of boiling oil or asking the local army to trample him with horses.
“That’s very observant of you.” Esca finally said after what felt like ages of awkward silence, the corners of his lips twitching in what was unmistakably amusement. “You don’t think it looks womanly? I know it does not fit the fashion styles of Romans at the moment.”
“No, n-no.” Marcus cleared his throat hurriedly after his voice caught, his words coming out gruffly, “Not at all. There is nothing womanly about you, Esca, it is a very … noble garment.”
“It is a shame I cannot wear it more regularly.”
“You. You do not plan on wearing it often?” The innocent tone in Marcus’s voice was almost completely overshadowed with the poorly veiled disappointment. Still, it was helping that they were speaking, that Esca didn’t seem to notice how tense his friend was, that the hand gripping the carved poor was white-knuckled.
But he could do this. Soon, hopefully, Esca would be leaving with his sinful kilt and Marcus would be left in peace to his own devices and calming cold baths. And sexual thoughts of Esca.
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Esca was obviously indecisive about his kilt. He made a soft sound of frustration, “I am unsure. The cloth is very well made, it would surely be better to save it for celebrations and ceremonies.”
The Briton began tugging at the edges of the kilt, lifting it teasingly higher, inch by inch. He was picking at the material, considering it, but to Marcus, he was torturing him in an almost agonizing fashion, revealing more and more of his pale thighs. The Roman watched the upwards progress of it carefully, tongue running over his bottom lip until Esca allowed the kilt to fall from his fingers, hiding the tempting view. For a panicked second, he thought that perhaps he had given himself away, but Wwhen Marcus jerked his attention back to Esca’s face, he found the younger man simply smirking slightly.
“And yet it brings out my eyes, as you say, Marcus. When would you have me wear it?”
Every day. Every damn day.
“I would not want you to break tradition, Esca. Wear it at your own discretion. Though I cannot guarantee that other Romans will be as accepting of Briton tradition.”
In any other case, the reminder of Esca’s estrangement would have caused the former slave’s brow to furrow as he retreated back into his impenetrable mask, but to Marcus’s surprise, he smiled instead.
“Perhaps I will just wear it for your benefit, then.”
He was jesting, surely. Taking it as a joke, Marcus simply chuckled and shook his head, truing to play it off and ignore the potential flirtation in the phrase, just as Esca added,
“Actually, I may need your help right now in taking it off. The pin that I used to secure it with is difficult to use.”
Now Marcus wasn’t laughing. His entire body, which had finally started to relax, tensed all over again. First Esca had teased him, and now he was asking him to take his only article of clothing off completely? It was like the man was asking for Marcus’s control to snap.
Regardless of whatever Marcus wanted, Esca was already moving towards him, joining him by the table and turning around so that his back was to the other.
“The pin’s somewhere in the back.” He murmured, softer now that Marcus was closer. So much closer to the kilt-adorned, shirtless body. Holding his breath, Marcus reached out to skim over the high, tight cloth wrapped around Esca’s waist, eyes lingering on the back of his tanned neck before traveling down.
The material was soft, warmed by Esca’s body heat. Esca didn’t move as hands brushed over him, staring straight ahead instead. But he wasn’t completely silent. Marcus, still searching for whatever was holding the kilt up, was letting his hands roam as free as they possibly could. He kept one pressed to the skin just above where the kilt ended, the other brushed over the pleated back, sometimes straying into territory lower than necessary.
The first time he brushed over Esca’s bottom, the Briton inhaled sharply, twitching under his touch.
“Apologies.” Marcus mumbled, though he truly did not regret a thing. Esca merely nodded distractedly, waiting for him to continue. His back was visibly tense, though, one hand lifting to idly graze the edge of the table.
The small gesture made the Roman smile and reach out to stop Esca’s restless motions. Now as he grasped Esca’s hand, there was a more audible hitch of breath. It was those types of sounds that went straight to Marcus’s groin, made him bite his lip. He would have done anything to steam ahead with his primal instincts and just take Esca right there, but pride was just as strong a motivator. As was his need to keep his friendship with the Briton intact.
But with the way Esca was shivering under his touch, the fraying self-control he had over himself was wearing thin with the hope that perhaps Esca would not be so indifferent to the idea of being taken.
“Can you not find the pin?” The Briton turned his head to glance at Marcus over his shoulder. If Marcus wasn’t mistaken, there was the slightest hint of pink across his cheeks. Maybe. Just maybe.
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IT IS UNBELIEVABLY HOT, HUMOROUS AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN.
AND I HOPE TO GOD ESCA KEEPS IT ON WHEN THEY FUCK
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Kilts, man. Kilts.
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dude, i'm scottish. i *know*
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“Well. No.” Marcus admitted, now taking Esca’s hips with both hands and dipping his thumbs underneath the plaid material, thumbnail scraping along the skin. “But I’m also not in a hurry to get this kilt off of you.”
“No?” Esca’s ears were most certainly a shade of crimson now, his voice a little more breathless than before, though that may have been as a result of Marcus’s free hand slipping underneath the edge of the top of his kilt. “Then what exactly are you trying to do, Marcus?”
Marcus kept going, kept jumping through hoops he swore not to jump through, because Esca’s reactions were irresistible to draw out. Nothing in the Briton’s body language was telling him to stop, and that was fine with Marcus. But he was still hesitant. It would be so blissfully simple to take Esca where he stood, but it would be just as easy to scare the other man away.
Then again, considering Esca’s tough, fierce nature, perhaps that wasn’t actually the case. He attempted a blunt approach, lowering his voice to a husky murmur, “I’m trying to resist pushing you against this table and having my way with you.”
Marcus was still holding Esca’s hand and at this point, the smaller man’s fingers twitched in surprise. He moved in closer and continued, “But you’re making it very difficult by coming into my room without a tunic, asking me to help you take this kilt off for you.”
“That’s the point, Marcus.” was the soft, amused reply. Damn Esca. So stiff and aloof at times, keeping to himself. And yet other times, he knew exactly how to get under Marcus’s skin in all the right, albeit devious, ways.
With a disbelieving laugh, Marcus squeezed the smaller man’s hip, “The point? Are you saying that you purposely came in here to tempt me? To see me crumble?”
In a bolder but characteristic move, Esca took the initiative and laced their hands together, Marcus’s fingers fitting in perfectly with Esca’s slender digits. If there was ever a sign that perhaps his month of wooing and blatant attention had paid off, it was that. The Briton’s lip curled into a small smirk again.
“The compliment about my eyes was a bonus.”
“Sly dog.” Marcus purred as his mind scrambled to keep up to his libido, which had eagerly taken the reigns and decided to steer through most of Marcus’s next decisions. So slowly, he retrieved both of his hands and used them to grasp Esca’s hips and nudge him into the table, pinning him there. If Esca had come to be the embodiment of temptation, he had surely succeeded.
“You’re not going to take the kilt off?” The Briton glanced over his shoulder, surprised, “It’s going to get in the way.”
“Not if you hold it up.” He dragged one hand up Esca’s bare back, gently applying pressure to push him down until the smaller male was forced to clamp down onto the table for support, “I hope you wore this as per your customs, Esca.”
A visibly shiver rocked through Esca’s body as Marcus drifted a hand teasingly down the man’s side, smoothing the plaid material to the very edge before ducking underneath it to hit that precious pale thigh he had been dying to touch. It was tempting to leave his touches feathersoft, to tease and draw it out, but the situation was far more urgent. Perhaps later.
So instead of gently running his hands up Esca’s kilt, he pushed into the firm thighs and dragged his fingers up, taking the pleated material with him until it was bunched over over Esca’s exposed bottom.
“Hold it there.” Marcus murmured. Esca was quick to comply, reaching around to bunch up the extra material and pull it firmly to his stomach, keeping it out of the way. With a smile, the Roman appraised the firm twin cheeks he had just uncovered, noting the way Esca’s ears were bright pink and his knees were twitching in anticipation.
“Good boy,” he breathed out, mouth watering at the sight of Esca bent over a table, ass in the air, kilt around his hips. Thank the gods for British traditions.
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Instead, he said, with a deep breath and solemn expression, “It brings out the color of your eyes quite well.”
AHAHAHA, oh Marcus <3
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“I liked it from the second you showed it to me at the market.” Marcus confessed, running his heated hands along Esca’s backside and taking just the tiniest moment to savor the feeling of the firm flesh beneath his hands, massaging it, running his nails along his hips. Esca’s toes were digging into the stone floor as a result.
“You were imagining me wear it.”
The Briton was too clever and intuitive for his own good. And though he said this plainly, his head still dropped, face flushed with the idea. Marcus brushed his hands along the curve of Esca’s ass before smoothly dipping in and prodding briefly at the Briton’s entrance, no longer abashed at his own thoughts as he took control of the situation.
“I was. Though I was thinking of a slightly different … position.”
The teasing was making Esca tense, knuckles turning white from gripping the table and the folds of his kilt so desperately. He choked slightly, hair flopping onto his forehead from jerking a bit at the sensation, but continued talking. His speech was getting increasingly halting, words floating in his breath like he was sighing out his thoughts. “What position… was that?”
Marcus’s own voice had deepened, had taken on a gravely range that burned hot in his throat as he spoke. He couldn’t help himself; he had never seen Esca in such a vulnerable position, so under his control. Even as a slave, Esca had nearly been his own master. And now, the man was sprawled on a table because of a few touches.
His fingers continued to prod at the tight ring of muscle, his free hand slowly going around Esca’s waist to firmly grasp his erection, firmly pumping from base to tip. Esca moaned softly at that, torso sinking even lower to the desk as his hips pushed into Marcus’s hand, urging him to keep going.
Leaning over, the Roman brought his ear close to Esca’s, whispering “I imagined you were on top of me. Riding me as you held up your skirt, whimpering, crying for release.”
Esca’s eyelashes fluttered a moment, widening in arousal. His mouth fell open, head finally sinking to the desk because of the unbearable torture. “Nnnn. You assume a lot about my bedroom behaviors.” He gasped out, rolling his hips harder in hopes of encouraging Marcus to go faster, but the Roman simply locked his legs around Esca’s, continued to torture both his entrance and his cock.
“I took an intelligent guess.”
Another pained sound dropped from Esca’s mouth when he finally realized that Marcus was purposely making this as achingly torturous as possible, providing just enough pleasure but staying far enough away to make him crave more. Letting go of the desk or his kilt, however, were not options, so he was left at his former master’s mercy.
Instead, he started cursing softly in Gaelic, letting the words flow without pause. The curling, foreign words only made Marcus want him more, made him want to pound him into the table until he was crying out in his native tongue. With a grunt, he pulled away from the smaller man, eyes scanning the room for something he had never imagined he would ever use in this situation.
Only to find it clutched in Esca’s hand, being extended towards him, blue eyes staring expectantly at him, glazed with lust. “It was on the table.”
“Always prepared.”
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And of course, he was still loyally clutching his kilt to his stomach, the material framing his ass in black and blue plaid. Everything in Marcus’s body was screaming at him to pound into Esca immediately, to take him, to make him moan out those guttural noises he craved for. But if a second and third round were in the near future, it would be better not to tear the poor Briton apart from the first time.
So instead of that, Marcus draped his body over the other’s, pressing light kisses along his back as he took the hand Esca was clutching the table with and covered it with his own.
“I’ve spent a month trying to get your attention. What finally caught your eye?”
Esca was purring underneath him, chewing on his bottom lip in anticipation when he felt Marcus bite gently at his shoulder. “You mentioned how appealing I was back in the gladiator arena today. I was covered in dirt and blood, half dead. And yet-”
“And yet I was still drawn to you.” Marcus finished easily, scraping his teeth along one of Esca’s shoulder blade, teasing more quiet sighs out of him as the kilt material scraped pleasantly against his stomach.
“You said you had no use for me then. That you didn’t need a slave.”
“I didn’t.” Pulling away, Marcus let his oiled hand roam back down to the soft crevice of Esca’s backside, “I just needed you.”
The words made Esca’s body relax into putty, slumped over the table. With little warning, the Roman pushed a finger inside him at that exact moment. It went in easily enough, though Esca still squirmed slightly underneath him, hissing at the feeling as Marcus began stretching him, easily pumping his finger in and out of him.
Marcus considered saying something else, to perhaps fill in the silence between them, but it was impossible to make even erotic small talk while he had an Esca underneath him making enough sexual noise for the two of them. Instead, he went back to sliding his lips over Esca’s back.
Two fingers made Esca choke again, shuddering underneath Marcus. At three, Esca whined instead,
“Marcus. Please.”
The raw need, the raw lust in Esca’s hushed voice is almost enough to make Marcus hit release right there, staring at him still pushed against a desk looking ready to be fucked. Somehow, the fact that Esca was not completely naked, but still just blatantly exposing himself with the kilt clustered around his hips made the sight all the more arousing, made Esca look vulnerable.
“Please.” He repeats, hips jerking as some of the folds of the kilt fall to hang around his thighs.
Realizing that Esca has submitted to all of this so willingly means that the man has also allowed Marcus to take full control, the older man let the last of his self-restraints fall to join the trousers on the floor.
“Keep your head down.” He reached out to curl his hand around the back of Esca’s neck, fingertips brushing against his shaggy hair as he secures his hold in keeping Esca pinned to the table. Shivering, the Briton doesn’t wait and rolls his hips backwards, brushing his ass against Marcus’s erection, smearing some of the pre-cum.
Taking his heated cock, Marcus lined it up against Esca’s stretched entrance. Control, restraint, future sex escapades be damned, he couldn’t take this slowly. With one full thrust, Marcus shoved himself in to the hilt, getting hit instantly with the tight sensation, the scorching heat of being inside Esca.
Esca cried out in Gaelic again at the violent penetration, thrashing slightly in Marcus’s grip before he was shoved down more firmly. At least now, Marcus picked up some of the phrases that the Briton was spitting out, one of which being “Fuck me.”
Marcus needed no second bidding, in Latin, Gaelic, or otherwise.
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“More.” He gasped out at one point, spreading his legs out. “M-more, Marcus.”
His hair was getting messier and sticker as sweat set in, making everything slick. One particularly vicious push into his ass rattled him and as a result, the kilt fell from his twitching fingers. The wool cloth spread out over his back, dripping to his knees, tickling the sensitive skin just above Marcus’s cock. With a growl, Marcus shoved it back up again, curling his fingers into it to use as a grip.
He couldn’t stop. Esca was pulsating beneath him, meeting his thrusts eagerly every time, forcing him to go deeper. He had wanted this too long and was going to be done in such a short span of time, if the heat coiling in his belly was indicator enough. Keeping the kilt cloth in his hands, Marcus reached around to firmly take Esca’s dick, using the woolen material as added friction, rutting into him as his pace began to grow erratic.
“Nngh!” Esca practically clawed at the table, repeating a heated mantra of ‘Marcus’ and ‘yes’ and Gaelic versions of whatever else could possibly come to mind. He was just as intoxicated, garbling his words and struggling to find a balance between breathing and crying out in pleasure.
When Marcus swept his thumb across his slit through the cloth, the Briton bucked hard, pushing his hips both front and back to try and find the perfect sensation of getting fucked and getting jerked off.
“Marcus. Ghh-!” He suddenly spit out, eyes snapping open, mouth open as he panted for air. “Marcus, I need-”
The way Esca had been moaning his name was sinful enough, but the blue intensity of his sex-glazed eyes took Marcus over the edge. A groan was wrenched from him as he came hard into Esca, still shaking him with his powerful thrusts. Esca followed shortly afterwards with deep gasp, cock jerking in Marcus’s grip, effectively staining the kilt in the most indecent way possible.
Chests heaving, sweat glistening, the two slowly and stickily extracted themselves from each other. Esca gave up altogether, sliding to the floor in a slump, a dazed sort of grin on his face. Marcus went down more gracefully, sitting next to him whilst tugging his discarded pants over his groin to match Esca’s own easy decency; the kilt had created a tent when it was spread out on the ground, concealing even the mess Esca had made, though the Briton could feel it as he adjusted the garment, wincing.
They sat blissfully quiet for a moment, soaking in the satisfaction of a good … whatever that was.
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“That was a good way to spend your first Roman coin.” Marcus noted, catching his breath and wiping his hands down on his pants.
Esca looked confused for a moment, then snorted, “I did not just buy the kilt to seduce you, Marcus.”
At Marcus’s skeptical look, he shook his head and chuckled, “Obviously, I also bought it to enhance my eyes and I think it has paid off.”
“A single purchase that brings many rewards is a wise purchase indeed.” quipped Marcus, quoting his uncle and hoping that Esca wouldn’t catch that. To his surprise, the Briton firmly nodded in response,
“Indeed. Which is why we’ll have to go back tomorrow so that you may purchase your own kilt.”
Marcus didn’t like that idea. He didn’t like it at all. “What? Why?”
Marcus also didn’t like the mischievous grin spreading over Esca’s flushed face. The man was recovering quickly, already eyeing Marcus’s shirt with a hint of displeasure, as if he wanted nothing more than for that article of clothing to be gone so he could see the man completely bare.
“There’s no reason that you should have all the fun, Marcus. I’ll make sure you wear it for only the most formal occasions.”
Marcus laughed softly, “Such as the official banquet of you joining me in my bed?”
“And I’ll teach you how to put one on.” Esca added, eyes already fogging over with the prospect of putting Marcus in his place with his own kilt.
“Only if you can teach me how to take one off.
“Or perhaps we can learn through a set of trial and error.” The Briton, less wobbly at the knees now, abruptly stood, extending a hand to Marcus “Can the Roman handle wearing the kilt of my people?”
“Will the Briton join the Roman in wearing the kilt in the traditional fashion?” Marcus took the proffered hand, wrenching himself up while keeping his trousers securely on his crotch.
Smiling, Esca dragged Marcus towards himself until he could tuck his arms around the taller man’s waist, then reach down to playfully grip and squeeze his bare bottom, eyes shining with the promise of many other instances like this to come. As he leaned up on his toes to press his mouth to Marcus’s, he murmured the words that would seal the deal.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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fuckhot and hilarious.
and yes please please put it up in a thread! so i can stalk you in the future!
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Oh god please put this up on your LJ anon, I desperately want the full thing!!
This was insanely hot and also hilarious and i loved it so so much
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