Connor has grown accustomed to making men sway to his desires - it was a game for which he found that he had a natural talent, and so he had mastered it. But it is for Oliver that he has needed to work the hardest, because what he desires is far greater than one night together, a tumble in the sheets like he has had with so many men who by the end of the week, the end of the month, did not matter anymore. What he needs from him cannot be obtained by only kissing the right spot, touching in just the right way.
That part he is still practicing.
He surrenders to Oliver, complying with the firm instructions implied in his touch. As he walks backwards, his ravenous lips find Oliver's once more, and his hands set to work on his shirt, soon tossing it aside. There is no mistaking the way his gaze dips over the other man's bared chest, rising then to his face. The face he misses waking up next to in the morning, the face he has missed kissing.]
And you don't know how much I wish you could see what I see right now.
[The beauty he sees in Oliver, but not the ugliness he hides inside himself.
When the back of his knees bump into the edge of the bed, Connor sinks into it, tugging Oliver down with him. In his impatience to make up for the time lost to silence and distance, he allows almost no time for the other man to even kick off his shoes. He needs to feel his weight on top of him, to be enshrined in his warmth. And when their bodies reconnect, his desire is apparent if not by the urgency of his lips then by the hard heat of his cock still trapped in his pants.]
[Oliver is every bit as desperate as Connor, so much it slows him as he fumbles to remove his shoes so he can fall back on top of Connor to kiss him without reservation.
He pins the other man by his arms, keeping him in place so that in this moment if nowhere else he's the one in control.
His lips are so eager they might both be bruised from kissing by the time this is through, but that in itself lends excitement. The idea of a subtle yet visible reminder of their night together. He struggles to hold back from rocking his hips, wanting to prolong this by a little, but restraint is difficult where Connor's concerned and he can't help but press down, heart rate quickening as their erections press together.]
[His chest expands with a sharp intake of breath as Oliver bears down on him, and his back arches to meet him, his whole body hungry. The pressure of Oliver's hands pinning his wrists to the bed makes him feel safe. It makes him believe that he will be taken care of.
Just as before, when his life has bucked his control to become a beast of its own, he depends on the man atop him to introduce sense where he can make none.
His teeth ensnare Oliver's bottom lip, tugging, demanding, and the more kisses he receives, the more he wants. His greed consumes him as he drives his hips upward, riding against the other man. From his lips spill sighs carrying Oliver's name - Ollie, Ollie, an endearment he savors - and in his throat hums his pleasure. There remain too many clothes between them, and he hopes that by the devious rhythm of his hips he can convince the other to strip away such hindrances.]
[It's intoxicating, having Connor beneath him like this again. It's simultaneously too much and not enough. He's missed this, the excitement that comes in hand with Connor and familiarity that came from their year together both.
He loves making out with him, but he's impatient tonight. He wants to progress. He looses his arms, breaking away from his lips, but only so he can begin to trail sloppy kisses down to his neck and collarbone. Even now he remembers where he is most sensitive, and those are the spots that he targets now.]
Stay there...
[He may not be restraining him physically, but he wants to maintain his control. Wants to feel like Connor is truly his.]
[His impatience suits Connor, who beneath his touch cannot stay still, whose whole body is alive with electricity. Beneath his skin feels like a storm cloud gathering, crackling with veins of lightning. Oliver's lips carve a path down the curve of his neck, and he shudders in anticipation.
That he has gone so long without Oliver's touch makes him all the more susceptible to it. He has squeezed pleasure from hundreds of men, but only one can do this to him. The rest have been like rain storms, while Oliver is the flood that could bring about the end of the world.]
I'm not going anywhere...
[His hands seek Oliver, his fingers fastening in his hair but finding too little to grip and dragging over his shoulders instead. It becomes easier to forget the bleak landscape his life has settled into, and to believe instead that the man atop him is the whole of his world.]
Edited (finds the html error ) 2017-09-07 03:04 (UTC)
[Oliver sucks and nips his way down his exposed torso like a starving man, hands exploring what his mouth has yet to reach until they come to rest on his hips.
He's hyper aware of his own cock trapped within the confines of his pants, but he ignores it for now, intent on ridding Connor of his above all else.]
[As soon as he feels Oliver's palms against his hips, he lifts them as if on command, demanding that he undo the fastenings of his pants and tug them off. Then they're gone, leaving his cock to strain against the fabric of his underwear. Connor flashes a sly grin at Oliver; all of this comes so naturally. As if they had never cut each other with their words and silences, which now fade like a bad dream upon waking.]
Come on, you next.
[Unrestrained by shyness he reaches for Oliver, his shoulders rising from the mattress in pursuit of this aim, his fingers finding the button and zipper, popping and pulling and bold enough to caress him through his pants before he begins to yank them down.]
[He wants to look over Connor once his pants are off, but he isn't given the chance and it's hard to complain when his touch feels so good. It cuts him off mid-protest, and after that he's only too keen to help him remove them.
His nerves are starting to make themselves known again, but he thinks better against voicing those now. They've argued enough, and he doesn't want to return to that so quickly. Instead of saying anything, he simply licks his lips, palming Connor firmly through his underwear before he pulls those down too.
He doesn't remove them all the way, just enough to reveal what he wants. With nothing now between Oliver and Connor's now freed erection he leans in to take it into the wet heat of his mouth.]
[He knows what Oliver will do before his lips even part over his cock - his intent is in he way he looks at Connor, and on his sweltering breath over his skin. But even so he gasps and, overpowered, his shoulders flatten against the bed. His back arches. His body stretches like a wave on the sea, rolling forward, and Oliver is the shore for which he reaches.
His hands are in his hair again. His name is on his lips, sinking into a quiet groan, an encouragement.
Somewhere in the haze that is becoming of his mind, he wonders if this is Oliver's way of doing penance for his remark that Connor cares about his friendship only when he's willing to suck his dick. He too seeks penance through his body, which is perhaps the only way he knows how when it comes to Oliver, as if all might be undone through the union of mouths and limbs and flesh.]
[His reactions spur him on. He isn't thinking about the spiteful things he's said in that moment. He wants to make things right with him, but his mind isn't on the specifics, not wanting to dwell on the fears still floating around in the back of his mind. If anything he's doing his best to push them back, though it's difficult to succeed completely.
He does his best to instead on Connor himself, enjoying the way he tastes and feels in his mouth. He's never had Connor's natural talent for making men come undone, but he's skilled enough and he his familiarity with Connor's body lends him a distinct advantage. He knows exactly how to work him up without pushing him over the edge. Even all these months apart haven't left him rusty. Even he's surprised by how easily it comes back to him.
He alternates between taking him deep and merely running his tongue along the parts he knows Connor to be most sensitive. One hand holds his hip, helping to keep the man beneath him in place. The other assists his mouth in bringing him pleasure.]
[He sinks into the rhythm Oliver builds like the ocean sinks into itself, one wave cresting while another dips, all of it part of the same body. His hips strain against Oliver's hand, his body craving the tantalizing heat granted by his mouth. His hands tug at Oliver's hair, letting him know how badly he needs him.
Connor could lie here for hours, subject to the whims of the man arched over him. He is not one to unravel all at once but slowly, letting the sultry haze of pleasure last and last, growing heavier and hotter inside of him. Then it is not for lack of stamina that he makes his next demand, but lack of patience.]
Ollie... I want you to fuck me...
[A groan breaks across his lips as his aching cock is plunged again into the depths of Oliver's throat. He looks at him down the length of his prone body, his eyes like the sky before a storm breaks, his voice low and breathy and clinging to Oliver's skin.]
[His words bring back his worries right back to the surface, and he freezes in in his ministrations before pulling back, hand still curled loosely around the base of his shaft.]
I didn't bring anything.
[He's stupid. So stupid. He knew exactly why he was coming here, but part of him wanted to be able to deny it. Part of him was sure it would be pointless to think they would get to this. The other part tried to tell him he was better than this.
He resents those parts of him now. It would have been better to leave disappointed than to be in the situation they are now.]
I didn't... I don't have condoms. Not here. I have some in my room. They're from the 90s , but it was like recent 90s so they should be okay.
[This isn't sexy. He's not making sense right now and he should have known this would happen. Finishing him off with a blowjob now is just going to feel unsatisfying for both of them, but going back to his room for protection seems awkward. And there's a good chance that somewhere between here and there one of them will think better of this. Right now that's a possibility that scares him.
He knows Connor's been with other men here already, but he also isn't sure where he'd have had chance to get his own protection. It's awkward to broach, and there's no answer here he's going to like, but it's better than avoiding the subject. It's better than missing out on being with him again.]
Do you have anything here? Or we can go back to my room...
[As Oliver fumbles with his words, Connor sits up so that he can take his cheek in his hand, steadying him. His fingers curl in the hair at the base of his neck, pleading with him to stay with him in the moment.]
Oliver...just relax.
[Much like the man with whom he is entangled, Connor fears that the moment they stop, this thing that they have built between them, that he has craved and sought for so long, will flee again like shadows scared away by the light. It comes as a cold twist in his gut, a sharp stutter in his heart, the fear that Oliver will leave him and he will be alone. It is a fear he had never known in the life he led before.]
I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't have you covered. [A breathy laugh pops at his lips.] Literally too, I guess. Hold on--
[He pushes gently at Oliver's shoulders and so that he can slip away, just enough to reach the edge of the bed. There he slides his underwear down from his thighs to let them fall to the floor, and then he fishes from the drawer what he's looking for. By some strange coincidence or stroke of luck, he had received a comically large box of condoms just the day before.
And with every movement of his body, he is mindful of the show he provides Oliver. He inhabits his body with a confidence that is palpable in the way that a planet is swathed in its own atmosphere. Returning to him, he flashes the small square package like a prize, and flashes a grin to go with it.]
I think these were supposed to be some sort of consolation prize.
[Oliver laughs, but it's still kind of strangled. He's pulled out of the moment despite himself, but Connor's someone he's never found it easy to resist. He's not deterred.
When his hands start to roam Connor's body again his lust is paired with affection. There's a tenderness there in the way he presses himself close, kissing the place where his neck meets his shoulder.]
It's a pretty good prize...
[He nips gently at the sensitive flesh beneath his lips, hand trailing down to cup the curve of the other man's ass.]
[When he feels Oliver's hands on him again, his heart rises like a buoy that must bob back to the surface when it's tugged underneath. Compelled by his touch, Connor flattens to the mattress once more, holding onto the other man's shoulders, anchoring himself. A sigh swells in his throat and his head falls back to welcome Oliver's lips to do what they will.]
Damn right you do...
[He reaches then for the waistband of Oliver's underwear, dragging his nails down the skin over his hip, hooking into the fabric and yanking sharply. He pulls it down only far enough that he can run his hand down the length of Oliver's cock, his touch teasing and fleeting like the lick of flames from afar, until he takes him into his hand and strokes. His skilled fingers work to coax Oliver into staying, into forgetting what came before and what could come later.]
[He can barely stand the teasing, but fortunately for him Connor takes him in a firm grip before it goes on long enough to protest. It's both a relief and more torturous all at once. It's been too long since Oliver was with another person. It's going to be hard to pace himself to make this last as much as he wants now his cock is getting attention.
His hand moves from where it's just teasing Connor's entrance in no time at all, wrapping around his wrist to stop him momentarily. His pupils are dilated and his voice breathy, but he does his best to sound authoritative as he meets the younger man's eyes.]
Get your lube. I want to watch you prepare yourself.
[He starts to whine when Oliver abandons his entrance to seize his wrist, putting their passions on pause - and although his rational side is sure it will be but a moment, his paranoid side, his needy side, both of which have swollen up in the weeks he has spent in the castle, fears that Oliver has changed his mind. Instead he is struck by that wild raw look, and that command that sends a shiver crackling up his spine.
Oliver's want is palpable, something heavy hanging over him like a night sky, something wide and vast that he wants to rise to meet. His response comes breathlessly.]
Have I ever told you how hot you are when you get bossy?
[He rolls onto his side and stretches to reach the drawer again, drawing from it a small bottle. Sitting up then, arranging himself carefully so as to give a good show, he is quick to slick his fingers and pin Oliver with his gaze.]
Don't take your eyes off of me.
[He leans back on one hand while the other hooks underneath his thigh and glides along the curve where it meets his rear. His chest rises and sinks with a steadying breath. His eyes lower and his teeth snag his lower lip as his fingers tease his own entrance. And all the while, he watches and listens for the other man's reaction, as if their bodies are connected and in touching himself he reaches Oliver too.]
[The intensity of the look is broken by Oliver's chuckle, and the soft grin that crosses his face.]
I won't.
[He looses his grip again, not taking his eyes off Connor even as he removes his underwear, the last piece of fabric coming between him and the man he desires. He looks absolutely beautiful laid out before him, and Oliver's breath hitches audibly as he admires him.
He wants to resist touching himself, but the temptation is too much. He can't help but give himself a brief tug as he reaches blindly for the condoms with his free hand. It doesn't give him much relief. His erection is aching to be inside him. Watching as Connor teases himself only increases his need for him. He has to hold himself back from touching, make himself sit back and truly enjoy the show being put on just for him.]
[Underneath the weight of Oliver's gaze, he pushes his finger inside himself and a gasp rises from his parting lips. He soon follows with another finger, slowly stretching himself. He works with the same finesse that he has treated many men to, and once he is ready to thrust his fingers in a languid rhythm, stroking his inner wall, seeking that sweet spot, he makes a show of how he enjoys himself.
His fingers curl in the blankets. His hips rock against his hand to help himself reach deeper. His head falls back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. From his lips stretches a groan. At this steady but torturous pace, his desire for Oliver, his need for another's touch, is soon growing unbearable.]
How do you want to take me?
[He looks at Oliver through his long eyelashes, his words carried on heavy breaths, his fingers not yet pausing.]
[Oliver watches him as if in a trance, captivated by the performance of the man before him. He wants to kiss him, touch him. He wants to fill him up so that he's the one causing him such obvious pleasure.
He opens the condom wrapper without looking, rolling it over his hardness as he waits for Connor to stretch himself. His tongue darts out to wet his lips at his words, shuffling forward almost unconsciously.]
Like this. I like seeing you.
[Maybe it would be better to make this more impersonal, but Oliver doesn't want that. Not tonight. Not when it's their first time together in so long.]
[He had mastered the art of disentangling his heart from his body. It is like keeping one's head above water while swimming: enjoying the cool caress of the water without ever having to delve in too deeply. Yet when Oliver draws closer, his heart is tangled in the moment and he feels ready to sink into the familiarity of him.
He tells himself that it's just another body leaning over him, just skin and flesh and a heart he knows too well. It's only sex - so what if it's with the man he loves more than he has ever loved anyone else, more than he loves himself? He tells himself that he doesn't care what they are to each other. (And in this moment, it is more or less the truth. He wants only to touch, to throw himself bodily into the oblivion of his desire.)
Grabbing a pillow to wedge underneath his hips, leaning back against the bed, he arranges himself for Oliver. His arms stretch out toward him, seeking something to hold onto.]
Come on...
[He shapes it like a plea, spurring the other man on.]
[But in spite of his words he's ready for this. He lines up his cock, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes inside. He's hot, and tight, and perfect in a way he'd almost forgotten. He holds himself still above him, allowing himself time to enjoy the sensation and Connor to adjust.
It isn't long before he starts to rock his hips. He goes slow, wanting to be able to draw this part out if he can.]
[Oliver fills him in the way that a sea fills a channel, slow and steady yet unrelenting in its raw power. He gasps for the initial breach, the joining of their bodies, and then groans as he takes on Oliver's girth. His fingernails sink into the shoulders of the man who looms over him, anchoring himself while inciting the other.
For a long sacred moment they are still except for their unsteady breath, and Connor is struck numb by the urge to tell him that he loves him. He doesn't want to complicate what is meant to be a simple equation: loneliness plus desperation equals fucking.
Then comes the moment when, like eyes adjusting to the dark, his body adjusts to Oliver's presence inside of it. Then there is no more thinking because the friction deteriorates his thoughts, and no chance for words because his mouth fills with a moan.]
[Those same words are on Oliver's own lips, but though he'd said them earlier he finds himself doubting whether he should say them again now. This is supposed to be something simple. Easy. They should talk more before returning to their relationship as it was, but he lacks Connor's talent for separating sex from feelings.
It isn't easy to refrain from using those forbidden words, and he can't resist showing him instead of telling. He kisses him tenderly. Too intimately for the situation, but he can't help himself. He's filled with love for the man beneath him, and if he can't express it through words then he has to in some small way. His hands roam Connor's body, lingering over the parts he knows he enjoys, though they don't fall to his erection pressed between them.
It is not without relief, however. As close as they are his stomach brushes his cock with every movement, and his thrusts are angled so as to bring Connor as much pleasure as he can.]
[He devours Oliver's kisses, tasting himself on the other man's lips, groaning against his mouth as together they move with the force of each thrust. His hands fall from Oliver's shoulders to instead hold onto the pillow on which his head rests, and his head turns away from the onslaught of Oliver's lips to let the kisses fall hot and thick against his jaw.
The men he had slept with since ending up in the castle, they had been tools by which he might carve away his loneliness and anxieties. And it would work for a time, but even in the wild throes of lust, the haze of pleasure would dissipate to reveal to him how empty it all was. He left those men's rooms unsatisfied: what was broken in him was no less broken.
With Oliver that emptiness never invades the moment.]
Yeah...just like that...
[His words stretch on a moan. Every noise that swells in his throat and crackles at his lips, he allows to spill out uninhibited. He is not at all ashamed to take pleasure in Oliver's cock filling him, striking him in just the right way, nor is he ashamed to tug at his own cock when it becomes unbearable to leave it alone.]
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Connor has grown accustomed to making men sway to his desires - it was a game for which he found that he had a natural talent, and so he had mastered it. But it is for Oliver that he has needed to work the hardest, because what he desires is far greater than one night together, a tumble in the sheets like he has had with so many men who by the end of the week, the end of the month, did not matter anymore. What he needs from him cannot be obtained by only kissing the right spot, touching in just the right way.
That part he is still practicing.
He surrenders to Oliver, complying with the firm instructions implied in his touch. As he walks backwards, his ravenous lips find Oliver's once more, and his hands set to work on his shirt, soon tossing it aside. There is no mistaking the way his gaze dips over the other man's bared chest, rising then to his face. The face he misses waking up next to in the morning, the face he has missed kissing.]
And you don't know how much I wish you could see what I see right now.
[The beauty he sees in Oliver, but not the ugliness he hides inside himself.
When the back of his knees bump into the edge of the bed, Connor sinks into it, tugging Oliver down with him. In his impatience to make up for the time lost to silence and distance, he allows almost no time for the other man to even kick off his shoes. He needs to feel his weight on top of him, to be enshrined in his warmth. And when their bodies reconnect, his desire is apparent if not by the urgency of his lips then by the hard heat of his cock still trapped in his pants.]
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He pins the other man by his arms, keeping him in place so that in this moment if nowhere else he's the one in control.
His lips are so eager they might both be bruised from kissing by the time this is through, but that in itself lends excitement. The idea of a subtle yet visible reminder of their night together. He struggles to hold back from rocking his hips, wanting to prolong this by a little, but restraint is difficult where Connor's concerned and he can't help but press down, heart rate quickening as their erections press together.]
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Just as before, when his life has bucked his control to become a beast of its own, he depends on the man atop him to introduce sense where he can make none.
His teeth ensnare Oliver's bottom lip, tugging, demanding, and the more kisses he receives, the more he wants. His greed consumes him as he drives his hips upward, riding against the other man. From his lips spill sighs carrying Oliver's name - Ollie, Ollie, an endearment he savors - and in his throat hums his pleasure. There remain too many clothes between them, and he hopes that by the devious rhythm of his hips he can convince the other to strip away such hindrances.]
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He loves making out with him, but he's impatient tonight. He wants to progress. He looses his arms, breaking away from his lips, but only so he can begin to trail sloppy kisses down to his neck and collarbone. Even now he remembers where he is most sensitive, and those are the spots that he targets now.]
Stay there...
[He may not be restraining him physically, but he wants to maintain his control. Wants to feel like Connor is truly his.]
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That he has gone so long without Oliver's touch makes him all the more susceptible to it. He has squeezed pleasure from hundreds of men, but only one can do this to him. The rest have been like rain storms, while Oliver is the flood that could bring about the end of the world.]
I'm not going anywhere...
[His hands seek Oliver, his fingers fastening in his hair but finding too little to grip and dragging over his shoulders instead. It becomes easier to forget the bleak landscape his life has settled into, and to believe instead that the man atop him is the whole of his world.]
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He's hyper aware of his own cock trapped within the confines of his pants, but he ignores it for now, intent on ridding Connor of his above all else.]
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Come on, you next.
[Unrestrained by shyness he reaches for Oliver, his shoulders rising from the mattress in pursuit of this aim, his fingers finding the button and zipper, popping and pulling and bold enough to caress him through his pants before he begins to yank them down.]
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His nerves are starting to make themselves known again, but he thinks better against voicing those now. They've argued enough, and he doesn't want to return to that so quickly. Instead of saying anything, he simply licks his lips, palming Connor firmly through his underwear before he pulls those down too.
He doesn't remove them all the way, just enough to reveal what he wants. With nothing now between Oliver and Connor's now freed erection he leans in to take it into the wet heat of his mouth.]
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His hands are in his hair again. His name is on his lips, sinking into a quiet groan, an encouragement.
Somewhere in the haze that is becoming of his mind, he wonders if this is Oliver's way of doing penance for his remark that Connor cares about his friendship only when he's willing to suck his dick. He too seeks penance through his body, which is perhaps the only way he knows how when it comes to Oliver, as if all might be undone through the union of mouths and limbs and flesh.]
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He does his best to instead on Connor himself, enjoying the way he tastes and feels in his mouth. He's never had Connor's natural talent for making men come undone, but he's skilled enough and he his familiarity with Connor's body lends him a distinct advantage. He knows exactly how to work him up without pushing him over the edge. Even all these months apart haven't left him rusty. Even he's surprised by how easily it comes back to him.
He alternates between taking him deep and merely running his tongue along the parts he knows Connor to be most sensitive. One hand holds his hip, helping to keep the man beneath him in place. The other assists his mouth in bringing him pleasure.]
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Connor could lie here for hours, subject to the whims of the man arched over him. He is not one to unravel all at once but slowly, letting the sultry haze of pleasure last and last, growing heavier and hotter inside of him. Then it is not for lack of stamina that he makes his next demand, but lack of patience.]
Ollie... I want you to fuck me...
[A groan breaks across his lips as his aching cock is plunged again into the depths of Oliver's throat. He looks at him down the length of his prone body, his eyes like the sky before a storm breaks, his voice low and breathy and clinging to Oliver's skin.]
I wanna be loud...make the neighbors jealous...
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I didn't bring anything.
[He's stupid. So stupid. He knew exactly why he was coming here, but part of him wanted to be able to deny it. Part of him was sure it would be pointless to think they would get to this. The other part tried to tell him he was better than this.
He resents those parts of him now. It would have been better to leave disappointed than to be in the situation they are now.]
I didn't... I don't have condoms. Not here. I have some in my room. They're from the 90s , but it was like recent 90s so they should be okay.
[This isn't sexy. He's not making sense right now and he should have known this would happen. Finishing him off with a blowjob now is just going to feel unsatisfying for both of them, but going back to his room for protection seems awkward. And there's a good chance that somewhere between here and there one of them will think better of this. Right now that's a possibility that scares him.
He knows Connor's been with other men here already, but he also isn't sure where he'd have had chance to get his own protection. It's awkward to broach, and there's no answer here he's going to like, but it's better than avoiding the subject. It's better than missing out on being with him again.]
Do you have anything here? Or we can go back to my room...
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Oliver...just relax.
[Much like the man with whom he is entangled, Connor fears that the moment they stop, this thing that they have built between them, that he has craved and sought for so long, will flee again like shadows scared away by the light. It comes as a cold twist in his gut, a sharp stutter in his heart, the fear that Oliver will leave him and he will be alone. It is a fear he had never known in the life he led before.]
I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't have you covered. [A breathy laugh pops at his lips.] Literally too, I guess. Hold on--
[He pushes gently at Oliver's shoulders and so that he can slip away, just enough to reach the edge of the bed. There he slides his underwear down from his thighs to let them fall to the floor, and then he fishes from the drawer what he's looking for. By some strange coincidence or stroke of luck, he had received a comically large box of condoms just the day before.
And with every movement of his body, he is mindful of the show he provides Oliver. He inhabits his body with a confidence that is palpable in the way that a planet is swathed in its own atmosphere. Returning to him, he flashes the small square package like a prize, and flashes a grin to go with it.]
I think these were supposed to be some sort of consolation prize.
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When his hands start to roam Connor's body again his lust is paired with affection. There's a tenderness there in the way he presses himself close, kissing the place where his neck meets his shoulder.]
It's a pretty good prize...
[He nips gently at the sensitive flesh beneath his lips, hand trailing down to cup the curve of the other man's ass.]
It means that now I get to be with you.
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Damn right you do...
[He reaches then for the waistband of Oliver's underwear, dragging his nails down the skin over his hip, hooking into the fabric and yanking sharply. He pulls it down only far enough that he can run his hand down the length of Oliver's cock, his touch teasing and fleeting like the lick of flames from afar, until he takes him into his hand and strokes. His skilled fingers work to coax Oliver into staying, into forgetting what came before and what could come later.]
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His hand moves from where it's just teasing Connor's entrance in no time at all, wrapping around his wrist to stop him momentarily. His pupils are dilated and his voice breathy, but he does his best to sound authoritative as he meets the younger man's eyes.]
Get your lube. I want to watch you prepare yourself.
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Oliver's want is palpable, something heavy hanging over him like a night sky, something wide and vast that he wants to rise to meet. His response comes breathlessly.]
Have I ever told you how hot you are when you get bossy?
[He rolls onto his side and stretches to reach the drawer again, drawing from it a small bottle. Sitting up then, arranging himself carefully so as to give a good show, he is quick to slick his fingers and pin Oliver with his gaze.]
Don't take your eyes off of me.
[He leans back on one hand while the other hooks underneath his thigh and glides along the curve where it meets his rear. His chest rises and sinks with a steadying breath. His eyes lower and his teeth snag his lower lip as his fingers tease his own entrance. And all the while, he watches and listens for the other man's reaction, as if their bodies are connected and in touching himself he reaches Oliver too.]
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I won't.
[He looses his grip again, not taking his eyes off Connor even as he removes his underwear, the last piece of fabric coming between him and the man he desires. He looks absolutely beautiful laid out before him, and Oliver's breath hitches audibly as he admires him.
He wants to resist touching himself, but the temptation is too much. He can't help but give himself a brief tug as he reaches blindly for the condoms with his free hand. It doesn't give him much relief. His erection is aching to be inside him. Watching as Connor teases himself only increases his need for him. He has to hold himself back from touching, make himself sit back and truly enjoy the show being put on just for him.]
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His fingers curl in the blankets. His hips rock against his hand to help himself reach deeper. His head falls back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. From his lips stretches a groan. At this steady but torturous pace, his desire for Oliver, his need for another's touch, is soon growing unbearable.]
How do you want to take me?
[He looks at Oliver through his long eyelashes, his words carried on heavy breaths, his fingers not yet pausing.]
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He opens the condom wrapper without looking, rolling it over his hardness as he waits for Connor to stretch himself. His tongue darts out to wet his lips at his words, shuffling forward almost unconsciously.]
Like this. I like seeing you.
[Maybe it would be better to make this more impersonal, but Oliver doesn't want that. Not tonight. Not when it's their first time together in so long.]
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He tells himself that it's just another body leaning over him, just skin and flesh and a heart he knows too well. It's only sex - so what if it's with the man he loves more than he has ever loved anyone else, more than he loves himself? He tells himself that he doesn't care what they are to each other. (And in this moment, it is more or less the truth. He wants only to touch, to throw himself bodily into the oblivion of his desire.)
Grabbing a pillow to wedge underneath his hips, leaning back against the bed, he arranges himself for Oliver. His arms stretch out toward him, seeking something to hold onto.]
Come on...
[He shapes it like a plea, spurring the other man on.]
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Patience.
[But in spite of his words he's ready for this. He lines up his cock, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes inside. He's hot, and tight, and perfect in a way he'd almost forgotten. He holds himself still above him, allowing himself time to enjoy the sensation and Connor to adjust.
It isn't long before he starts to rock his hips. He goes slow, wanting to be able to draw this part out if he can.]
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For a long sacred moment they are still except for their unsteady breath, and Connor is struck numb by the urge to tell him that he loves him. He doesn't want to complicate what is meant to be a simple equation: loneliness plus desperation equals fucking.
Then comes the moment when, like eyes adjusting to the dark, his body adjusts to Oliver's presence inside of it. Then there is no more thinking because the friction deteriorates his thoughts, and no chance for words because his mouth fills with a moan.]
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It isn't easy to refrain from using those forbidden words, and he can't resist showing him instead of telling. He kisses him tenderly. Too intimately for the situation, but he can't help himself. He's filled with love for the man beneath him, and if he can't express it through words then he has to in some small way. His hands roam Connor's body, lingering over the parts he knows he enjoys, though they don't fall to his erection pressed between them.
It is not without relief, however. As close as they are his stomach brushes his cock with every movement, and his thrusts are angled so as to bring Connor as much pleasure as he can.]
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The men he had slept with since ending up in the castle, they had been tools by which he might carve away his loneliness and anxieties. And it would work for a time, but even in the wild throes of lust, the haze of pleasure would dissipate to reveal to him how empty it all was. He left those men's rooms unsatisfied: what was broken in him was no less broken.
With Oliver that emptiness never invades the moment.]
Yeah...just like that...
[His words stretch on a moan. Every noise that swells in his throat and crackles at his lips, he allows to spill out uninhibited. He is not at all ashamed to take pleasure in Oliver's cock filling him, striking him in just the right way, nor is he ashamed to tug at his own cock when it becomes unbearable to leave it alone.]
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