Private Trouble at the gate [M]
- Thread starter Laric
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He laughed, and let go. Of the hair, stroking down Laric's back until his warm fingers steadied against the waist. Of the hand, withered phalanxes splaying, fanning as he offered his wrist for the binding. Oh, the binding.
He swallowed and tried not to think about a tightening shackle of metal pressing against the forearm bone, about the cut and carve and falling hammer, and the sickening sweet scent of rust and lilacs. 'Watch, or I will snip your eyelids loose.'
A cold rushed through him, breath hitching and mind drifting unanchored for a moment before he snatched it, grounded it on sheer willpower. He was in Thornhall, under his lover tying something around his wrist, the echoes of a slow kiss still fading at his mouth, the heat almost tempered into cooling under his skin with the flood of memory.
Who else had he allowed to his neck, his blood - willingly?
One who found him.
One whom he found.
By the legacy neither should have been suffered to live.
I want to forget.
The scent of sage flared as the heart raced, eyes sinking closed for a moment, before a smile resurfaced on the lips, faint and faultering.
"Then have me." From the waist, the warm hand snuck under the shirt, uncompromising, trekked up the abdomen. There were no pretty words, not yet. He craved more, sensations that did not belong anywhere else, touch that would help him anchor again. Fingers found the knot at the breeches, tugged, fumbled, managed to start loosening it. "What is this rope, tomcat? It feels strange." He tugged, tried to rotate his wrist in the binds.
He swallowed and tried not to think about a tightening shackle of metal pressing against the forearm bone, about the cut and carve and falling hammer, and the sickening sweet scent of rust and lilacs. 'Watch, or I will snip your eyelids loose.'
A cold rushed through him, breath hitching and mind drifting unanchored for a moment before he snatched it, grounded it on sheer willpower. He was in Thornhall, under his lover tying something around his wrist, the echoes of a slow kiss still fading at his mouth, the heat almost tempered into cooling under his skin with the flood of memory.
Who else had he allowed to his neck, his blood - willingly?
One who found him.
One whom he found.
By the legacy neither should have been suffered to live.
I want to forget.
The scent of sage flared as the heart raced, eyes sinking closed for a moment, before a smile resurfaced on the lips, faint and faultering.
"Then have me." From the waist, the warm hand snuck under the shirt, uncompromising, trekked up the abdomen. There were no pretty words, not yet. He craved more, sensations that did not belong anywhere else, touch that would help him anchor again. Fingers found the knot at the breeches, tugged, fumbled, managed to start loosening it. "What is this rope, tomcat? It feels strange." He tugged, tried to rotate his wrist in the binds.
He was drifting in the comfortable, drowsy, lust-painted fog. Thoughts slid past lazily, with only one true focus that the senses turned to. When his hand was taken away from tangling with the lacing at the lover's groin, he emitted a token noise of apprehension, and chuckled. Humor grew faint at the tangent about the rope - but all the same, Walter maintained a pleasant tone as he echoed back,
"You are but untrained. We can fix that. My artificery is gone, love... But it does feel good on me. You fixed it well."
The slow, unhurried roll of the hips, the intrusion of the mouth that Walter hoped was leaving pink marks of where attention got too intense. He moaned low, half-hard taking in the scent of Laric's skin and hair, acutely aware of him. There was only him, and things immediately next. The rest of the room sunk into the unimportant space beyond the heavy wooden frames.
Eyes tracking the lover's sudden departure, Walter tried to move after him. So far as the rope disallowed him, and he remained in an awkward position, abdomen tensed to keep his upper body elevated from the bed. A few beats, a slow relinquishing of posture onto the bed as Laric returned, advanced to between Walter's parted knees. Eyes lingered, glinting in the darkness, slid from the man's collarbone down the chest and abdomen to the moving thigh seeking purchase.
"You are a sight."
A moment of surprise, a curious, excited hum into Laric's lips as he toyed with the parting kiss, just the tip of the tongue tracing the blond's upper lip in an attempt to guess what made the kiss colder all of a sudden.
Surely not the lack of blood.
The thought strained taught and snapped.
Teeth grazing excited him more than the cool mouth did, it seemed - a shiver, a twitch towards, in anticipation, almost plea. Warm fingers brushed against Laric's cheek ever so softly, curled under the jaw, then slipped behind the ear, stroked idly at the base of the skull, along the hairline. Stilled, once his last clothing item was undone, and Walter curled his upper body forward again, just to watch those lips wrap around him once again. He was already quite along the way to rousing, heartbeat pulsing against the lover's tongue. Head lolled back, his body sinking back down, pressing into the bed, and he gasped, then moaned - a low, languid noise.
"M-mf..." Teeth pressed into the lower lip as it pulled from underneath, pale then darker after the blood returned to it. It was... confined, the way Laric was handling him. The fabric felt too thick, too harsh compared to the pleasuring mouth. "Oh, you feel so good-" He tensed, hips almost moving involuntarily to thrust deeper into that sweet mouth, push against the back of the throat. "...so good, when you move that tongue just- ah, gods..." Fingers stroked between Laric's shoulderblades, gathering strands of hair loosely as his fingertips slid against the skin. Didn't take long at all to get him hard, and fully distracted from everything but the lover. He squirmed a little in the confines of his own clothing, trying to send it lower down his hips, quite impeded by the fact that Laric was still there, in place.
That scent of sage wasn't incense or soap. It drifted from the skin, mingled with the almost phantom slight hint of sweat on someone who dutifully bathed before disturbances all the way back in the morning. At least, Walter still tasted human as he relaxed under the patient hands, noises of encouragement and pleasure erupting from his lips wordless.
"You are but untrained. We can fix that. My artificery is gone, love... But it does feel good on me. You fixed it well."
The slow, unhurried roll of the hips, the intrusion of the mouth that Walter hoped was leaving pink marks of where attention got too intense. He moaned low, half-hard taking in the scent of Laric's skin and hair, acutely aware of him. There was only him, and things immediately next. The rest of the room sunk into the unimportant space beyond the heavy wooden frames.
Eyes tracking the lover's sudden departure, Walter tried to move after him. So far as the rope disallowed him, and he remained in an awkward position, abdomen tensed to keep his upper body elevated from the bed. A few beats, a slow relinquishing of posture onto the bed as Laric returned, advanced to between Walter's parted knees. Eyes lingered, glinting in the darkness, slid from the man's collarbone down the chest and abdomen to the moving thigh seeking purchase.
"You are a sight."
A moment of surprise, a curious, excited hum into Laric's lips as he toyed with the parting kiss, just the tip of the tongue tracing the blond's upper lip in an attempt to guess what made the kiss colder all of a sudden.
Surely not the lack of blood.
The thought strained taught and snapped.
Teeth grazing excited him more than the cool mouth did, it seemed - a shiver, a twitch towards, in anticipation, almost plea. Warm fingers brushed against Laric's cheek ever so softly, curled under the jaw, then slipped behind the ear, stroked idly at the base of the skull, along the hairline. Stilled, once his last clothing item was undone, and Walter curled his upper body forward again, just to watch those lips wrap around him once again. He was already quite along the way to rousing, heartbeat pulsing against the lover's tongue. Head lolled back, his body sinking back down, pressing into the bed, and he gasped, then moaned - a low, languid noise.
"M-mf..." Teeth pressed into the lower lip as it pulled from underneath, pale then darker after the blood returned to it. It was... confined, the way Laric was handling him. The fabric felt too thick, too harsh compared to the pleasuring mouth. "Oh, you feel so good-" He tensed, hips almost moving involuntarily to thrust deeper into that sweet mouth, push against the back of the throat. "...so good, when you move that tongue just- ah, gods..." Fingers stroked between Laric's shoulderblades, gathering strands of hair loosely as his fingertips slid against the skin. Didn't take long at all to get him hard, and fully distracted from everything but the lover. He squirmed a little in the confines of his own clothing, trying to send it lower down his hips, quite impeded by the fact that Laric was still there, in place.
That scent of sage wasn't incense or soap. It drifted from the skin, mingled with the almost phantom slight hint of sweat on someone who dutifully bathed before disturbances all the way back in the morning. At least, Walter still tasted human as he relaxed under the patient hands, noises of encouragement and pleasure erupting from his lips wordless.
He saw Laric staring at him in that hungry way that betrayed the lack of temperance. He was enjoying himself, painting pictures in his head that Walter could not touch nor feel, and getting drunk on the excitement of it. Head fogged with lust, just off the edge of coming close, Walter still caught on to Laric being... quiet? He tilted his head to the hand in his hair, looking back, face relaxed, but eyes rarely blinking, as if watching Laric was part of it, somehow. A noise of approval, and he tried to breathe, let the lover make his way in.
Must have been a while since he'd last... It took a slower approach, and still fingers grabbed Laric's shoulder, a jumbled, hoarse plea to go a little slower whispered between heated mouths. Guidance, taking a few moments to adjust before releasing the grip of his only hand, as he could only hope he wasn't causing Laric discomfort.
A paced start, clearly struggling with the impatience Walter could as well recognize in himself when he was younger. And then, teeth sunk in. Walter's eyes snapped open, stared past the golden mess of hair curling between his grasping fingers into the ceiling. He fell quiet, too, lips parting with shallow breaths, doing his best not to tense up.
It was according to the rules he'd set. Laric was allowed to call the shots.
It was Laric. He didn't have to brace for a draining bite.
Tears glimmered dim on the dark eyelashes, eyes closed tightly. Let it be read as pleasure, he prayed, his own lip catching under the biting paired fangs. Hoping that with the right friction, he'd get close to the edge again, turn into a thoughtless beast in a rut. He'd like to be. He'd like to be drunk, like the last time, the intoxicated fog to wrap around their scents mingling together, the puffs of breath colliding, sent down along their bodies by the friction.
Must have been a while since he'd last... It took a slower approach, and still fingers grabbed Laric's shoulder, a jumbled, hoarse plea to go a little slower whispered between heated mouths. Guidance, taking a few moments to adjust before releasing the grip of his only hand, as he could only hope he wasn't causing Laric discomfort.
A paced start, clearly struggling with the impatience Walter could as well recognize in himself when he was younger. And then, teeth sunk in. Walter's eyes snapped open, stared past the golden mess of hair curling between his grasping fingers into the ceiling. He fell quiet, too, lips parting with shallow breaths, doing his best not to tense up.
It was according to the rules he'd set. Laric was allowed to call the shots.
It was Laric. He didn't have to brace for a draining bite.
Tears glimmered dim on the dark eyelashes, eyes closed tightly. Let it be read as pleasure, he prayed, his own lip catching under the biting paired fangs. Hoping that with the right friction, he'd get close to the edge again, turn into a thoughtless beast in a rut. He'd like to be. He'd like to be drunk, like the last time, the intoxicated fog to wrap around their scents mingling together, the puffs of breath colliding, sent down along their bodies by the friction.
Walter's lips parted, but nothing but puffs of exhales for a beat as he gathered his thoughts. A vague notion of worry touched him through the fog - maybe if he was to voice it, voice anything, everything would end. His lower lip emerged from under the teeth, dark spots marking where his teeth sunk in to counter-balance the intensity that raised too quickly, dug against his mind.
"Just a little slower, love," he dared a whisper, pressed a kiss against the wandering lips, breathed against the cheek, "I- it's...just... been a while." He couldn't say much, a little overwhelmed, but his body spoke for him - quick succession of things he'd welcome to balance out pleasure, mounting with too much ache. Didn't break the deal. But he hasn't been under someone for a while, to say the truth, and it was suddenly a contrast to a few prior times - that Laric stopped at all. To check on him.
...a thought struck Walter that he needed that more than he wanted the claiming bite.
And now, it felt like if he admitted he didn't anticipate it quick and rough would certainly swing impressions to the opposite... which wasn't true. He welcomed the bite, so long as he was not struggling to adjust. He'd hoped they'd use more than spit unless they had to go without... at least he could be less sober, so the world would loosen at the edges, and any ache would not register as much.
There was nothing he could say that was true and wouldn't crack the moment more. He didn't want Laric to stop. This was a long day of being teased, of expectations being set, and now Walter craved relief, however it would come, so long as pleasure outweighed the pain. He could think about it later. He would feel about it later.
He moved the restrained shoulder, pulled arm against the restraint to shift against Laric just a little.
"Please don't stop," he pleaded, free hand capturing Laric's nape to let the shaky breath brush against the other's lips between kisses. "Please, please don't stop." Because they could still salvage, surely, everything, so long as they just got going again. "I want you."
"Just a little slower, love," he dared a whisper, pressed a kiss against the wandering lips, breathed against the cheek, "I- it's...just... been a while." He couldn't say much, a little overwhelmed, but his body spoke for him - quick succession of things he'd welcome to balance out pleasure, mounting with too much ache. Didn't break the deal. But he hasn't been under someone for a while, to say the truth, and it was suddenly a contrast to a few prior times - that Laric stopped at all. To check on him.
...a thought struck Walter that he needed that more than he wanted the claiming bite.
And now, it felt like if he admitted he didn't anticipate it quick and rough would certainly swing impressions to the opposite... which wasn't true. He welcomed the bite, so long as he was not struggling to adjust. He'd hoped they'd use more than spit unless they had to go without... at least he could be less sober, so the world would loosen at the edges, and any ache would not register as much.
There was nothing he could say that was true and wouldn't crack the moment more. He didn't want Laric to stop. This was a long day of being teased, of expectations being set, and now Walter craved relief, however it would come, so long as pleasure outweighed the pain. He could think about it later. He would feel about it later.
He moved the restrained shoulder, pulled arm against the restraint to shift against Laric just a little.
"Please don't stop," he pleaded, free hand capturing Laric's nape to let the shaky breath brush against the other's lips between kisses. "Please, please don't stop." Because they could still salvage, surely, everything, so long as they just got going again. "I want you."
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"Yes," he breathed back, relief coloring the whisper as searching eyes did not find derision. A bit of frustration, he could easily understand.
Laric wouldn't know what it meant, though if he was tracking signs, he'd probably caught chasing the dark off, probably caught the smile slipping - not for anything Laric did, but for the fear of the past repeating. And in this moment, there was gratitude, and relief, and they echoed through him with every kiss.
"Thank you," Walter's mouth moved in response to the reassurances, breath catching into a moan, moan resonating into a kiss pressed against the hungry mouth. He held Laric by the nape just for a moment longer, to kiss the mouth, and look into his face. The intoxicated expression lost the mark of worry, the weight of trust finally placed.
Laric moving lower, he moved after him, the upper body rising so his hand could trek through the hair, loosely pulling at the straings and freeing them from the splayed fingers. A palm brushed between those shoulders, the ring and middle finger pushing a stroke on either sides of the spine. He noted the reach, reclined, the folds in the sheets suddenly prominent against his back.
That hand bringing them together, a slow, delicious movement together in the grip of Laric's fingers, spreading the oil to make them rubbing against each other more pressure than catching friction - made Walter move his hips as he expressed his delight, perhaps, a bit louder than he should even with walls of solid stone and thick doors. His own hand slid to the side, manipulated the vial until he felt the oil drops sliding down his fingers; and Walter slid his hand right between them to join Laric's, wrap around both their members moving in that trap tighter, adulation as a barely audible 'yes' sliding off the lips after the wordless exclamation.
There was no resistance to the intruding fingers, after a sliver of a beat that would confirm to Laric - yes, just a brief moment to acknowledge the different touch.
"Yes..." he gasped, swallowed. "Please. Sheathe into me. I want to feel you coming undone." Lips parted, pressed together for a moment, nostrils flaring on an inhale.
Laric wouldn't know what it meant, though if he was tracking signs, he'd probably caught chasing the dark off, probably caught the smile slipping - not for anything Laric did, but for the fear of the past repeating. And in this moment, there was gratitude, and relief, and they echoed through him with every kiss.
"Thank you," Walter's mouth moved in response to the reassurances, breath catching into a moan, moan resonating into a kiss pressed against the hungry mouth. He held Laric by the nape just for a moment longer, to kiss the mouth, and look into his face. The intoxicated expression lost the mark of worry, the weight of trust finally placed.
Laric moving lower, he moved after him, the upper body rising so his hand could trek through the hair, loosely pulling at the straings and freeing them from the splayed fingers. A palm brushed between those shoulders, the ring and middle finger pushing a stroke on either sides of the spine. He noted the reach, reclined, the folds in the sheets suddenly prominent against his back.
That hand bringing them together, a slow, delicious movement together in the grip of Laric's fingers, spreading the oil to make them rubbing against each other more pressure than catching friction - made Walter move his hips as he expressed his delight, perhaps, a bit louder than he should even with walls of solid stone and thick doors. His own hand slid to the side, manipulated the vial until he felt the oil drops sliding down his fingers; and Walter slid his hand right between them to join Laric's, wrap around both their members moving in that trap tighter, adulation as a barely audible 'yes' sliding off the lips after the wordless exclamation.
There was no resistance to the intruding fingers, after a sliver of a beat that would confirm to Laric - yes, just a brief moment to acknowledge the different touch.
"Yes..." he gasped, swallowed. "Please. Sheathe into me. I want to feel you coming undone." Lips parted, pressed together for a moment, nostrils flaring on an inhale.
Lips parted, pulling in an inhale, eyes studying Laric as he moved with that fluid, almost feline grace. A noise of agreement as words were running out once again. His hand moved on Laric's cock when the oil spilled, spread it before letting go and leaving a smudge of oily sheen up his abdomen and to the side. His eyes caught it in the darkness of the room, that comfortable darkness that his senses could cut through, and he regretted that there were no lanterns.
Head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth inviting as he felt the lover slowly claim him anew, Walter did not give pause now. And with the more deliberate rhythm, every bit of friction was so much clearer and so much more delectable. The noises that left Walter's lips were quiet, restrained - but that his knees rose and parted to accommodate more, that his hand clasped Laric's shoulder to pull him in and shifted to the nape to claim his mouth when it had claimed his name.
"Laric..." the lips moved when the kiss parted, a smile parted lips in the darkness. He welcomed the fingers on his throat, studying the curves. He tilted his head to the grip in his hair, a mellowed excitement flooding with heat among the sparks of pleasure. Such an easy addiction to gain.
When Laric shifted against him to get a better angle, Walter seemed to chuckle, pulled the only bound hand and tried to find purchase with the opposite arm to buck into his hips, a leg rising to rest calf against shoulder, waiting for a cue of stroking fingers or a movement to approve the thought or not. He wondered if it was for Laric adjusting to be able to pick up the pace, himself. Another leg wrapped around the blond's waist, and a heel dug playfully into the small of the back.
"-Feel so..." the baron's lips disappeared for a beat under the teeth. "...mh... would you like to move me, darling?"
Head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth inviting as he felt the lover slowly claim him anew, Walter did not give pause now. And with the more deliberate rhythm, every bit of friction was so much clearer and so much more delectable. The noises that left Walter's lips were quiet, restrained - but that his knees rose and parted to accommodate more, that his hand clasped Laric's shoulder to pull him in and shifted to the nape to claim his mouth when it had claimed his name.
"Laric..." the lips moved when the kiss parted, a smile parted lips in the darkness. He welcomed the fingers on his throat, studying the curves. He tilted his head to the grip in his hair, a mellowed excitement flooding with heat among the sparks of pleasure. Such an easy addiction to gain.
When Laric shifted against him to get a better angle, Walter seemed to chuckle, pulled the only bound hand and tried to find purchase with the opposite arm to buck into his hips, a leg rising to rest calf against shoulder, waiting for a cue of stroking fingers or a movement to approve the thought or not. He wondered if it was for Laric adjusting to be able to pick up the pace, himself. Another leg wrapped around the blond's waist, and a heel dug playfully into the small of the back.
"-Feel so..." the baron's lips disappeared for a beat under the teeth. "...mh... would you like to move me, darling?"
Neither of them were those boys that flaunted swordplay anymore, or tussled in a mess of tangled bodies without direction.
Perhaps, if fate had it different, all those years ago, if a circumstance had them understand each other's preference, if... Perhaps, if Laric had his want then, there would be enough time before they matured, time spent meandering through life's trials and other, novel temptations.
Now, the galvanized want was reaching its peak after so much waiting, and they were at the edge of that cliffside again. Hold tight or plummet and get lost in the rushing tides.
Walter - wanted. Laric's hands soothed him with the smooth warmth of skin whispering against skin, asserted dominance with a languid tug at his hair. His thoughts were all merged into that want, the need to feel their bodies fit tightly against each other.
His senses have been electrified, a boon and a bane, and when Laric picked up the pace - that friction almost overwhelmed him, head tilted back, throat pushed into the gripping hand. Walter welcomed it. The scars didn't matter, the pain wouldn't matter half as much, and though his arm was getting pinpricks of falling asleep, not a glimpse of thought visited about himself not being whole.
Words of praise sunk in but didn't register, though clear the intent.
He was closer now, almost whimpered at the pause and rolled over as he was maneuvered, not unlike an animal desperate in a rut, his cock hard between the parted thighs. Exposed himself more, tilted the hips with open invitation, sunk his burning face into the pillow, the end of a goose feather made its way through the fabric pricking against the cheek.
He muffled a moan against it moments later, feeling Laric fill him out again. Heart paced fast against the fingers on the throat, and it could be easy to read - a familiar tension of the orgasm drawing closer by with every faster-paced burst of movement. The bound hand gripped the headboard, knuckles white.
Last desperate shreds of restraint, a tightening wrap of muscle against the rising friction. Laric could feel Walter trembling against him, trying to delay the impulse that answered so well to the stimulation that it tore the muffled, quieter wavering cries from him, pleading for no further pause.
He was so excruciatingly close.
Perhaps, if fate had it different, all those years ago, if a circumstance had them understand each other's preference, if... Perhaps, if Laric had his want then, there would be enough time before they matured, time spent meandering through life's trials and other, novel temptations.
Now, the galvanized want was reaching its peak after so much waiting, and they were at the edge of that cliffside again. Hold tight or plummet and get lost in the rushing tides.
Walter - wanted. Laric's hands soothed him with the smooth warmth of skin whispering against skin, asserted dominance with a languid tug at his hair. His thoughts were all merged into that want, the need to feel their bodies fit tightly against each other.
His senses have been electrified, a boon and a bane, and when Laric picked up the pace - that friction almost overwhelmed him, head tilted back, throat pushed into the gripping hand. Walter welcomed it. The scars didn't matter, the pain wouldn't matter half as much, and though his arm was getting pinpricks of falling asleep, not a glimpse of thought visited about himself not being whole.
Words of praise sunk in but didn't register, though clear the intent.
He was closer now, almost whimpered at the pause and rolled over as he was maneuvered, not unlike an animal desperate in a rut, his cock hard between the parted thighs. Exposed himself more, tilted the hips with open invitation, sunk his burning face into the pillow, the end of a goose feather made its way through the fabric pricking against the cheek.
He muffled a moan against it moments later, feeling Laric fill him out again. Heart paced fast against the fingers on the throat, and it could be easy to read - a familiar tension of the orgasm drawing closer by with every faster-paced burst of movement. The bound hand gripped the headboard, knuckles white.
Last desperate shreds of restraint, a tightening wrap of muscle against the rising friction. Laric could feel Walter trembling against him, trying to delay the impulse that answered so well to the stimulation that it tore the muffled, quieter wavering cries from him, pleading for no further pause.
He was so excruciatingly close.