[ John will feel Charlie smirking against his mouth. He enjoys getting signs that John likes what he's doing, okay. And that's...
Well, for obvious reasons, that's different enough from any noises the King ever made.
His fingers keep moving lightly: they map the muscles of John's upper back, then find the valley of his spine and follow it down, in no particular hurry to do more than enjoy the journey. ]
[ He will notice the rumble goes up and down, follows the way his fingers move, practically like a purr. He'll feel that smirk and he'll get kissed a little more insistently because you're an asshole, sir, of course he likes your hands. How many times does he have to say it? ]
[ Until Charlie gets tired of hearing it! And so he'll be saying it until the end of time.
Fascinated by the eldritch purr, Charlie brings one hand to John's cheek and runs it through his beard, down through the thinner hair under his chin, and further down his throat. His thumb ghosts back and forth over the prominent crown marking on the way, though that's mostly a subconscious thought. ]
[ Charlie sighs happily at that and tilts his head a little to give John easier access, looking down at the expanse of him through half-closed eyes. He moves one hand again over the hill of John's adam's apple and down into the smooth nook between his throat and collarbone; the other hand, the one that's wandering, slips around John's absurdly beautiful waist to touch the small of his absurdly beautiful back. ]
[ John just... unwinds under his hands, kissing him as an afterthought as he facilitates as much of Charlie exploring him as Charlie is wont to do. He could sit here forever and just be touched, with love, with delight, with whatever Charlie is feeling because his touch is good.
It's a good thing he can't read the narration, though, because he'd point out that Charlie might be a little biased. ]
[ They go on like this for a while, as gradually Charlie settles back into himself. He's glad for it. He's glad they're doing this instead of letting his embarrassing outburst sour the end of John's visit. He's glad he gets to take his time now; the scenery looks different in quiet appreciation than in impatient lust, though it's just as lovely in both. He's glad he gets to touch John like this at all. He refuses to wonder whether or not he'll get the chance again.
Presently he tilts John, gently, onto his back on the bed, the better to pepper him with soft, exploratory kisses all over his throat and upper arms and chest, mouthing at him here and there, seeking idly for places he likes to be touched the best. ]
[ His favorite spots are the ones he's touching, when he's touching them. It's like being asked for his favorite spoonful of ice cream. They're all delicious, and he's melting into the bed in warm bliss as Charlie goes about his exploration. ]
[ His grin gets tender, though his tone stays just as smug-cat-satisfied. ]
Hey, ain't every day I get a Greek goddamn statue in my bed. [ Did John know that his mouth is also in kissing distance? Because it is and it's getting kissed. ]
Ah, you're right, you wouldn't fit into onea those little fig leaves.
[ Charlie is lying across John's chest at a diagonal, the better to languidly move himself between exploration and kisses. He casts a significant look over his shoulder to further down John's body when he says that.
Enough time has passed that he's starting to feel the prickles of returning interest. He starts paying more attention to them when he hears the wanting note in John's kiss. Is it a good idea to do so? Absolutely not. But fuck, that was incredible, and he actually felt human for a bit, even if it all came crashing back in with interest afterwards. Would he do it again? He doesn't know how to answer--
[ God, someday he's got to figure out how John turned bafflement into a method of seduction. Charlie deadpans his answer, though there's a gleam in his eye and another smirk pulling at his mouth. ]
Stuck 'em on the statues, so folks wouldn't see their maypoles sticking out and get all hot and bothered.
[ Though even with all that going on, Charlie's smirk and that gleam in his eyes has definitely made a certain maypole start reacting in interest. John will answer how he turned bafflement into a method of seduction as soon as Charlie tells him how his smiles and grins and smirks do the same. ]
[ That surprises Charlie into a short, but bright, laugh. ]
Yeah, kid, I'm talkin' about penises. [ For purely illustrative purposes, one of his hands is now drifting over the abdominal muscles that were clenching so well for him earlier. ]
[ Another glance towards John's maypole, noticing the developments down there, which make certain internal parts of Charlie warm up and hum. He traces his hand a little lower, as if he's in no more hurry than before, with no more of a destination in mind, and as if it's a total coincidence his fingers brush just past John's cock without actually touching it. His other hand -- whose elbow is propping Charlie up somewhat, much as he'd be happy to just plank across John's chest -- plays idly with John's hair. ]
[ The soft hand playing with his hair will make those golden eyes close soft and slow, languid and happy as a cat in the sun. The brush of fingers gets a soft intake of breath, teeth pressed to his lower lip, and one of those eyes opening suspiciously to see what Charlie's up to. ]
[ Charlie raises his eyebrows a fraction at him, the picture of innocence, now massaging his fingers into John's skin in a cascading pattern that once again stops just before the base of John's cock. ]
[ John doesn't believe a gesture of it, but it makes him smile, soft and warm, just before another small intake as his lips redden from his teeth pressing harder.
The maypole is definitely up and ready for a dance, though.]
[ The combination of John's smiles and his reactions is filling Charlie's head all over again with ideas about what he could do to him and his rosy bitten lips. He's starting to stiffen himself, and he watches John with a long exhale and a slightly open mouth. ]
Aw hell, you.
[ As much as he can, he's removing these moments from any previous context and just living in them. It's a skill he's had to hone in order to function and right now it's coming in clutch. Sometimes, when reality might crumble into something else in the next five minutes anyway, you enjoy a good thing while you've got it as much as you possibly can. ]
You.
[ He strokes his fingers softly up one side of John's cock, and down the other, and gently rolls his sack in his fingers; he shivers, and kisses John's nipple and then his collarbone and then his throat, and by then he's at John's ear. ]
I wanna sit on your cock and slide down it till you can see it coming outta my throat. I want you to fuck me so well I can't sit down for a month. I wanna fuck your mouth until you miss me whenever your throat is empty. I want you under my desk with your face between my legs until I got nothin' left to shoot but air. [ His fingers are still moving over John's cock, slowly, lightly, trembling like his voice. ] I want your cock in the back of my throat, I wanna get fucked into the floor with it, I want bruises. I wanna swallow so much of your cum that I look like I'm carrying your goddamn child. [ A wanting noise in his throat, that turns into: ] You.
[ He thought the most devastating thing Charlie could do to his self-control was those kisses. Like a smile he gets to feel on his skin, the way his lips find just the right spot feels like magic all on its own. The hand on his cock is good, very good, but obvious. An easy target. He's prepared for Charlie stroking him there and exploring below, but the kisses are targeted bursts of sweetness that make him feel like he's melting.
Then Charlie starts talking, puts his words and his voice to the desires in John's own mind, and Charlie will get to watch his whole body squirm and that bottom lip gets perilously close to drawing blood. ]
When he speaks, it's his voice and not, the roaring of a dying star that learned to want, not so much eldritch as primal.]
I... want that too.
[ But he doesn't move a millimeter.
...well, most of him doesn't, but what was Charlie expecting exactly? ]
The squirming and obvious desire and the swelling of John's cock in his fingers are exactly Charlie's aim, and boy they get him going.
But the voice?
It's like being wanted by a forest fire, desired by a horizon-wide wall of cracking sparks and distant animal screams. Having that fire touching him and wanting him and what that means, the huge thing he keeps getting glimpses of comprehending -- glimpses that almost burn him alive, then turn and heat him up instead. Because John is that maelstrom but he's also still, he's wanting but not forcing, he's both the fire and the firebreak. Charlie's terrified, and he's also unbelievably turned on.
He sucks in a hard breath, then gets a leg over John to straddle him, since that's really the only sensible option at this point. This does unfortunately mean John's no longer getting his cock played with, but some temporary sacrifices must be made. He mutters feverishly: ]
Oh, fuck me.
[ ...which is mostly an expletive, but also, come to think of it, not just an expletive.
He can't tell if it's more urgent that he straddle John's dick or kiss his mouth, and he's not quite tall enough to do both at the same time, so he takes the secret third option and starts biting John's nipple instead. ]
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Well, for obvious reasons, that's different enough from any noises the King ever made.
His fingers keep moving lightly: they map the muscles of John's upper back, then find the valley of his spine and follow it down, in no particular hurry to do more than enjoy the journey. ]
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Fascinated by the eldritch purr, Charlie brings one hand to John's cheek and runs it through his beard, down through the thinner hair under his chin, and further down his throat. His thumb ghosts back and forth over the prominent crown marking on the way, though that's mostly a subconscious thought. ]
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It's a good thing he can't read the narration, though, because he'd point out that Charlie might be a little biased. ]
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Presently he tilts John, gently, onto his back on the bed, the better to pepper him with soft, exploratory kisses all over his throat and upper arms and chest, mouthing at him here and there, seeking idly for places he likes to be touched the best. ]
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...you can do this... any time you want.
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You quite enjoyin' yourself down there? [ Hey John, you like his shit-eating grins, right? ]
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At least as much as you're enjoying yourself.
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Hey, ain't every day I get a Greek goddamn statue in my bed. [ Did John know that his mouth is also in kissing distance? Because it is and it's getting kissed. ]
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I'm definitely not Greek.
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[ Charlie is lying across John's chest at a diagonal, the better to languidly move himself between exploration and kisses. He casts a significant look over his shoulder to further down John's body when he says that.
Enough time has passed that he's starting to feel the prickles of returning interest. He starts paying more attention to them when he hears the wanting note in John's kiss. Is it a good idea to do so? Absolutely not. But fuck, that was incredible, and he actually felt human for a bit, even if it all came crashing back in with interest afterwards. Would he do it again? He doesn't know how to answer--
He would. Goddamnit, he would in a heartbeat. ]
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[ And yes, he's going to glance where Charlie glanced before turning to look at Charlie in delighted bafflement.]
What did they do with fig leaves?
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Stuck 'em on the statues, so folks wouldn't see their maypoles sticking out and get all hot and bothered.
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By maypole, you mean... penis, yes?
[ Though even with all that going on, Charlie's smirk and that gleam in his eyes has definitely made a certain maypole start reacting in interest. John will answer how he turned bafflement into a method of seduction as soon as Charlie tells him how his smiles and grins and smirks do the same. ]
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Yeah, kid, I'm talkin' about penises. [ For purely illustrative purposes, one of his hands is now drifting over the abdominal muscles that were clenching so well for him earlier. ]
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Mm.
Maybe two fig leaves?
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[ Another glance towards John's maypole, noticing the developments down there, which make certain internal parts of Charlie warm up and hum. He traces his hand a little lower, as if he's in no more hurry than before, with no more of a destination in mind, and as if it's a total coincidence his fingers brush just past John's cock without actually touching it. His other hand -- whose elbow is propping Charlie up somewhat, much as he'd be happy to just plank across John's chest -- plays idly with John's hair. ]
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The maypole is definitely up and ready for a dance, though.]
quietly refreshing that nsfw warning
Aw hell, you.
[ As much as he can, he's removing these moments from any previous context and just living in them. It's a skill he's had to hone in order to function and right now it's coming in clutch. Sometimes, when reality might crumble into something else in the next five minutes anyway, you enjoy a good thing while you've got it as much as you possibly can. ]
You.
[ He strokes his fingers softly up one side of John's cock, and down the other, and gently rolls his sack in his fingers; he shivers, and kisses John's nipple and then his collarbone and then his throat, and by then he's at John's ear. ]
I wanna sit on your cock and slide down it till you can see it coming outta my throat. I want you to fuck me so well I can't sit down for a month. I wanna fuck your mouth until you miss me whenever your throat is empty. I want you under my desk with your face between my legs until I got nothin' left to shoot but air. [ His fingers are still moving over John's cock, slowly, lightly, trembling like his voice. ] I want your cock in the back of my throat, I wanna get fucked into the floor with it, I want bruises. I wanna swallow so much of your cum that I look like I'm carrying your goddamn child. [ A wanting noise in his throat, that turns into: ] You.
Re: quietly refreshing that nsfw warning
Then Charlie starts talking, puts his words and his voice to the desires in John's own mind, and Charlie will get to watch his whole body squirm and that bottom lip gets perilously close to drawing blood. ]
When he speaks, it's his voice and not, the roaring of a dying star that learned to want, not so much eldritch as primal.]
I... want that too.
[ But he doesn't move a millimeter.
...well, most of him doesn't, but what was Charlie expecting exactly? ]
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The squirming and obvious desire and the swelling of John's cock in his fingers are exactly Charlie's aim, and boy they get him going.
But the voice?
It's like being wanted by a forest fire, desired by a horizon-wide wall of cracking sparks and distant animal screams. Having that fire touching him and wanting him and what that means, the huge thing he keeps getting glimpses of comprehending -- glimpses that almost burn him alive, then turn and heat him up instead. Because John is that maelstrom but he's also still, he's wanting but not forcing, he's both the fire and the firebreak. Charlie's terrified, and he's also unbelievably turned on.
He sucks in a hard breath, then gets a leg over John to straddle him, since that's really the only sensible option at this point. This does unfortunately mean John's no longer getting his cock played with, but some temporary sacrifices must be made. He mutters feverishly: ]
Oh, fuck me.
[ ...which is mostly an expletive, but also, come to think of it, not just an expletive.
He can't tell if it's more urgent that he straddle John's dick or kiss his mouth, and he's not quite tall enough to do both at the same time, so he takes the secret third option and starts biting John's nipple instead. ]
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