Fear of Parting (Sean/Karl)
Jan. 13th, 2008 04:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlI wake up early, light just starting to trickle over the horizon. Sean is deeply asleep beside me, and I let him be. Both of us have been working hard, getting ready for our upcoming jobs. I know he’s tired. I slip on some jeans and head for the barn.
The days have finally begun to warm and the morning is cool, but not chilly. My jumper is enough. Smokey Joe stamps eagerly and I soothe him as I tack him. I haven’t had much time for him either. We take one of the paths that winds over the hills. I lose myself in the rhythm of his gait, letting my mind clear of worries about Jed and the ache of the future separation from Sean. We’ve both been going about our days without talking much about it, pretending its not there.
When I get back, I spend time with Smokey, brushing him thoroughly before leaving him in the pasture for the day. In the kitchen, I find a fresh pot of coffee and a note for Sean, asking me to meet him in our hideaway in the garden. I grin, a lazy curl of heat growing in me, just from reading his note. Funny thing, being in love, how something so simple from your lover can make you feel so warm, so cherished.
In the shower, I’m hard when I wash myself, but I leave it. I can wait until Sean is ready for me. The day has turned fine, the sun burning off any morning mist so I pull on some cargo shorts and a loose shirt. I wring the water out of my hair, which has gotten long again for my next role, longer than ever because it’s past my shoulders now. Leaving my shoes off, I head down the garden path, my steps eager and my heart happy. I can’t wait to find out what Sean has planned.
Sean: Sunlight slanting in through the clear glass panes of the windows and French doors blankets the low bed with brilliance and warmth. The entire room feels snug and inviting as the fresh morning light rises and it’s easy to remember the day Karl and I built this place, hidden deep in our garden. No one but us even knows it exists. Warmth of a different kind twines up through me at the memory of his hands on me, pressing me hard into the wall of this very room. Shivering, I can still feel his breath hot on my neck, hear his words, thick with lust and hunger in my ear. I hope he finds my note and comes along, and soon.
Giving myself a shake, I turn back to getting my supplies in order, just a few bits . . . sketchbook, pencils, and a leftover nub of an old eraser. I’ve wanted to sketch Karl for a while now, to renew my old hobby with him as my first subject. Soon enough we’ll be pulled away from home and each other while work demands our attention, this may be my last chance for a bit. Forcing that distracting thought aside, I imagine that getting sketched probably isn’t what he’s expecting for today, and I’ve made sure to bring out a few beers, as well as some freshly sliced fruit, and a big bag of crisps to keep his belly distracted. Honestly though, it likely isn’t Karl’s belly that I should be thinking about keeping distracted. Since creating our hideaway we’ve been vigilant at keeping it stocked with the essentials, lube, clean sheets, as we visit often. Already I’m finding me track pants getting a bit snug, and something about that, waiting for Karl, getting hard from just thinking about him, gets me grinning widely.
A sudden warmth pressing against my back and the quick kiss to the side of my neck makes me jump with surprise. Damn, my mura can be bloody sneaky when he’s a mind to. Laughing softly, I lean into his embrace, a flush of warmth rising in me. “Gone and caught me out daydreaming you have, love.”
Karl: This time of year always gets to me . . . memories of that first Christmastime when Sean and I got together. My golden lover. And the summer sunshine loves him, sliding over his skin and hair until he glows. I love lying with him in our hideaway, with him washed in the sunlight. I round the final bend in the path, and there he is. Caught by the light that is spilling through the windows.
I go still, watching him, feeling unable to breathe, knowing that he's mine, that we belong to each other. Fuck, I'll miss this, seeing him every day and it hurts, knowing we have to separate. There's a pressure in my chest, an ache of loss, but then he shifts his weight and the moment moves on. The pain eases and I move forward. This will pass.
Wrapping my arms around him, I just have to taste him, my lips grazing his neck. I sigh happily against his skin. The taste of him, the feel of him solid in my arms, makes the fear go away.
"Mmm, daydreaming about what? My sexy bloke." He turns and we rub our lips together, open mouthed kisses that are light, not intense, not yet. I well know how bloody quickly things can change between us, leave us drowning in passion, gasping at how hard it hits us.
I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing that my eyes are twinkling to match his. "What have you got planned in that devious mind of yours?"
Sean: Resting my hands on your shoulders, I lean in, nuzzling your neck, press smiling lips against you. I drink in your warmth, your steady strength against me. Fuck, bloody miserable I’ll be, being away from you for any length of time, much less weeks at a time. Again, I forcibly push that undesirable thought aside.
Your arms wrapped about me feels so brilliant, and now that I have your taste on my tongue, I need more. “Mmm, I’m not so devious,” I say softly, mouthing kisses along your jawline. “Would say I’m fairly transparent and rather obvious, actually,” the words are mumbled against your warm skin. I have to pull back slightly and take a breath, in danger of forgetting why I asked you out here. Christ, but you get inside me so easily, make me want and need so bloody much. Looking into your eyes, smiling, I think that what I’m going say might surprise you, if you haven’t already noted the sketch pad and pencils lying on the stool by the bed. “Been feeling like I want to pick up sketching, again, maybe painting, even,” I say slowly, watching to see what you think of my request.
Pressing close, held tightly against your chest, I’m a bit surprised at how hesitant I’m feel about my ability to capture you, your personality, on paper. It’s been years since I’ve done any serious work in my sketchpad, and I know full well I won’t ever be able to do you justice, not really, but even so I'm compelled to try.
“I’d like to sketch you, love, if you don’t mind being still for me for a bit?" Swiping my tongue along your bottom lip teasingly, inviting a kiss, I wait to hear your thoughts.
Karl: Your request startles me and I still, absently lipping your mouth and tasting you while I consider. Fucking hell, there's really nothing to consider. This is a part of you I really know nothing about, and after being with you for two years this Christmas, you still have the power to intrigue me. Bloody hell, I love you more than I ever dreamed possible. I love the security of being yours for so long, but hell yeah, I also love that there's still parts of you that I'm discovering.
Your hands are moving over my back, reassuring me, and fuck, you've got no idea what it does to me, that you want to sketch me. It means more than a thousand photo shoots or trips down the red carpet amongst yelling fans. You find ways to make me feel so fucking loved without really being obvious about it. The warmth that started with your note expands and I'm almost overwhelmed with it.
"Fuck, yeah, tahu, I fucking flattered. I love you, yeah?" I don't let go of you, waiting. This is your show, and I know fuck all about sketching or art or what the fuck ever. I've always been more of a craftsman and I can't wait to see what you do with this.
Sean: Fingers sinking into your hair, twining at the nape of your neck, I dive in for a kiss, working you mouth hard before pulling away, breathing against your sweet mouth, “I know, mura.” Stepping back, hands smoothing down over your broad, strong shoulders and down your arms I take your hands in mine. Grinning widely, just letting what you do to me show plainly on my face, I’ve already decided where I want you. “On the bed, love.”
You let me move you to sit down on the low-slung bed. Kneeling next to you, our weight dipping the mattress, I slip my hand under your shirt, giving you a slow stroke low on your belly. “Let’s have the shirt off, I think.” Obliging me you lift your arms, I pull the shirt off over your head, taking in a deep breath as the morning bathes you in warm sunlight. So gorgeous. Pressing you to lie back against the pillows, I leave a trail of gentle kisses over your chest as I withdraw, lingering long enough to rub my cheek against you just above your navel and whisper, “Love you.”
Looking up, you’re very still, hazel eyes watching me steadily. Grinning again, I draw my fingertips slowly down the center of your chest, over smooth, brilliantly warm skin. “Relax, love. Get comfortable. Want you to just enjoy this, too, yeah?” Flashing me a grin that has me chuckling softly, you stretch out, visibly relaxing as I move to the low stool next to the mattress. I’ve decided to keep your cargo shorts on . . . Christ knows I’m having a bloody hard enough time keeping me hands to meself. Settling in my seat, the sketchbook resting against my leg, I snag one of the pencils, take a breath, and begin. The pencil rasps against the paper as my hand moves, my gaze moving back and forth between you and the page in front of me.
Karl: I stretch out as instructed, getting into the position you wanted. The sun is warm across my chest and the bed is comfortable. You haven’t demanded some weird contortion on my part and I’m bloody relaxed, just laying here. I’m still a little bemused that you want to sketch me of all things, when there’s other far more fascinating things out and about the place. No worries, though, makes me happy to be the subject of your attention.
But it’s an odd sort of attention. I’ve no doubt that you know it’s me here, but you’re turned inward on what you’re doing. I watch you drowsily from under my nearly closed lids. Your tongue is out, like it always is when you’re concentrating. Makes me remember that night two years ago when I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Didn’t bloody know that I’d be tasting it . . . and you, before the night was out.
My dick stirs but I’m so laid out and easy that it’s a mild thing. It’ll still be there when you finish what you’re about. I can wait.
I try not to think about the time coming up when you won’t be about. I know we need to talk about it, but I fucking suck at talking and I’m terrified of making a fuck up of it.
Sean: Concentrating on you is bloody well ridiculously easy. Right off, I’m a little hesitant, but soon enough, following an old instinct, my hand is moving the pencil across the paper, blocking out your lines as you recline on the bed. I’m lost in you in a completely different way than usual . . . the sunlight only highlights how fucking beautiful you are, drawing you out before me in clear, golden tones. Your dark hair glows richly under the warmth, and your eyes, though heavy, still gleam under lowered lashes, watching me.
Your body speaks to me, the lines of lean muscles of your chest, the strong curve of your biceps, the trim waist, and your hands resting still and quiet, all say to me that there’s undeniable strength and power in you. Your dark eyes convey even more, hinting at the flame that I know burns inside, your spirit, your marvelous wildness . . . all things I doubt I’ll ever manage to capture with a lead pencil. Things I know I’ll never capture, as I’ve been held in those hands, loved by your body and spirit, and there’s no way I’m bloody good enough to do more than hint at these sacred, beautiful things.
Adding a bit more shading to your hair, at last I lower the pencil, fingers coming away smudged where I smoothed out lines and spots of shading with my fingertips. Setting the pencil aside I flex my hand, working the cramp that’s threatening to settle there. You sit up a bit, curious, as I study the drawing critically. It’s . . . passable, I suppose, doesn’t do you justice, but I’m happy to have created it.
Slipping off the stool I ease into bed, close by your side, keeping the sketchbook tilted away. You smell so fucking good. Nuzzling your ear, kissing the tender spot just below, I exhale slowly against your warm skin and bring the sketchbook up, offering it to you. “Thank you, love. Felt brilliant, sketching again.” You take the sketch as I tuck my head against your shoulder, not quite watching as you take in the drawing, not sure what you’ll think of it.
Karl: I wrap an arm around you as I taking the drawing you offer. You settle against me in a familiar position, one that we've gotten right after working on it for years now. Feels so bloody good to have you beside me like this, our legs tangling. I pull you close as I turn the book into the light.
Fuck. It's me on the paper, no doubt of that, but somehow you've put you into it too, I don't bloody know how. The lines meet and flow together, the light, all of it speaks to me of your personality coming out through the graphite. I'm amazed by it, stunned. It's like our lives, how we've woven ourselves together. The warmth that has been in my chest all morning expands and intensifies with the knowledge of how much I am loved.
"It's bloody brilliant. I've never seen anything so dead wonderful. The subject might be a bit lacking, but you did something amazing with it." I hold on to it and to you, knowing I'm holding something precious that I hope I never lose.
Sean: Deeply pleased, I can’t keep the smile off my face even though I’m shaking my head at you. Sitting up a bit, I look at you steadily. “Got it all wrong, love. The subject is the inspiration for the whole thing,” I say warmly, trailing a finger down your cheek. “Nothing lacking about you, not a thing.”
You open your mouth but I head off whatever you’ve got to say. “Right, and don’t bloody well contradict me; know how cranky I can get.” You shoot me a look and I grin madly. I tuck myself against your side as your arm goes tight about me, hugging close and I slip mine about your waist, resting my cheek on your shoulder as we both look again at the sketch. Our hideout is comfortable and sun-filled, and so brilliantly warm. Opened a pair of windows earlier to let in some air, and now I hear the trees outside rustling gently on a breeze, along with birdsong, probably from a mated pair, hopping along the branches.
Should think I could stay here for the rest of my life, snugged in your arms, with nothing to concern me but sunshine, warm breezes and you. It’s inevitable that my thoughts drift to the coming weeks, and the uncomfortable thought of us being apart. For all that I’m happy about working again, the closer that time draws near the more I’m dreading it. Feel like we should talk about it. We’ve hardly been apart for any real length of time.
Exhaling, I brush my lips against the point of your shoulder as you set the sketch aside. Sinking together back down on the mattress, I curl against you, wanting you, needing you, like I’m certain now that I always will. My lips gentle over your shoulder again, and I look up into your eyes, wanting to talk, not knowing what to say. I finally settle on, "How the hell am I ever gonna get any sleep, without you tangled up with me?”
Karl: There it is. We'd talked about this months ago after facing tremendous pressure from our agents. We'd basically said 'no' to everything that would separate us for any extended time. But we both needed to get into some roles that would raise our profiles again, and we'd decided that our relationship was strong enough to deal with a separation of a few months time. Knowing it's just ahead though, that's something else again.
"Gonna miss this, yeah. Don't want to think about being away from you. We're doing the right thing though, yeah?"
I need reassurance, need to hear that we'll be okay through this.
Sean: My chest tightens as I look up into your eyes. I’ve wondered the same thing, if we'll be okay. Want to make sure that you know I believe we will, or else, we'll do whatever needs be to make sure we get that way. “Think so, love. Think it’s a good move for us both. It’ll be bloody hard, but I don’t think either of us is ready to let go of our careers, we’ve worked too hard, haven't we?”
I watch you take that in for a moment, lacing my fingers between yours. “Work’s been a big part of my life. Have enjoyed it, chased it, sometimes too bloody hard.” There are three broken marriages behind me that points, at least in part, to that truth. “Think that sometimes, I used it as excuse, you know? An outlet when things were cracking up, a way out of bad situations when maybe I shouldn’t have.”
Looking at our joined hands, the press of past mistakes, my own and other’s, fades. Not always easy to think about those times, and there’s one brilliantly important kiwi-shaped difference between then and now. You. “But with you, love, I don’t worry on that. I know where I belong, and in a year or three, or ten, don’t want you to look back and wish you’d have gone after more roles.” Looking up at you, I smile. “Want you to go after whatever you want, whether that's acting or something else. We’ll manage, but Christ, the fucking phone bill’s gonna be ridiculous.”
Karl: I kiss our joined hands, letting my mouth linger on our joined tastes, you and me so wrapped up that my tongue can't tell where one ends and the other begins. I smile at your joke, letting your humour ease the knot of worry that's grown larger as the day we separate gets closer. I've seen other couples fall apart over movie careers, seen how they let their eyes go to other people, let other people ease their loneliness. I don't know if it's happened to you, and I've never inquire too closely into your past relationships, at first because I was so insecure that I was afraid to know how I didn't measure up, but recently because they just haven't mattered.
"I've bloody well got no practice at this. Always let my career come first. Never cared before who drifted in and out my life. But I'm not fucking losing you over this. We're not doing that."
The fierceness of what I feel for you wells up in me, hot and bright. And that's bloody fine, because I know you don't mind how I am sometimes, how I get. Another reason why I love you so fucking much.
"I'm not letting you go. I'll fucking find you wherever you are and batter down the door if need be. If you need to know how much I love you."
Sean: Your words, spoken intensely, deliberately, moves me in ways I can barely handle because I believe them. Emotion squeezing my heart, I tighten my fingers about yours as warmth rises over my skin. You’re watching me steadily with darkened eyes, and I can see the love in you, the passion just waiting to be set free . . . knowing that’s for me, that you’re mine, even after two years, still rocks me.
“Want to be yours, for keeps, love,” I say softly, voice thick. Our legs tangled, I try to press closer, wishing we were completely bare, with nothing between us. You’re keeping my hand locked with yours, and keeping your gaze locked with mine, I lower my mouth to your chest, mouthing your naked skin, my worship blatant. “I belong to you,” I whisper, breath feathering against your skin, wet from my kiss. “Belong to you, and you to me,” I manage as the heat builds inside, intensifies with each beat of my heart. Draping myself on you as best I’m able, craving as much contact as I can get, I lift up just a bit, looking you in the eye. “And if work . . . if it comes to it, love, I’ll give it up.”
It’s a bit of a shock, having said it, but even so it’s true. For the first bloody time in my adult life, I feel I could give up working and still be happy doing without it, because these last two years my focus has changed. My life is tied with yours, now, and I trust that, I trust you, us. Loving you has changed me, shown me that things I’d put aside, all kinds of things, like sketching, can be reclaimed. You’ve healed so many things in me, opened up so many things inside that have just made life that much better.
You’re staring and I grin, heart pounding because I want you so fucking much. Want to give you anything you want, to take your wild power inside me. “Mean it, love. Would do it, and be happy to. Love you, mura.”
Karl: I'm shocked by your declaration, not that I'll ever let you do it, nor do I think it'll ever be necessary. We won't let work come between us. But I'm moved by the sentiments, knowing how deeply you mean them.
But, fuck, you're distracting me. Okay, shit, maybe we've said all we need to say. We told our shifts when this first came up what we were doing and why. I'm glad that Éomer and I aren't at odds anymore, because I don't want to face the trauma of separating him from his lover against his will. In any case, we don't need to talk about it anymore. It's done and we've agreed we won't let it come between us. We've both had to watch other on screen with someone else, but we know it's not real.
This is what's real.
Your mouth on me, your hands on me. Suddenly I'm seized with an urgency and my fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, nearly ripping it off in my haste. You laugh, indulging my need and help me. My fingers go to the snaps on my shorts, shoving them down and kicking them off somewhere in the corner. You're naked too, and I pull you close, grinding our cocks together, pushing our chests together. I'm writhing, trying to get every part of our bodies in contact.
Sean: Your hard grind thrills me, shakes me to my core and I push back, rocking my hips, hands clamped down on your shoulders. Hands on my arse, kneading bloody hard wrings a gasp from me. Dipping my head I latch onto the sweet spot where your neck meets shoulder. Sucking on warm skin, I bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, before soothing you with hungry swipes of my tongue. My hands rake down your back, tracing the powerful play of muscle under skin before moving over your arse, kneading, pulling you in hard. Reveling in your taste, your strength, the sheer heat rolling off you, I moan your name as you roll us on the bed, our combined weight and frantic humping making it creak underneath as we tangle together. Sweat starts on both of us, heated skin sliding against skin and I wrap a leg about you, seeking to draw you in on me even tighter.
Fuck, but I need you, and my kisses are sloppy, graceless, so bloody needy you must be able to taste it on me. Shaking fingers sinks into your long dark hair, holding you tightly against my mouth as I all but feed off you. You don’t give ground, letting me in so brilliantly deep inside your mouth and at the same instant rolling on top of me, weight sinking me into the mattress, forcing breathy moans out of me that are instantly smothered against your lips.
Breaking the kiss to breath, I growl your name, bucking off the bed, offering meself to you. A hand lands on my hip and I whimper when your fingers go tight, and the thought that by tonight I could be wearing bruises there arrows a bolt of sheer fire straight down my spine to my cock. “Fuck, Karl!” I gasp. Eyes wide, staring into yours, “Anything . . . anything you want, mura.”
Karl: I'm pressing you into the bed, and your words start a chain in my mind . . . memories of the first time and how I was so out of control I couldn't stop myself to see to you. Now I know better, know it won't be my only time with you, but our upcoming separation is making me desperate for you. I raise up slightly, one hand gripping you tightly, holding you in place while I scrabble around for the lube, haste making my fingers clumsy. I squirt it on my fingers and then pull your legs up. I stab it into you, sliding two fingers in at once, getting as much lube in you as I can. I give my cock a cursory slick and then press your legs back again.
I've barely prepped you but I can't slow down, can't take it easy. "Fucking want inside," I grunt as I push in. You're gasping for air as I sink in and I still when I hit bottom, partly to get my ragged control back so I won't shoot as soon as I move, and partly to give you time to adjust to what had to have been a rather rough intrusion.
"Bloody hell, I want you, want all of you."
Sean: Christ, I’m panting madly because you’ve barged inside me, hot and rough and bloody hell, that’s what I want and my body is working hard to stretch to accommodate you. Eyes wide from being suddenly filled, I twine fingers in your hair; pull you down until our lips are a bare breath apart. “Belong to you, mura.”
I capture your mouth, growling my need and the kiss is as rough and unyielding as your first push into my arse. Seconds later I break away, falling back to the mattress whimpering as you begin moving, and god, I need you just this way, hard, deep, unstoppable. Need you to crawl inside and never come out. You’re bloody gorgeous, eyes dilated and dark, face framed by tangled long hair, skin shining with sweat in the sunlight, each thrust filling me so fucking completely. My cries come, spilling loud and rough as I wrap my hands about your biceps, giving over everything I’m able, and fuck, but I wish I’d thought to bring the cuffs. Grabbing your wrist I arch my back, my neck and stare up at you. Pressing your palm against my throat, I shudder with lust as your fingers curl about me. Oh, christ, and a dark and huge hunger moves through me because your rhythm hitches suddenly, but you’re still holding my throat and I want more.
“Yours,” I gasp, looking at you under my lashes, and god, after two years to think we’ve found another hot spot for me. My throat. “Mark me,” I plead suddenly. “Please, love, mark me skin,” and I don’t care how, with your mouth or hands, but I’m shaking with wanting it so fucking much.
Karl: You've managed to shock me with the depth of the feeling you have for me, after this time. My hips falter. I squeeze my fingers reflexively and watch your eyes go wide and dark. I can smell the desire rolling off you. You've made it clear that you want me to take this further. I'll give you what you want, bloody hell, there's no way I'll ever be able to deny you anything, but I've got to get myself under control. You taught me that when you put me in the cuffs, giving me the freedom to feel everything, but you never once lost track of what you were doing. I've got to give you the same.
I bare my teeth. "Yes," I grit, barely able to speak as I struggle to rein my body back. I lean down and bite your shoulder hard enough to bruise, to break the skin. You hiss and jump under me, but it's enough. It dissipates some of my energy. I can do this.
I've been in enough brawls to know how to hurt you without damaging you. I push up on one elbow, my other hand still on your neck. I move my hips again, a brutal rhythm that scrapes your prostate while at the same time I tighten my fingers on the sides of your neck, hard. It hurts, I can see it in your eyes, but your mouth is begging me, pleading for more. I'm not touching anything vital, not yet. I've forgotten about my own pleasure, too intent on your body's reactions to my treatment. You tighten around me and I move my thumb slightly, pressing on your artery. I feel the fluttering of your hole around my cock, and I press harder, watching your eyes carefully. The green is blown out by the black of your desire, and I see the moment when you realise that you're slipping away. Your body spasms at the same time and I count to ten slowly, then release you. Your body jerks, writhing under me, but I hold still, dick still buried inside you while I wait for you to come back to me. It's a lonely feeling, but hopeful too. Hoping that I can give you what you need, that I'm enough for you.
Sean: A minute or an hour might have passed as I pant, eyes closed, struggling to catch my breath. Can’t process this, too much, the pleasure you’ve dealt me. You’ve ruthlessly claimed me using your cock, teeth, your hand wrapped about me throat, and I bloody well begged for it all. I begged and you gave me everything. There was passion and pain, but my mura, you stripped the pain away, melted it down until only the unstoppable pleasure remained, and I became heat and flame and my body couldn’t contain it. The proof is spilled across my belly, in the memory of my pleas, in the ache in me arse and throat and the sting of my shoulder. The proof is in the slow realization that it’s only now, as I slowly resurface from that place you put me, that headspace where I am yours in all things, that I recognize you’re still hard, buried deeply in me.
A sudden intake of breath, shaky, and the scent of sex is heavy in the air. I need another and I take it, discovering that I’m trembling. I need to see you, please you, feel you spill inside. Forcing my eyes open I find you waiting, patient, and intent. The breath rushes out of me at the look in your eyes, at knowing that I was that far gone, slammed so deeply into the pleasure you fucked into me, I didn’t even know you were holding back your own.
“Karl,” I whisper, voice ragged.
You gentle me with kisses to my mouth, my forehead, the bridge of my nose. Soft, warm lips move against mine, breathing my own name against my lips and I open to you willingly, instinctually. You thrust, just once, but it’s enough to break the kiss. I whimper, fingers reflexively sinking into your arms. I've already come and you’re splitting me into, but I rock my hips, inviting your pleasure.
“Please, come in me,” I rasp, body tightening purposely. You’ve stripped me to the bare essentials, love, trust, passion. My eyes are wet, wide, staring up at you. “Love you,” I manage as you begin moving. Love you. Trust you. Need you. You’re everything, and it’s all there, plain in my eyes, and if I break you’ll keep me safe, you’ll put me back together.
Karl: There's relief that you're back, that I haven't injured you and then there's lust, increased want at your open acceptance of what I did to you, of me. I'll never get enough of that ease between us, the way you like all parts of me, even the parts that aren't exactly civilised. You're begging me to shoot off inside you and I can do it now . . . you're here and you can take back control, let me lose myself in your heat. I think that's why we work, because we are both strong enough to let go when need be and sure enough to lead when the other one wants it.
I meet your eyes, falling into the green again, always. I brace my arms and thrust my hips, once. Your body tightens around me and I let a long aching groan.
"Sean . . . ."
That's all the warning I can manage. I pound into you blindly, all I know is that your body cradles me, welcomes me. I can't hold back and you probably don't need any long fucking, not after coming like you just did. My balls are tightening, tingles race down my spine and my hips snap forward, grinding into. I shudder, body jumping as I come. Your hands are on me, urging me on and I buck against your touch. It ends finally and I'm wrung out, my arms are shaking in the aftermath. But you pull me down and I curl against you.
Sean: Hands gliding up and down your spine over sweat-slick skin, I relax, breathing gradually falling back into an even rhythm. You’re still in me, cock spent, and I can’t fight the well of emotion inside, don’t even try. You’ve pounded your wildness deep into me, and unlike your seed it’ll never slip away. I’ll always have it where you’ve buried it, made it a part of me and I want to tell you I’ve never offered anyone but you my breath, never put myself into anyone’s hands like that. No one but you, and I want to tell you I love you, how fucking brilliant it feels to trust that way, to be fucked speechless, to be yours. But I am speechless, can’t gather my voice or the words so I tighten my arms about you, needful, craving your care.
You murmur against my ear, voice low, gentle. Closing my eyes and pressing my face against your neck, exhaling against your skin I can’t stop the whimper, the shiver that takes me as you slide free, pulling out. Feels as if you’ve loved every single part of me, inside and out, and everything’s tender to the touch, hypersensitive. Feels bloody marvelous, it does.
Rolling us on the bed, half on top of me you hold me for what feels like a long while. I curl under you, hands moving restlessly on you as if reassuring myself that you’re solid and real, and I swear I can still feel your fingers curled about my neck, your cock ramming in. You give me time to surface, whispering lovely nonsense against my hair, patiently waiting as the last bit of restless energy burns itself out. Christ, I’ve gone clingy and I hope to hell you don’t mind, but I need you close.
Quiet minutes tick past, and after a while you pull away, just long enough to snag a towel and swipe my belly clean, then you’re back. In the wake of you, our loving, I’m going boneless, the hot glow of orgasm fading, easing me down into a depthless satiation. You slide home against me and I instantly snuggle against your chest, eyes slowly opening. You’re watching me, gaze intent. I’m still needing the words to come, and I have to say something, anything, just to let you hear in my voice how bloody well you’ve moved me. Hands coming up to frame your face, staring into you, I give you your name as a low, rough whisper.
“Karl, love.”
Your eyes widen slightly and tightening my hold, still feeling so needful, I pull you down, pressing my mouth against yours, trusting you're hearing all that I'm trying to say.
Karl: Just like that, I know everything is going to be all right. Love. That's the important thing, the rest is just details. We both have long careers ahead of each other and sometimes we won't be able to be together. But we'll always come back to each other. That's what this is.
My mouth is gentle, lips rubbing. I sigh happily.
NC-17
The days have finally begun to warm and the morning is cool, but not chilly. My jumper is enough. Smokey Joe stamps eagerly and I soothe him as I tack him. I haven’t had much time for him either. We take one of the paths that winds over the hills. I lose myself in the rhythm of his gait, letting my mind clear of worries about Jed and the ache of the future separation from Sean. We’ve both been going about our days without talking much about it, pretending its not there.
When I get back, I spend time with Smokey, brushing him thoroughly before leaving him in the pasture for the day. In the kitchen, I find a fresh pot of coffee and a note for Sean, asking me to meet him in our hideaway in the garden. I grin, a lazy curl of heat growing in me, just from reading his note. Funny thing, being in love, how something so simple from your lover can make you feel so warm, so cherished.
In the shower, I’m hard when I wash myself, but I leave it. I can wait until Sean is ready for me. The day has turned fine, the sun burning off any morning mist so I pull on some cargo shorts and a loose shirt. I wring the water out of my hair, which has gotten long again for my next role, longer than ever because it’s past my shoulders now. Leaving my shoes off, I head down the garden path, my steps eager and my heart happy. I can’t wait to find out what Sean has planned.
Sean: Sunlight slanting in through the clear glass panes of the windows and French doors blankets the low bed with brilliance and warmth. The entire room feels snug and inviting as the fresh morning light rises and it’s easy to remember the day Karl and I built this place, hidden deep in our garden. No one but us even knows it exists. Warmth of a different kind twines up through me at the memory of his hands on me, pressing me hard into the wall of this very room. Shivering, I can still feel his breath hot on my neck, hear his words, thick with lust and hunger in my ear. I hope he finds my note and comes along, and soon.
Giving myself a shake, I turn back to getting my supplies in order, just a few bits . . . sketchbook, pencils, and a leftover nub of an old eraser. I’ve wanted to sketch Karl for a while now, to renew my old hobby with him as my first subject. Soon enough we’ll be pulled away from home and each other while work demands our attention, this may be my last chance for a bit. Forcing that distracting thought aside, I imagine that getting sketched probably isn’t what he’s expecting for today, and I’ve made sure to bring out a few beers, as well as some freshly sliced fruit, and a big bag of crisps to keep his belly distracted. Honestly though, it likely isn’t Karl’s belly that I should be thinking about keeping distracted. Since creating our hideaway we’ve been vigilant at keeping it stocked with the essentials, lube, clean sheets, as we visit often. Already I’m finding me track pants getting a bit snug, and something about that, waiting for Karl, getting hard from just thinking about him, gets me grinning widely.
A sudden warmth pressing against my back and the quick kiss to the side of my neck makes me jump with surprise. Damn, my mura can be bloody sneaky when he’s a mind to. Laughing softly, I lean into his embrace, a flush of warmth rising in me. “Gone and caught me out daydreaming you have, love.”
Karl: This time of year always gets to me . . . memories of that first Christmastime when Sean and I got together. My golden lover. And the summer sunshine loves him, sliding over his skin and hair until he glows. I love lying with him in our hideaway, with him washed in the sunlight. I round the final bend in the path, and there he is. Caught by the light that is spilling through the windows.
I go still, watching him, feeling unable to breathe, knowing that he's mine, that we belong to each other. Fuck, I'll miss this, seeing him every day and it hurts, knowing we have to separate. There's a pressure in my chest, an ache of loss, but then he shifts his weight and the moment moves on. The pain eases and I move forward. This will pass.
Wrapping my arms around him, I just have to taste him, my lips grazing his neck. I sigh happily against his skin. The taste of him, the feel of him solid in my arms, makes the fear go away.
"Mmm, daydreaming about what? My sexy bloke." He turns and we rub our lips together, open mouthed kisses that are light, not intense, not yet. I well know how bloody quickly things can change between us, leave us drowning in passion, gasping at how hard it hits us.
I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing that my eyes are twinkling to match his. "What have you got planned in that devious mind of yours?"
Sean: Resting my hands on your shoulders, I lean in, nuzzling your neck, press smiling lips against you. I drink in your warmth, your steady strength against me. Fuck, bloody miserable I’ll be, being away from you for any length of time, much less weeks at a time. Again, I forcibly push that undesirable thought aside.
Your arms wrapped about me feels so brilliant, and now that I have your taste on my tongue, I need more. “Mmm, I’m not so devious,” I say softly, mouthing kisses along your jawline. “Would say I’m fairly transparent and rather obvious, actually,” the words are mumbled against your warm skin. I have to pull back slightly and take a breath, in danger of forgetting why I asked you out here. Christ, but you get inside me so easily, make me want and need so bloody much. Looking into your eyes, smiling, I think that what I’m going say might surprise you, if you haven’t already noted the sketch pad and pencils lying on the stool by the bed. “Been feeling like I want to pick up sketching, again, maybe painting, even,” I say slowly, watching to see what you think of my request.
Pressing close, held tightly against your chest, I’m a bit surprised at how hesitant I’m feel about my ability to capture you, your personality, on paper. It’s been years since I’ve done any serious work in my sketchpad, and I know full well I won’t ever be able to do you justice, not really, but even so I'm compelled to try.
“I’d like to sketch you, love, if you don’t mind being still for me for a bit?" Swiping my tongue along your bottom lip teasingly, inviting a kiss, I wait to hear your thoughts.
Karl: Your request startles me and I still, absently lipping your mouth and tasting you while I consider. Fucking hell, there's really nothing to consider. This is a part of you I really know nothing about, and after being with you for two years this Christmas, you still have the power to intrigue me. Bloody hell, I love you more than I ever dreamed possible. I love the security of being yours for so long, but hell yeah, I also love that there's still parts of you that I'm discovering.
Your hands are moving over my back, reassuring me, and fuck, you've got no idea what it does to me, that you want to sketch me. It means more than a thousand photo shoots or trips down the red carpet amongst yelling fans. You find ways to make me feel so fucking loved without really being obvious about it. The warmth that started with your note expands and I'm almost overwhelmed with it.
"Fuck, yeah, tahu, I fucking flattered. I love you, yeah?" I don't let go of you, waiting. This is your show, and I know fuck all about sketching or art or what the fuck ever. I've always been more of a craftsman and I can't wait to see what you do with this.
Sean: Fingers sinking into your hair, twining at the nape of your neck, I dive in for a kiss, working you mouth hard before pulling away, breathing against your sweet mouth, “I know, mura.” Stepping back, hands smoothing down over your broad, strong shoulders and down your arms I take your hands in mine. Grinning widely, just letting what you do to me show plainly on my face, I’ve already decided where I want you. “On the bed, love.”
You let me move you to sit down on the low-slung bed. Kneeling next to you, our weight dipping the mattress, I slip my hand under your shirt, giving you a slow stroke low on your belly. “Let’s have the shirt off, I think.” Obliging me you lift your arms, I pull the shirt off over your head, taking in a deep breath as the morning bathes you in warm sunlight. So gorgeous. Pressing you to lie back against the pillows, I leave a trail of gentle kisses over your chest as I withdraw, lingering long enough to rub my cheek against you just above your navel and whisper, “Love you.”
Looking up, you’re very still, hazel eyes watching me steadily. Grinning again, I draw my fingertips slowly down the center of your chest, over smooth, brilliantly warm skin. “Relax, love. Get comfortable. Want you to just enjoy this, too, yeah?” Flashing me a grin that has me chuckling softly, you stretch out, visibly relaxing as I move to the low stool next to the mattress. I’ve decided to keep your cargo shorts on . . . Christ knows I’m having a bloody hard enough time keeping me hands to meself. Settling in my seat, the sketchbook resting against my leg, I snag one of the pencils, take a breath, and begin. The pencil rasps against the paper as my hand moves, my gaze moving back and forth between you and the page in front of me.
Karl: I stretch out as instructed, getting into the position you wanted. The sun is warm across my chest and the bed is comfortable. You haven’t demanded some weird contortion on my part and I’m bloody relaxed, just laying here. I’m still a little bemused that you want to sketch me of all things, when there’s other far more fascinating things out and about the place. No worries, though, makes me happy to be the subject of your attention.
But it’s an odd sort of attention. I’ve no doubt that you know it’s me here, but you’re turned inward on what you’re doing. I watch you drowsily from under my nearly closed lids. Your tongue is out, like it always is when you’re concentrating. Makes me remember that night two years ago when I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Didn’t bloody know that I’d be tasting it . . . and you, before the night was out.
My dick stirs but I’m so laid out and easy that it’s a mild thing. It’ll still be there when you finish what you’re about. I can wait.
I try not to think about the time coming up when you won’t be about. I know we need to talk about it, but I fucking suck at talking and I’m terrified of making a fuck up of it.
Sean: Concentrating on you is bloody well ridiculously easy. Right off, I’m a little hesitant, but soon enough, following an old instinct, my hand is moving the pencil across the paper, blocking out your lines as you recline on the bed. I’m lost in you in a completely different way than usual . . . the sunlight only highlights how fucking beautiful you are, drawing you out before me in clear, golden tones. Your dark hair glows richly under the warmth, and your eyes, though heavy, still gleam under lowered lashes, watching me.
Your body speaks to me, the lines of lean muscles of your chest, the strong curve of your biceps, the trim waist, and your hands resting still and quiet, all say to me that there’s undeniable strength and power in you. Your dark eyes convey even more, hinting at the flame that I know burns inside, your spirit, your marvelous wildness . . . all things I doubt I’ll ever manage to capture with a lead pencil. Things I know I’ll never capture, as I’ve been held in those hands, loved by your body and spirit, and there’s no way I’m bloody good enough to do more than hint at these sacred, beautiful things.
Adding a bit more shading to your hair, at last I lower the pencil, fingers coming away smudged where I smoothed out lines and spots of shading with my fingertips. Setting the pencil aside I flex my hand, working the cramp that’s threatening to settle there. You sit up a bit, curious, as I study the drawing critically. It’s . . . passable, I suppose, doesn’t do you justice, but I’m happy to have created it.
Slipping off the stool I ease into bed, close by your side, keeping the sketchbook tilted away. You smell so fucking good. Nuzzling your ear, kissing the tender spot just below, I exhale slowly against your warm skin and bring the sketchbook up, offering it to you. “Thank you, love. Felt brilliant, sketching again.” You take the sketch as I tuck my head against your shoulder, not quite watching as you take in the drawing, not sure what you’ll think of it.
Karl: I wrap an arm around you as I taking the drawing you offer. You settle against me in a familiar position, one that we've gotten right after working on it for years now. Feels so bloody good to have you beside me like this, our legs tangling. I pull you close as I turn the book into the light.
Fuck. It's me on the paper, no doubt of that, but somehow you've put you into it too, I don't bloody know how. The lines meet and flow together, the light, all of it speaks to me of your personality coming out through the graphite. I'm amazed by it, stunned. It's like our lives, how we've woven ourselves together. The warmth that has been in my chest all morning expands and intensifies with the knowledge of how much I am loved.
"It's bloody brilliant. I've never seen anything so dead wonderful. The subject might be a bit lacking, but you did something amazing with it." I hold on to it and to you, knowing I'm holding something precious that I hope I never lose.
Sean: Deeply pleased, I can’t keep the smile off my face even though I’m shaking my head at you. Sitting up a bit, I look at you steadily. “Got it all wrong, love. The subject is the inspiration for the whole thing,” I say warmly, trailing a finger down your cheek. “Nothing lacking about you, not a thing.”
You open your mouth but I head off whatever you’ve got to say. “Right, and don’t bloody well contradict me; know how cranky I can get.” You shoot me a look and I grin madly. I tuck myself against your side as your arm goes tight about me, hugging close and I slip mine about your waist, resting my cheek on your shoulder as we both look again at the sketch. Our hideout is comfortable and sun-filled, and so brilliantly warm. Opened a pair of windows earlier to let in some air, and now I hear the trees outside rustling gently on a breeze, along with birdsong, probably from a mated pair, hopping along the branches.
Should think I could stay here for the rest of my life, snugged in your arms, with nothing to concern me but sunshine, warm breezes and you. It’s inevitable that my thoughts drift to the coming weeks, and the uncomfortable thought of us being apart. For all that I’m happy about working again, the closer that time draws near the more I’m dreading it. Feel like we should talk about it. We’ve hardly been apart for any real length of time.
Exhaling, I brush my lips against the point of your shoulder as you set the sketch aside. Sinking together back down on the mattress, I curl against you, wanting you, needing you, like I’m certain now that I always will. My lips gentle over your shoulder again, and I look up into your eyes, wanting to talk, not knowing what to say. I finally settle on, "How the hell am I ever gonna get any sleep, without you tangled up with me?”
Karl: There it is. We'd talked about this months ago after facing tremendous pressure from our agents. We'd basically said 'no' to everything that would separate us for any extended time. But we both needed to get into some roles that would raise our profiles again, and we'd decided that our relationship was strong enough to deal with a separation of a few months time. Knowing it's just ahead though, that's something else again.
"Gonna miss this, yeah. Don't want to think about being away from you. We're doing the right thing though, yeah?"
I need reassurance, need to hear that we'll be okay through this.
Sean: My chest tightens as I look up into your eyes. I’ve wondered the same thing, if we'll be okay. Want to make sure that you know I believe we will, or else, we'll do whatever needs be to make sure we get that way. “Think so, love. Think it’s a good move for us both. It’ll be bloody hard, but I don’t think either of us is ready to let go of our careers, we’ve worked too hard, haven't we?”
I watch you take that in for a moment, lacing my fingers between yours. “Work’s been a big part of my life. Have enjoyed it, chased it, sometimes too bloody hard.” There are three broken marriages behind me that points, at least in part, to that truth. “Think that sometimes, I used it as excuse, you know? An outlet when things were cracking up, a way out of bad situations when maybe I shouldn’t have.”
Looking at our joined hands, the press of past mistakes, my own and other’s, fades. Not always easy to think about those times, and there’s one brilliantly important kiwi-shaped difference between then and now. You. “But with you, love, I don’t worry on that. I know where I belong, and in a year or three, or ten, don’t want you to look back and wish you’d have gone after more roles.” Looking up at you, I smile. “Want you to go after whatever you want, whether that's acting or something else. We’ll manage, but Christ, the fucking phone bill’s gonna be ridiculous.”
Karl: I kiss our joined hands, letting my mouth linger on our joined tastes, you and me so wrapped up that my tongue can't tell where one ends and the other begins. I smile at your joke, letting your humour ease the knot of worry that's grown larger as the day we separate gets closer. I've seen other couples fall apart over movie careers, seen how they let their eyes go to other people, let other people ease their loneliness. I don't know if it's happened to you, and I've never inquire too closely into your past relationships, at first because I was so insecure that I was afraid to know how I didn't measure up, but recently because they just haven't mattered.
"I've bloody well got no practice at this. Always let my career come first. Never cared before who drifted in and out my life. But I'm not fucking losing you over this. We're not doing that."
The fierceness of what I feel for you wells up in me, hot and bright. And that's bloody fine, because I know you don't mind how I am sometimes, how I get. Another reason why I love you so fucking much.
"I'm not letting you go. I'll fucking find you wherever you are and batter down the door if need be. If you need to know how much I love you."
Sean: Your words, spoken intensely, deliberately, moves me in ways I can barely handle because I believe them. Emotion squeezing my heart, I tighten my fingers about yours as warmth rises over my skin. You’re watching me steadily with darkened eyes, and I can see the love in you, the passion just waiting to be set free . . . knowing that’s for me, that you’re mine, even after two years, still rocks me.
“Want to be yours, for keeps, love,” I say softly, voice thick. Our legs tangled, I try to press closer, wishing we were completely bare, with nothing between us. You’re keeping my hand locked with yours, and keeping your gaze locked with mine, I lower my mouth to your chest, mouthing your naked skin, my worship blatant. “I belong to you,” I whisper, breath feathering against your skin, wet from my kiss. “Belong to you, and you to me,” I manage as the heat builds inside, intensifies with each beat of my heart. Draping myself on you as best I’m able, craving as much contact as I can get, I lift up just a bit, looking you in the eye. “And if work . . . if it comes to it, love, I’ll give it up.”
It’s a bit of a shock, having said it, but even so it’s true. For the first bloody time in my adult life, I feel I could give up working and still be happy doing without it, because these last two years my focus has changed. My life is tied with yours, now, and I trust that, I trust you, us. Loving you has changed me, shown me that things I’d put aside, all kinds of things, like sketching, can be reclaimed. You’ve healed so many things in me, opened up so many things inside that have just made life that much better.
You’re staring and I grin, heart pounding because I want you so fucking much. Want to give you anything you want, to take your wild power inside me. “Mean it, love. Would do it, and be happy to. Love you, mura.”
Karl: I'm shocked by your declaration, not that I'll ever let you do it, nor do I think it'll ever be necessary. We won't let work come between us. But I'm moved by the sentiments, knowing how deeply you mean them.
But, fuck, you're distracting me. Okay, shit, maybe we've said all we need to say. We told our shifts when this first came up what we were doing and why. I'm glad that Éomer and I aren't at odds anymore, because I don't want to face the trauma of separating him from his lover against his will. In any case, we don't need to talk about it anymore. It's done and we've agreed we won't let it come between us. We've both had to watch other on screen with someone else, but we know it's not real.
This is what's real.
Your mouth on me, your hands on me. Suddenly I'm seized with an urgency and my fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, nearly ripping it off in my haste. You laugh, indulging my need and help me. My fingers go to the snaps on my shorts, shoving them down and kicking them off somewhere in the corner. You're naked too, and I pull you close, grinding our cocks together, pushing our chests together. I'm writhing, trying to get every part of our bodies in contact.
Sean: Your hard grind thrills me, shakes me to my core and I push back, rocking my hips, hands clamped down on your shoulders. Hands on my arse, kneading bloody hard wrings a gasp from me. Dipping my head I latch onto the sweet spot where your neck meets shoulder. Sucking on warm skin, I bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, before soothing you with hungry swipes of my tongue. My hands rake down your back, tracing the powerful play of muscle under skin before moving over your arse, kneading, pulling you in hard. Reveling in your taste, your strength, the sheer heat rolling off you, I moan your name as you roll us on the bed, our combined weight and frantic humping making it creak underneath as we tangle together. Sweat starts on both of us, heated skin sliding against skin and I wrap a leg about you, seeking to draw you in on me even tighter.
Fuck, but I need you, and my kisses are sloppy, graceless, so bloody needy you must be able to taste it on me. Shaking fingers sinks into your long dark hair, holding you tightly against my mouth as I all but feed off you. You don’t give ground, letting me in so brilliantly deep inside your mouth and at the same instant rolling on top of me, weight sinking me into the mattress, forcing breathy moans out of me that are instantly smothered against your lips.
Breaking the kiss to breath, I growl your name, bucking off the bed, offering meself to you. A hand lands on my hip and I whimper when your fingers go tight, and the thought that by tonight I could be wearing bruises there arrows a bolt of sheer fire straight down my spine to my cock. “Fuck, Karl!” I gasp. Eyes wide, staring into yours, “Anything . . . anything you want, mura.”
Karl: I'm pressing you into the bed, and your words start a chain in my mind . . . memories of the first time and how I was so out of control I couldn't stop myself to see to you. Now I know better, know it won't be my only time with you, but our upcoming separation is making me desperate for you. I raise up slightly, one hand gripping you tightly, holding you in place while I scrabble around for the lube, haste making my fingers clumsy. I squirt it on my fingers and then pull your legs up. I stab it into you, sliding two fingers in at once, getting as much lube in you as I can. I give my cock a cursory slick and then press your legs back again.
I've barely prepped you but I can't slow down, can't take it easy. "Fucking want inside," I grunt as I push in. You're gasping for air as I sink in and I still when I hit bottom, partly to get my ragged control back so I won't shoot as soon as I move, and partly to give you time to adjust to what had to have been a rather rough intrusion.
"Bloody hell, I want you, want all of you."
Sean: Christ, I’m panting madly because you’ve barged inside me, hot and rough and bloody hell, that’s what I want and my body is working hard to stretch to accommodate you. Eyes wide from being suddenly filled, I twine fingers in your hair; pull you down until our lips are a bare breath apart. “Belong to you, mura.”
I capture your mouth, growling my need and the kiss is as rough and unyielding as your first push into my arse. Seconds later I break away, falling back to the mattress whimpering as you begin moving, and god, I need you just this way, hard, deep, unstoppable. Need you to crawl inside and never come out. You’re bloody gorgeous, eyes dilated and dark, face framed by tangled long hair, skin shining with sweat in the sunlight, each thrust filling me so fucking completely. My cries come, spilling loud and rough as I wrap my hands about your biceps, giving over everything I’m able, and fuck, but I wish I’d thought to bring the cuffs. Grabbing your wrist I arch my back, my neck and stare up at you. Pressing your palm against my throat, I shudder with lust as your fingers curl about me. Oh, christ, and a dark and huge hunger moves through me because your rhythm hitches suddenly, but you’re still holding my throat and I want more.
“Yours,” I gasp, looking at you under my lashes, and god, after two years to think we’ve found another hot spot for me. My throat. “Mark me,” I plead suddenly. “Please, love, mark me skin,” and I don’t care how, with your mouth or hands, but I’m shaking with wanting it so fucking much.
Karl: You've managed to shock me with the depth of the feeling you have for me, after this time. My hips falter. I squeeze my fingers reflexively and watch your eyes go wide and dark. I can smell the desire rolling off you. You've made it clear that you want me to take this further. I'll give you what you want, bloody hell, there's no way I'll ever be able to deny you anything, but I've got to get myself under control. You taught me that when you put me in the cuffs, giving me the freedom to feel everything, but you never once lost track of what you were doing. I've got to give you the same.
I bare my teeth. "Yes," I grit, barely able to speak as I struggle to rein my body back. I lean down and bite your shoulder hard enough to bruise, to break the skin. You hiss and jump under me, but it's enough. It dissipates some of my energy. I can do this.
I've been in enough brawls to know how to hurt you without damaging you. I push up on one elbow, my other hand still on your neck. I move my hips again, a brutal rhythm that scrapes your prostate while at the same time I tighten my fingers on the sides of your neck, hard. It hurts, I can see it in your eyes, but your mouth is begging me, pleading for more. I'm not touching anything vital, not yet. I've forgotten about my own pleasure, too intent on your body's reactions to my treatment. You tighten around me and I move my thumb slightly, pressing on your artery. I feel the fluttering of your hole around my cock, and I press harder, watching your eyes carefully. The green is blown out by the black of your desire, and I see the moment when you realise that you're slipping away. Your body spasms at the same time and I count to ten slowly, then release you. Your body jerks, writhing under me, but I hold still, dick still buried inside you while I wait for you to come back to me. It's a lonely feeling, but hopeful too. Hoping that I can give you what you need, that I'm enough for you.
Sean: A minute or an hour might have passed as I pant, eyes closed, struggling to catch my breath. Can’t process this, too much, the pleasure you’ve dealt me. You’ve ruthlessly claimed me using your cock, teeth, your hand wrapped about me throat, and I bloody well begged for it all. I begged and you gave me everything. There was passion and pain, but my mura, you stripped the pain away, melted it down until only the unstoppable pleasure remained, and I became heat and flame and my body couldn’t contain it. The proof is spilled across my belly, in the memory of my pleas, in the ache in me arse and throat and the sting of my shoulder. The proof is in the slow realization that it’s only now, as I slowly resurface from that place you put me, that headspace where I am yours in all things, that I recognize you’re still hard, buried deeply in me.
A sudden intake of breath, shaky, and the scent of sex is heavy in the air. I need another and I take it, discovering that I’m trembling. I need to see you, please you, feel you spill inside. Forcing my eyes open I find you waiting, patient, and intent. The breath rushes out of me at the look in your eyes, at knowing that I was that far gone, slammed so deeply into the pleasure you fucked into me, I didn’t even know you were holding back your own.
“Karl,” I whisper, voice ragged.
You gentle me with kisses to my mouth, my forehead, the bridge of my nose. Soft, warm lips move against mine, breathing my own name against my lips and I open to you willingly, instinctually. You thrust, just once, but it’s enough to break the kiss. I whimper, fingers reflexively sinking into your arms. I've already come and you’re splitting me into, but I rock my hips, inviting your pleasure.
“Please, come in me,” I rasp, body tightening purposely. You’ve stripped me to the bare essentials, love, trust, passion. My eyes are wet, wide, staring up at you. “Love you,” I manage as you begin moving. Love you. Trust you. Need you. You’re everything, and it’s all there, plain in my eyes, and if I break you’ll keep me safe, you’ll put me back together.
Karl: There's relief that you're back, that I haven't injured you and then there's lust, increased want at your open acceptance of what I did to you, of me. I'll never get enough of that ease between us, the way you like all parts of me, even the parts that aren't exactly civilised. You're begging me to shoot off inside you and I can do it now . . . you're here and you can take back control, let me lose myself in your heat. I think that's why we work, because we are both strong enough to let go when need be and sure enough to lead when the other one wants it.
I meet your eyes, falling into the green again, always. I brace my arms and thrust my hips, once. Your body tightens around me and I let a long aching groan.
"Sean . . . ."
That's all the warning I can manage. I pound into you blindly, all I know is that your body cradles me, welcomes me. I can't hold back and you probably don't need any long fucking, not after coming like you just did. My balls are tightening, tingles race down my spine and my hips snap forward, grinding into. I shudder, body jumping as I come. Your hands are on me, urging me on and I buck against your touch. It ends finally and I'm wrung out, my arms are shaking in the aftermath. But you pull me down and I curl against you.
Sean: Hands gliding up and down your spine over sweat-slick skin, I relax, breathing gradually falling back into an even rhythm. You’re still in me, cock spent, and I can’t fight the well of emotion inside, don’t even try. You’ve pounded your wildness deep into me, and unlike your seed it’ll never slip away. I’ll always have it where you’ve buried it, made it a part of me and I want to tell you I’ve never offered anyone but you my breath, never put myself into anyone’s hands like that. No one but you, and I want to tell you I love you, how fucking brilliant it feels to trust that way, to be fucked speechless, to be yours. But I am speechless, can’t gather my voice or the words so I tighten my arms about you, needful, craving your care.
You murmur against my ear, voice low, gentle. Closing my eyes and pressing my face against your neck, exhaling against your skin I can’t stop the whimper, the shiver that takes me as you slide free, pulling out. Feels as if you’ve loved every single part of me, inside and out, and everything’s tender to the touch, hypersensitive. Feels bloody marvelous, it does.
Rolling us on the bed, half on top of me you hold me for what feels like a long while. I curl under you, hands moving restlessly on you as if reassuring myself that you’re solid and real, and I swear I can still feel your fingers curled about my neck, your cock ramming in. You give me time to surface, whispering lovely nonsense against my hair, patiently waiting as the last bit of restless energy burns itself out. Christ, I’ve gone clingy and I hope to hell you don’t mind, but I need you close.
Quiet minutes tick past, and after a while you pull away, just long enough to snag a towel and swipe my belly clean, then you’re back. In the wake of you, our loving, I’m going boneless, the hot glow of orgasm fading, easing me down into a depthless satiation. You slide home against me and I instantly snuggle against your chest, eyes slowly opening. You’re watching me, gaze intent. I’m still needing the words to come, and I have to say something, anything, just to let you hear in my voice how bloody well you’ve moved me. Hands coming up to frame your face, staring into you, I give you your name as a low, rough whisper.
“Karl, love.”
Your eyes widen slightly and tightening my hold, still feeling so needful, I pull you down, pressing my mouth against yours, trusting you're hearing all that I'm trying to say.
Karl: Just like that, I know everything is going to be all right. Love. That's the important thing, the rest is just details. We both have long careers ahead of each other and sometimes we won't be able to be together. But we'll always come back to each other. That's what this is.
My mouth is gentle, lips rubbing. I sigh happily.
NC-17
