Words proved much less necessary after that – how could Nick protest to that request?( In the back of his mind, there was something terrible about following him to his bed – as if there would have been some plausible deniability anywhere else, as if the sofa or the table or the floor would have reminded him this was as sordid as it was. On King’s bed, it felt oddly – natural,  normal, not the wrong that it should have.)

By the time they were horizontal, Nick was already breathless and half-hard in his impatience to untuck King’s shirt from his trousers, fumbling keenly with his buttons as his mouth moved towards the base of King’s neck and downwards still, the more skin that he exposed.

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Victory couldn't help small amusement at how inexperienced Blott seemed to be. Not so amused that his mood was killed though. Especially as Blotts mouth on the base of his neck and travelling downward was a sensation he found he has missed more than he had thought.

He helped the other unclothe and get himself unclothed in turn, his leg hooking around the others hip as he murmured guidance into the others ear on what he should be doing next.

  

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set by Lady!

He might have imagined being the one in control here, but Nick couldn’t help but be thankful for King at his ear, leading him on. It made things simpler, maybe: as if the burden of it was off his shoulders, as if he had ceded all personal responsibility for what happened here. He was just – following instructions. Playing along.

And this was not the first time he had done things like this with a... but this was a far cry from his former fumblings in the dark, a quick tug or some half-clothed friction. This was more intimate by half: he was now well-entwined with King’s body, caught between his legs and opening him up and grasping at him as he thrust into him, and again, and again. His thoughts grew scattered and his pace turned fervent. If he closed his eyes, it could have been anyone (– and never mind the leaner, flatter lines of King’s body or feeling the brush of his cock against his abdomen if he leaned a little too far in towards him).

With a groan, he spent himself inside King, spilling with a shameless satisfaction; however, once he had pulled out and finally stopped panting, the relief began to subside. There was – something exposing about having been the one to climax. Or at least that was how he explained the urge that abruptly took possession of him, as some urgent, necessary desire to repay the favour. It certainly wasn’t because he wanted to. Because instead of leaving things there as he should have, Nick knelt back on his knees without thinking and adjusted their position, and after a few strokes with his curled hand, he leant over and took King into his mouth.

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The following 1 user Likes Nick Blott's post:1 user Likes Nick Blott's post
   Emrys Selwyn

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Victory did his best to stifle the moans that Blotts actions were pulling from him once the initial pain of being entered gave itself into pleasure. It really had been too long since he had last let himself indulge in the touch of another. "Fuck," he grunted as Blotts pace turned fervent.

He smiled a bit lazily as the other finished. He was going to have to deal with that but that was a problem for later. He shuddered in the pleasure of it as Blott took him into his hand and into his mouth. It did not take long until his hands were in the others hair which he then tugged at in warning when he felt himself getting close to his own completion.

  

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set by Lady!

Fair was fair, and maybe this way King wouldn’t come back around and seek him out one day make things even? Nick rationalised it that way, and then sank back into that blissful, freeing state of just actions, no thinking, only conscious of his body and King’s. He was enjoying the pull of King’s hands in his hair a little too much as his head bobbed up and down to register it for the warning it was – so the last sudden thrust caught Nick almost by surprise, and he swallowed without quite meaning to.

Nor had he much meant to sprawl back on the bed next to King once he had disengaged himself. There were certain hazy thoughts in his head about clothes, and disapparating, and maybe another hit of cocaine, but he could not assemble them into any functional order, so instead he just – stayed where he was, basking in contentment. “I just need a minute,” he murmured to King, but if the other man answered him, his voice already came in indistinct. And so instead of leaving after that minute had stretched into two and then ten, Nick fell asleep.

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