Another rush went through him at Macnair’s comment; it was a direction and a validation all wrapped in one and Ford was eager for either. He pushed all of his energy into kissing Macnair’s neck, that and continuing to grind his hips against him. He didn’t even notice that Macnair had started undoing his buttons on his shirt until all of the sudden Macnair’s hand was inside his clothes, touching his bare skin. This elicited another jolt, partly of arousal but partly of panic, too. Macnair was undressing him, and obviously Ford wasn’t going to stop him, which meant Macnair was going to see him undressed — see him naked, something that was entirely foreign to Ford. The only time anyone had ever seen him undressed before was when he’d been changing in his dorm room at Hogwarts, but that was different. He’d had no reason to believe that anyone was looking, back at Hogwarts, and he already knew how much Macnair liked to look at him.

The idea of being so utterly and entirely exposed was exhilarating but also a little terrifying. Maybe if Macnair was undressed at the same rate it would be less so, but — he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if Macnair wanted to be undressed, because he hadn’t told Ford to do that and Ford had no prior experience to fall back on, but… hopefully he wouldn’t mind, and if he did then he could just say as much (and that would be thrilling, too, wouldn’t it, to be corrected — just like when Macnair had grabbed his wrist to move his hand). Still kissing Macnair’s neck, Ford moved his hands to the other man’s shirt and fumbled with the top button, struggling to concentrate on both that and the kisses but unwilling to give up on the latter when Macnair had told him just like that. He managed to get the top one off and used one hand to brush Macnair’s collar back, exposing a wider section of his bare skin at his collarbone.

It was as though the sight of bare skin awakened something in him. Without thinking Ford moved one hand to Macnair’s neck and the other to his shoulder, holding him in place while Ford ran his tongue along the length of Macnair’s skin. He followed the curve of his body from the inside edge of his shoulder up to the just below his ear, then finished by lightly biting Macnair’s neck.

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Set by Lady!

Good, he thought as he felt Greengrass' hands slid up to his shirt, because that meant Greengrass was as good at taking physical cues as he'd hoped. He could have undressed himself if necessary—and in fact it was next on his list if Greengrass hadn't been able to do anything more than focus on tending to his neck—but Greengrass was managing it, and Valerian could only a little hum of approval. His eyes were still shut, and a lazy smile had settled on his mouth, his lips occasionally parting into a quiet gasp or moan whenever Greengrass' lips brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. He'd managed to get the rest of Greengrass' shirt unbuttoned, his hands gently running up and down the length of his chest, but he was unable to even think of pushing the fabric over and shoulders and onto the floor while so thoroughly captivated by the feeling of Greengrass' mouth on his neck.

And then something changed in Greengrass. He didn't know what caused it, but Merlin did he want to. Up until now Greengrass had been eager if not a little hesitant, but nothing he'd done was anything Valerian hadn't already done to him. But this... this was different, in a good way, and Valerian briefly felt his control slipping, his knees faltering. Before now, every way Greengrass had held him had been guided by Valerian, directed in a way to ensure the natural progression of things; but now Greengrass had gripped his neck with one hand and was holding him in place with the other, and he was using his tongue—and, oh, his teeth...

His knees buckled underneath him and his head leaned forward, a shaky moan passing through his lips. His fingers dug into Greengrass' chest, his nails not long enough to cause pain but enough to be felt. "Harder," he demanded, his voice firm and unwavering despite his legs, which seemed to be struggling to keep him upright, "With your teeth." He bucked his hips into Greengrass', craving more friction. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to be laying down but not sure if he was capable of movement.

"We have - to go - to bed," he ground out, not willing to demand Greengrass pull away unless he was ready. (Did he want him to be ready? Valerian wasn't sure.)

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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Macnair seemed to slump against him and Ford was once again panicking. Had he done something wrong? Was Macnair going to be upset by it? Ford had lost sight of reality for a moment, because he hadn’t even thought about running his tongue over Macnair’s skin until he’d done it, much less about biting him. But then Macnair said harder. Ford responded with a hum of acknowledgement, incapable of words at the moment, and dove for his neck again. He kissed Macnair more forcefully, pulling some of his skin into his mouth, then did just as he was directed and used his teeth. He repeated that again on a different area of his neck, then another — kiss, bite, kiss, bite — building firmer and firmer and trying to gauge Macnair’s reactions, finding the right level to give him what he wanted without hurting him.

Bed — the idea had not even occurred to Ford, and he didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to make sense of it. Had he been cognizant enough of his surroundings to recognize that as the escalation it was, it might have given him pause. Instead, he barely registered what that meant, going to bed. Macnair’s commands were intoxicating; Ford might as well have been drunk for how well he was processing new information, and so he fell back on what he’d already decided a moment ago — that he wanted to do anything he could to please Macnair tonight, to give him what he wanted.

“Okay,” he said breathily. He stopped kissing Macnair for a moment and let his hands trail from where they had been on the man’s neck and shoulder down to rest lightly over his chest. He was still far more buttoned-up than Ford was — should they fix that before they went to bed? Ford’s eyes moved from Macnair’s buttons to his face, waiting expectantly for some sort of cue — he didn’t even know where bed was, in this strange empty house, so he didn’t know what to do next.

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Set by Lady!

Reasonably he knew that anyone could be a good lover with time, but it didn't change his surprise at how easily Greengrass seemed to understand what he meant by his commands. The feeling of the other man's teeth on his neck was painful, but in the best way possible. He let out a series of hisses and gasps and moans and unintelligible pleas, each time Greengrass' teeth dug into his skin sending a jolt of electricity down his neck and through his chest, causing him to shudder. He'd been bitten enough times to know that he'd wake up in the morning with a series of red welts on his neck, proof that Greengrass' passion was not imagined but very, very real.

As Greengrass pulled away, his mouth vanishing in an instant and his hands falling to his chest, Valerian felt a surge of outrage, because how dare he stop? But, of course, before so much as a  look of disdain could find its way to his face he remembered that he'd been the one to dole out that command. (A necessary one, because he'd hate himself if he ended up taking Greengrass on the empty floor of the sitting room.)

He took a moment to recover his breath, a hazy look to his eyes as he found Greengrass' watching him expectantly. He finally registered what the other man had said—okay. It was another verbalization of Greengrass' desire, of permission. He wanted this—and thankfully just as much as Valerian wanted it, too, because he didn't think he could have managed to stop had Greengrass expressed reservations about going to bed.

Slowly and silently, he pushed Greengrass' shirt over his shoulders, fighting the urge to wrench his gaze away from Greengrass' to look down at his chest. But he kept his gaze fixed on Greengrass', a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he moved to finish unbuttoning his own shirt.

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Ford waited expectantly for Macnair to make the next move, lightly chewing his lower lip (which was more sensitive than usual, but he probably ought to have expected that given everything that had just happened). Macnair pushed his shirt to the floor and Ford shivered, not from cold but from the fact of having been undressed. He kept watching Macnair, but when the other man's hands moved to his own shirt Ford couldn't prevent himself from protesting.

"Wait," he pleaded, without thinking or even knowing what he wanted to say until the words were already out of his mouth: "Let me."

He met Macnair's eyes long enough to be sure he had the other man's approval to continue, then let his gaze fall back to his chest. He'd only gotten the first button undone before being distracted, so he turned his attention to the second. His hands were shaking as he unfastened it, but Ford didn't know from what. As the button came undone he used his hands to spread the fabric apart, revealing more of Macnair's chest, then dipped his head to kiss him there on the newly exposed skin. His hands moved down the buttons, and his mouth moved a little lower, too — not all the way down, because he was taking more time with his kisses than he was with the buttons, but just to the top of Macnair's ribcage. When the shirt was loose Ford ran his hands up the length of the other man, over his ribs and his chest and around his shoulders as he pushed the shirt off, culminating with Ford having risen back to eye level again.

"Thanks," he mumbled quietly, as though Macnair had just given him a gift.

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Set by Lady!

It was... insanely arousing, really, to watch the formerly-timid Greengrass stop him in his tracks, his hands raising to the buttons just as Valerian let his own hands fall away. With an excited gleam in his blue eyes he watched as Greengrass fumbled with the buttons, pulling the fabric apart to place kisses down his chest. The muscles in his torso contracted with each kiss, though he tried his best to keep himself from getting too into it, lest he forget his intention to get them up the stairs. He almost did, though, especially as Greengrass' lips brushed against his ribcage, causing his arousal to twitch under his trousers, and in the moment all he wanted was Greengrass to continue down a little further...

But that was too much to ask, at least right now.

Finally Greengrass managed to undo his shirt completely, pushing it off his shoulders and resuming his upright stance. His lips twitched at the thanks, because clearly it was Valerian who ought to be thanking him—but that would break the carefully-crafted illusion that Valerian was in control and not one unexpected touch away from losing it altogether.

He raised his hand and drew a finger over Greengrass' red and swollen bottom lip, dragging it downwards over his chin, down his throat, and down the length of his chest until it settled right above his line where his naked torso met his pants.

"Follow me," he breathed, hooking his finger into Greengrass' pants right where the button was and pulling him forward as he began a steady backwards walk towards the exit of the sitting room.

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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Ford would have followed him anywhere, after the way Macnair had just run his finger down his body as though he already owned it. He nodded, which was all he could do since a lump had risen in his throat that made speech impossible. He would have thought this part would be unnerving, having to exist in a state of partial undress in the other man's presence, under the other man's gaze, without any kissing to distract him. The way that Macnair was leading him by the front of his trousers was incredibly arousing, though, so was proving more than enough distraction to keep him from feeling self conscious.

Ford focused on Macnair's eyes and his body as he led him out of the room, and he didn't pay much mind to anything else until they entered the bedroom. This was such a stark contrast to the rest of the empty house that Ford couldn't help but look around in something like wonder. It was lavish, at least by Ford's standards. It brought to mind a comment Macnair had made earlier, about furnishing the most important areas first. He had planned this night down to the last detail, and Ford was a little pleased to realize it. There was something distinctly satisfying about the idea of Macnair having expended some degree of effort in planning to seduce him, instead of it just being a whim from one loaded conversation at the club.

Turning his attention back to Macnair, Ford reached out and wrapped his arms around him, his hands moving from the front of the other man's stomach over his sides and then to the small of his back. The gesture was tentative, almost inquisitive, and Ford's gaze as he found Macnair's eyes again was expectant. He knew what he wanted, but hoped not to verbalize it because to do so would have cheapened it. Tell me what to do.

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Set by Lady!

The journey up to the bedroom took far too long and was not at all helped by the fact that Valerian remained determined to keep his eyes on Greengrass the entire way there. Finally they arrived, and Valerian was immediately relieved to be outside the emptiness of the sitting room and here, in the room he'd spent so much time getting into order while waiting for the day of Greengrass' visit to arrive. The wallpaper was extravagantly patterned with purple, gold, and reds, and the rest of the room was furnished and decorated accordingly. To say he felt more in control might have been pushing it, if only because he couldn't imagine having any more control over this situation than he already had with Greengrass trailing behind him, but he definitely felt more in his element. He brought them to a halt a few feet from the edge of the four-post bed and in the center of a large rug on the middle of the floor, which seemed like a natural stopping point before navigating to the bed.

Greengrass stepped forwards and wrapped Valerian in his arms, sending a rush of warmth down his body that was somehow both comforting and exciting. He never liked to admit it—not even to long-term lovers, something he hadn't had in the years since his career had picked up—but there had always been something so comforting, so safe, about being enveloped in another man's arms. But that was something he could wait for, at least until they were finished. He ran his hands up the sides of Greengrass' arms, pressing his fingers over the smooth curve of muscle, and up the curve of his shoulders until finally slid up his jaw to cradle Greengrass' face. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, full, open-mouthed kiss to Greengrass' lips, but did not linger very long. He pulled back a few inches, his face still hovering in front of Greengrass', and flashed him a small smile.

"Finish what you started," he said, letting one hand trail all the way back down—down his neck, over his shoulder, down the length of his arm, where he took hold of Greengrass' wrist and redirected his hand to the waistline of his trousers. There he abandoned Greengrass' hand, letting his own hand wander across Greengrass hip, down to the top of his thigh, and then, watching him carefully as he did so, let his hand brush against the bulge in Greengrass' pants to gauge his reaction.

He'd decided that Greengrass was probably a virgin, at least where his involvement with men was concerned, but that didn't answer all of his questions. Had he kissed someone before? He thought it likely, seeing how Greengrass was around his mid-twenties. But had he been touched? Were these feelings—his desire towards men—something new, or something he'd always known about himself? He desperately wanted to know, but that could wait—right now, he more desperately wanted Greengrass to be his.

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   Angelica Selwyn, Fortitude Greengrass

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Ford felt another shiver at Macnair’s words, and a twitch below his belt. For just a hint of a second Ford wasn’t sure what Macnair meant by finish what you started, but a part of him did know, because when Macnair moved his hand to the front of his trousers Ford wasn’t at all surprised to find it there. It was the next logical step, wasn’t it? And if Ford had any doubts as to what Macnair meant, Macnair’s hand touching him would have made the matter crystal clear. He let out a gasp and pushed forward into Macnair’s hand, while moving his own hands to fumble at Macnair’s belt.

This was wrong, though — he didn’t want to be fumbling. Swallowing heavily to try and clear the lump in his throat, Ford moved away from Macnair’s hand, not because he wanted to stop Macnair from touching him but only because he couldn’t think of any way to keep that line of contact going while he followed the man’s directions, and the latter was more important at the moment than his own relief. Ford leaned down to kiss Macnair’s chest right where he’d left off downstairs, then further and further down — he was on his knees in front of the other man now to manage it — until he was just above the waistline of Macnair’s pants. His hands worked the buckle off deliberately, not fumbling, then the button beneath it. He pushed the clothing away to reveal the other man. A part of him wanted to just stare for a minute, but he didn’t want to seem as though he didn’t know what he was doing — and he especially didn’t want to seem as though he was having second thoughts. He moved his mouth to Macnair’s thigh. Ford could smell his arousal now as well as see it, which was an unexpectedly alluring thing to make note of. He reached up to stroke Macnair with one hand, while his other came to rest on the thigh he’d been kissing. Ford’s eyes went up to seek Macnair’s again, seeking some sort of affirmation or some confirmation that this was what Macnair wanted — then he took the plunge and ran his tongue along the length of him.

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Set by Lady!

Valerian was a little surprised to feel Greengrass pull away, especially a moment after he'd pushed his hips forward, gasping. It was an uncommon reaction—most men, from his experience, sought their own pleasure before eventually remembering to give it in return, and it was an especially uncommon reaction coming from someone getting used to the sensations. He'd seen the brief uncertainty in Greengrass' eyes—had even thought about guiding him even further—but the other man didn't seem to need much help once he pulled his hips backwards. Valerian watched with wide eyes as Greengrass sank lower towards the ground, the feeling of his lips and tongue against he skin forcing his abdominal muscles to contract involuntarily just as they had when Greengrass was unbuttoning his shirt.

And then, Greengrass was on his knees. His belt came off much quicker than his buttons had, and Greengrass wasted no time tugging the remainder of his clothes off his body, leaving him completely bare with Greengrass right in front of him. He swore his heart skipped a beat. Did Greengrass even know what he was doing? Did Greengrass even know what he was supposed to be doing? Or would he need to...?

No—clearly he would not.

First it was Greengrass' hand, gripping him, stroking him, touching him in a way so unexpectedly that he let out a shaky gasp-turned-moan. It was not the first time he'd been touched like that, but it was the first time Greengrass had touched him like that, and with those brown eyes staring up at his own so questioningly it was all he could not to beg for more.

But he didn't need to. Before Valerian could even recover his senses to give an affirming nod, Greengrass drew his tongue up the length of him, and a shudder ran down his spine, so violent that Greengrass had probably felt it. Immediately he brought his hands to the side of Greengrass' head to steady himself, his gaze still caught on Greengrass', he guided him through the motions, showing him what he liked best. Eventually his eyes grew heavy as the sensations overwhelmed him, and that was when he realized that if he didn't stop him soon he wouldn't get a chance to move beyond this.

Reluctantly—and Merlin wasn't that the understatement of the century—he pulled his hips away from Greengrass and angled the other man's head up to look him in the eye again. "It's your turn," he spoke softly, struggling to sound more firm and resolute with how deeply he was breathing. He sunk down to the floor just long enough to press a kiss to Greengrass' lips, and then rose back into a standing position, guiding Greengrass with him.

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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Ford didn’t know what he was doing — not really, not beyond impulse and instinct — but he could read that shudder well enough to know that Macnair liked it. He hadn’t expected to go much further, except maybe continuing to stroke Macnair, but when Macnair made it clear what he wanted Ford was perfectly happy to oblige. It was exciting, actually, not because of the feeling of it or the taste or the motion but because of how Macnair was reacting as Ford’s mouth moved on him. Ford was just starting to wonder what came next — not what came next for Macnair, because Ford obviously knew where that was headed from his own experiences with masturbation, but rather what Ford was supposed to do when it did. Before he could come up with any possible theories, though, Macnair had stopped him.

A lump formed in Ford’s throat at the words, having not expected this turn of events at all. Macnair sunk down to his level and kissed him while Ford was still trying to process that, and then he was pulling Ford up. Ford climbed back to his feet shakily, not sure what was going to happen next and even more unsure if he wanted it to happen. “Wh-what?” he asked, not sure whether he ought to expect an answer or whether Macnair was just going to do it.

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Set by Lady!

Although Valerian had thought the meaning behind the your turn comment was rather obvious, Greengrass didn't seem to think so. Valerian's hands found Greengrass' belt almost instinctively, because that was the natural progression of things, right? Greengrass had pleasured him, and now he would return the favor, because that's what was done. He paused, though, his fingers tangled in the belt buckle, and watched Greengrass with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering if he ought to explain himself or if this was one of the moments he could push past without the need to. He didn't let himself think about it too long, deciding he could do both; one hand expertly unbuckled Greengrass' belt while his other hand rose to cup Greengrass' jaw, his thumb swiping over his lips and down his chin, ridding of the leftover moisture.

"It's your turn," he whispered again, all the while pushing his fingers into the waistline of Greengrass' pants, lower and lower until his fingers indicatively brushed against the top of his arousal. He brought his other hand down to finish pushing Greengrass' pants down his hips until they eventually fell to the floor. He didn't want to do something Greengrass didn't want to do, but he couldn't imagine a scenario in which he didn't want this—not when he'd just been on his knees in front of him, not when he'd been so eager to give pleasure. Valerian leaned forward and pressed his lips against Greengrass' shoulder, kissing, sucking, and gently nipping at the area of skin. "I want you," he murmured, his fingers gently encircling the length of Greengrass' arousal. He'd been waiting for this, and for far longer than he was used to. He needed this.

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His belt was coming off, and Ford’s heart was racing. It was partly from arousal, of course, because how could he not find it enticing to be undressed, to have the other man’s hands on him, to hear him whispering into Ford’s skin — but partly it was panic. He hadn’t anticipated this. He couldn't handle this. He was going to make himself look foolish. He'd just had Macnair on the edge a moment ago, and now it was all going to go to hell, and Ford wasn't sure he could do anything to stop it. Because Macnair had his hands on Ford already, and now Ford's pants were down around his ankles, and how was he supposed to do anything now?

A shiver ran through him at the words I want you, and for a heartbeat or two he contemplated just letting this happen. When had anyone ever wanted him before? When would it ever happen again? What if he…

Macnair had him up against the edge of the bed, and the feeling of something solid against the back of his legs jolted him back to reality. Macnair was ducking, heading to the same place Ford had just been.

"Wait," he said abruptly. He tried to move backwards but his legs were already against the edge of the bed and there was nowhere to go, so instead he found himself losing his balance and sitting down too hard on the top of the bed. Mortifying, but still better than the alternative.

Except Macnair was going to want an explanation, and Ford didn't know what to say. "Don't — it's — I'd —" he sputtered, his cheeks flushed deep red. His erection twitched rather ridiculously in his lap. "It's, uhm. Been a long time," he admitted, so embarrassed he thought he could just die right there on the spot. A long time was an understatement, though, and Ford would rather have to verbalize this than he would have liked to deal with the consequences if he accidentally finished while Macnair had him in his mouth.

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   Angelica Selwyn

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Set by Lady!

For a good, long moment it seemed like Greengrass' question had gone answered with no further need for clarification, because Valerian had his hand wrapped around Greengrass' arousal and Greengrass hadn't said anything to suggest it shouldn't be there. He stroked slowly, peeking down from where his head was resting against Greengrass' shoulder, watching the way Greengrass' hips moved in response to his touch. He'd always liked receiving pleasure, but he liked to give it just as much.

It wasn't until he'd managed to get Greengrass turned around and backed up against the bed that it became apparent that it wasn't going to be that easy, and—well, that was okay, he supposed, because sometimes reassurance was necessary, and affirmation had always been an important part of enjoying these pleasures, but Valerian couldn't hide the confusion that crossed his face when Greengrass prevented him from putting his mouth on him. In an attempt to pull back, Greengrass had only managed to seat himself on the bed, leaving Valerian kneeling in front of him with a confused-but-also-amused look on his face. It didn't help that Greengrass was bright red, which immediately struck him as cute, but he couldn't bring himself to be pleased about it when it came at the cost of stopping.

"Been a long time for me, too," he admitted, though there was none of the embarrassment in his tone that Greengrass' possessed. He ran his hands up and down the lengths of Greengrass' thighs—a comforting gesture, or at least intended to be one. "It'll feel good, I promise." It was another out, but it was one he hoped Greengrass wouldn't take; neither of them had finished yet, and Valerian had hoped that they would get even farther than this. What a disappointment it would be for it to end here and now.

Slowly brought a hand up to Greengrass' arousal, running his fingers along the length but making no hasty movements. He kept his eyes on Greengrass, and this time it was his turn to give a pleading look—not for pleasure or touches, but permission. He wanted Greengrass to feel good, and if he needed to be eased into it for the sake of comfort... well, he could do that, too.

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As if Ford was worried that it wouldn't feel good! It already felt good, and Macnair hadn't even kissed him down there yet. Macnair wasn't even touching him with the right sort of rhythm, but just the feeling of someone else's hand on him was making his erection swell. Good god, Macnair had entirely missed his point. Obviously it was going to feel good — that was the whole problem.

"— but — what if I —?" he asked, unable to finish the question.

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Set by Lady!

Oh. Oh. The meaning was not lost on him this time, and it took everything in his power not to laugh, because Valerian didn't want Greengrass to think he was laughing at him. Rather, the matter of Greengrass accidentally finishing in his mouth wasn't something he'd even thought to worry about—it was completely inconsequential, actually, because at least it would mean Greengrass had enjoyed it. Now knowing that Greengrass' concerns lied less in whether or not he would like it and more in what would happen if he liked it too much, Valerian's wrapped his fingers more firmly around the other man. "Well," he teased lightly, his hand slowly and firmly stroking him with the intention of getting some sort of reaction out of him, "I did say I wasn't afraid of anything, didn't I?"

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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