[ When Anakin releases his balls, his skin is prickling hotly in the wake of his fingers, his cock feeling hard and throbbing, impatient, more so than him, really. He gives the other man his time, to take it in, to decide, without pressuring him about it. Hurrying him up. It doesn't have to be like that, he's realized in hindsight. It doesn't have to feel like every choice is pulled from your grasp, leaving you without the ability to say either yes or no. He won't be the person to make Anakin feel reduced to that, again. Instead he smiles as Anakin says yes, of course - though, it's never as self-evident as that, Claude doesn't assume, and watches him lying down, scrambling up the bed, making room for Claude between his legs, one bent, the other stretched out. His thighs are strong and muscular, a sprinkle of fine, blonde hair that thickens the closer to his crotch you get. His mouth feels suddenly slick and full, like he can taste all that kriffing potential there.
Then, he stops looking and starts moving, dropping to his knees on the edge of the bed, crawling closer, not looming in over him, though. It gets overwhelming, like taking and being stripped of the chance of proper reciprocity. Like your partner constantly staying out of reach, only to take for themselves what they want. Claude knows that feeling and he won't pass it onwards, he'd rather kriffing die.
His own cock is bobbing against his stomach, and he reaches up to still it with his free hand as he settles down between Anakin's legs, looking up over the whole display of him, honestly beating Coruscanti night skies and skylines. By lengths and lengths and lengths. He lets his eyes run down over Anakin's stomach, follows the trail he thinks he'll take with his tongue. Navel, abdomen, pelvis, cock. Without leaving him waiting, without leaving him to just lie there and wait in passivity which is the absolute worst anyway, unless mutually agreed upon, Claude places one hand next to his hip, on the side of his stretched out leg, and kisses his inner thigh before stretching and pressing a kiss right above his bellybutton. ]
Ticklish?
[ It doesn't require a fast answer. He darts his tongue out and drags it down in a half-circle around his navel with enough force that it probably won't trigger anything, if he is. He'd just like to know. Keeping himself up on one arm, he can actively smell him from here, the heavy scent of musk and arousal, warm skin, sweat. His own cock jerks in his grip and he gives it a lazy stroke as he licks his way downward. ]
[ He has to fight not to squirm around on his back in anticipation as Claude settles between his legs. His cock feels rock-hard, almost painfully so. He inclines his head, watching Claude, extremely uncaring about the view on his other side through the windows. The days are long gone when he was impressed by Coruscant - today, he mostly finds it noisy, busy and over-crowded. Besides, who'd care about something like that when Claude's about to give you a blowjob, what the kriff. He breathes out through his nose, muscles shivering, tension building up in his muscles the same way they'd do in any other high-alert situation; it's an automatic reaction, he thinks, after years of warfare. Tonight, it's harmless.
What a strange thought.
Claude leaves a hot, invisible imprint against his inner thigh. His belly. He leans his head back again, running one hand through his hair to get his bangs out of his face. ]
Not really.
[ Pause. He amends, like it's perfectly natural: ]
Well, in some places. Nerves are still recovering from the last mission - electrocution's a major bother. [ He realises quickly that this isn't a very sexy subject and immediately adds, craning his neck again to look at Claude: ] Nothing to worry about, mind. It just takes a little time, that's all.
[ He parts his legs a little more and reaches for Claude, running his metal hand over the top of his head and backwards, feeling his soft curls slide between his fingers. Leaning his head back against the bed with a slight thump, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his other hand. ]
[ They're having this nice conversation while Claude licks his way down over Anakin's abdomen, the hard plains of skin and flesh and muscle the perfect mix of soft and hard, receptive and unyielding, and he's so hard from it that it physically hurts, no matter how much he kriffing strokes himself. Exhaling long and hard while Anakin tells him about eletrocution as a work hazard, he doesn't even pause to consider it - Anakin's a Jedi, he saw him on Paris, he saw the kind of lengths he's willing to go to and can vividly imagine the situations he has seen himself forced into before. War's not news to him. War's not news to this world. War's obviously not news to Anakin Skywalker who brings electrocution into the bedroom. Nothing to worry about, mind.
Claude smiles.
Anakin wants to know if he's ruined the mood, his metal hand in his hair, running down over the back of his head. So, Claude shakes his head first, to not have to answer around a laugh, kissing a few select spots right where Anakin's pubic hair marks the line between innocent and not. Then, he raises his head enough to look up over the other man's chest, his chin, nose, brows. Mess of hair. Beautiful. You wouldn't think war could produce that, but here they are. ]
Anakin, I'm only going to take your nerve damage as a challenge, you realise.
[ It's not a joke at his expense, it's a joke to his benefit, because that's when Claude pushes himself a little further down the other man's body, more or less getting his hard cock in his eye and angles his face to push his half-open mouth to the base of it, the beautiful curve of shaft, right over his ballsack. That perfect transition. The scent is tenfold here. All musk. All heat. All salt. Claude is salivating. His cock is weeping hard.
He presses his tongue flat against the base and drags upwards slowly. Anakin's cock head is really sensitive, so he'll approach in stages. Get him worked up enough to more or less beg for it. Claude doesn't need the begging, sure, but it's a good indication for when he can give him the whole mouth experience, full suction, the wet, the narrow, the slide. As he moves upwards, he nibbles, letting his lips do the work, tongue tip following the thickness of a vein that leads in the same direction.
He tastes like himself. Like care and willingness and the man who worries whether he's ruined the mood. Claude doesn't think he could want anything more. ]
[ Claude, because he is lovely, continues kissing his way down his abdomen, pausing just to tell him that he'll take it as a challenge - Anakin very determinedly doesn't tell him that the Bacta treatment will, in time, fix any current issues because he might be a slow learner but he does eventually learn. Instead, he smiles, the expression a little shaky around the edges, and lies back down. Though he can't see much of him from this angle, he can sense the other man getting closer to his cock - his proximity, his body warmth, the feel of his exhalations against his naked skin. He closes his eyes and strokes his fingers through Claude's hair slowly, trying to control his breathing and failing miserably.
When Claude's mouth finally touches his cock - the base, right above his balls - Anakin swallows heavily and forces himself to keep still, his body aching to move, to get more, as quickly as possible. He's learned over the years that sex is better at a slower pace, that he likes it better that way as well, and tonight the pacing is definitely slow, like they're taking each step together, one after the other, none of them ever fighting to catch up. He likes the thought of that.
Of being with Claude the entire way, rather than fighting his way either to the top or to his side. ]
Force, that feels nice.
[ He chews on his bottom lip some more as Claude drags his tongue upwards along the length of him, steering clear of the head for now and finding other, sensitive places along the way. He stays as still as he can, letting Claude set the pace as he wishes, though he does slip up a little every other second, shifting his hips ever so slightly, trying to find whatever little friction he can on his own. ]
[ Anakin is good about it. He lets Claude rein back the pace a bit, let's him take his own pleasure from it too, crouched in over his lap, sitting with his knees spread and his own hard cock throbbing between his fingers. He feels like a natural continuation of the other man's body this way, like they complete each other in a very non-dramatic way. Easy. Comfortable. And because it's like that, he doesn't try to make Anakin stop from shifting his hips in against him every so often, every second minute, he just takes it, opening his mouth further, the longer he gets up his shaft and his cock feels kriffing enormous like this. Like there's no end in sight. Claude's drooling already and he hasn't even put his jaw out of commission which might actually be what will happen tonight. No one else he's been with have been this big.
He looks forward to the jaw ache.
Truly. Truly.
Finally feeling the swell of the head, Claude hears himself exhaling heavily and parts his lips, swollen now and wet from spit, over the glans, getting his teeth out of the way as he best can before opening his eyes and glancing up along the wide chest of the other man, the outline of face seen from beneath. Shoulders. Kriff, he's not going to last through this. He's very definitely not going to. Pushing his tongue out wantonly, he catches the underside of the head on it and more or less just slides Anakin in, tip first, lips closing right behind the slight ridge. He's enormous in his mouth, huge. Kriffing pushing at his mouth from the inside. Claude releases his own cock now to grab Anakin's by the slicked-up base, holding him still as he sucks him in another inch. He tastes salty. Musky. Manly.
Claude makes a sound he isn't even fully aware of himself, only halfway a groan, the other half he isn't going to answer for. ]
[ Oh - oh - Claude parts his lips over the head of his cock and just the feel of his breath against it, warm puffs of air, makes Anakin's breath stall in his chest. He tightens his fingers in Claude's hair just a fraction, mindful of his metal hand. All the same, he really... has to hold on a bit. Just slightly. Because half a second later, Claude's mouth closes over the head of his cock and the head slides in along his tongue whilst sparks dance in front of Anakin's eyes. He gasps, loudly, and shifts against the bed again, pleasure surging into his groin. He's so warm, Claude, like burning hot and wet, too. Tight. He grabs onto the sheets with his flesh hand and cradles them uselessly, trying not wriggle around. But - but it's so good, oh, and at some point, he might even get to go a little bit further in, just - ]
I - I forgot...
[ He fights to focus, to remember what he's supposed to ask. Without meaning to, he thrusts inwards very slightly, feeling that small sense of glide, of friction. Immediately, he forces himself not to - he knows he's not small and though he's never tried it himself (and kriff, now he's thinking about trying it, of course he is), he can't imagine getting choked on somebody's cock is all that exciting. He frowns, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think past the feel of wetness around the head of his cock along with the sounds Claude makes, like he's really enjoying himself.
Don't jeopardize that, Anakin, get to it! He grits his teeth. ]
Do you want to know when I'm...
[ So, yeah. Actually saying the words - do you want to swallow? - is proving too much of a challenge for the Hero With No Fear. ]
[ It dawns on him as he works Anakin's cock gradually deeper inside his mouth that he must have had other partners, most likely women who care and definitely women who've cared about him, as well as themselves. Because the other man halts himself, more or less halfway through a small thrust that wouldn't have pushed Claude off his game, definitely not, but being considered like that...? Yeah, you don't get that every day. Every night. He appreciates it more than he can say, literally, his mouth full of cock and the taste of Anakin who's warm and tastes like the colours red and orange, dust, earth, that kind of thing overwhelming his palate. Claude sinks down over his cock, letting go of the base, because he can steady him with the roof of his mouth like this, until the head pushes against the soft back of it, where it's almost throat, but not quite. Now he's going to appreciate if he doesn't thrust, right? But he doesn't believe he will. He's got manners.
It's safe, again. Claude doesn't feel unsafe with him.
Drawing back once more, giving him the slide and the friction he's asking for, Claude looks up along the width of his body, watching him through the curtain of his curly bangs. Anakin asks whether he wants to know when he comes, whether he swallows and a weird heat spreads in his chest, both removed and not from the heat beating in his crotch. As he pops Anakin's cock out of his mouth, precum sticking to his lips and a little bit to his chin, he shakes his head again. I'll know, it means, but he doesn't say it. Doesn't matter, what matters is that Anakin asked. Showed that kind of consideration. ]
Come in me.
[ The shortest way to say it, aside from a somewhat curt no. I appreciate you asking is implied in the soft way he catches the head of Anakin's cock between his lips again and sucks him all the way back, setting a slow, but steady rhythm of up and down, tightening his lips around the shaft as he goes up, to catch the right veins, the spots, the bulge of head before slipping his tongue into the slit, catching the essence of him there. The place he's most himself.
[ He has to squash down a groan of pure frustration when Claude pulls off his cock, the sudden loss of heat and tightness making his toes curl and his body tense. He takes the opportunity to manage a few, deep breaths, looking up at the ceiling briefly before he cranes his neck again, seeking Claude's gaze further down his body. The other man's lips look slightly swollen, his skin flushed and his pupils blown wide from arousal. His cock looks no less hard than Anakin's and he feels a small sting of sympathy at the sight. Mostly, though, his arousal seemingly doubles.
If Claude hasn't - then afterwards, Anakin is going to take him flying.
Claude then proceeds to toss him out of the kriffing window when he tells him, kindly but evenly, to come in me and sucks him into his mouth. Anakin's eyes widen and his head falls right back against the bed as he stares unseeingly upwards, pleasure building explosively in his body. His cock feels almost overstimulated, the head hitting the back of Claude's mouth at every instroke making his fist clench in the sheets. Soon, there's a rhythm to it, a pace, and Anakin times his breathing to it, his muscles clenching as he shifts on the bed, thrusting upwards very slightly in time because he can't not, he can't - and he keeps hearing Claude's voice in his head, soft and gentle, not a command (and that means something, too, that means more than he can currently process) but just - pointing the way forward, telling him it's fine, the path is fine, it's safe -
Releasing what little tension's left in him, he lets himself focus only on Claude's mouth around his cock and just like that, for a few, precious moments, everything comes back to that - the feel of Claude, of what Anakin's been given and he comes on a choked-up sound, something that might be a moan, strangled in other emotions, pleasure - weightlessness, like he's beyond his body and it's beyond him, in turn - rushing through him and drowning out everything else. ]
[ And although he didn't say it, Claude can feel it, as it builds, knows exactly how that rhythm feels when a mouth works you good, when the friction is even and just fast enough to add to the rest. He feels the way Anakin seemingly hardens impossibly on his tongue and he is mouthing at him, helping him along, taking him there. Lips tight around his shaft, tongue pushing up and supporting the heavy weight of his girth. He feels like everything, in his mouth. Like he's taking up all space. Like he's all there is. Claude kriffing loves it, his own cock feeling wet and warm over the tip, like he's getting himself all messed up for this man.
When Anakin comes, it's with his cock more of less buried in Claude's open mouth, head pushing over the very back of his tongue and he hollows his cheeks just a little bit to give it that sense of suction, knowing the other man is close, kriff, they're both close and he's not even touching himself. He's pulsing on Claude's tongue, the first load making his throat work instinctually to clear itself, the salty taste of his cum making Claude's heart race. It's so intimate, yeah. It's like taking someone and carrying them in your chest, in your guts.
The following loads are thicker, more, and he really comes, huh, all moaning and twisting and giving himself over. For a lot of reasons, Claude can't properly breathe, he just takes it, swallows him down dutifully. His cock is bouncing against his stomach as he shifts into a more comfortable position, keeping his mouth tight and wet around him only as long as it's bound to feel nice.
Then, the pulsing slowly subsides, the slight thrusting of his hips, and Claude draws back after a moment, feeling the hot, slick length of him slipping out of his body. Penetration's like that, any kind. He's gasping slightly, rising up on his arm and staring down at Anakin's blushing face, the way he's showing for it. What Claude did to him. How Claude's showing for what Anakin is doing to him.
Wherever it is you carry another man's orgasm, it feels doubly full now. He licks his lips, everything hot and cum-stained. His breathing sounds raw, though only half as much as his voice which has dropped a notch or two. Big, okay. ]
You good?
[ Leaning in over the other man slightly, both hands supporting him on either side at this point, Claude reaches up with his left and flicks a strand of hair out of Anakin's eyes. He's smiling, softly. ]
[ Claude swallows him up, his mouth working as Anakin spends himself down his throat and Anakin's holding onto the sheets, to Claude's hair, his lips parted as he writhes against him, pleasure flooding his body, his senses, everything. The other man sucks him all throughout, until the overarching wave of pleasure recedes into something a little less overwhelming, giving way to a heightened sensitivity and if Claude hadn't drawn back when he does, it would have probably become uncomfortable. He does, though. He's considerate like that. Anakin can't breathe for it - for the care within that sentiment, within everything Claude has done that has led them to this moment. Opening his eyes slowly, he blinks up at the air above him, seeing very little, whilst Claude shifts upwards, enough to slip his hair out of his face.
Anakin follows the trajectory of his hand, his fingertip. He feels wordless, heavy from falling and landing in such a soft place and it takes him a few moments to gather enough motor control to reach for Claude with both hands, pulling him up close. He holds the back of his head with his metal hand, fingers clenching and unclenching between his curls, trying not to pull or to get anything snagged between within the mechanics. He presses his other hand to Claude's hip, supporting him above him, encouraging him to find purchase like that in whichever way he likes.
Then, managing a slow, trembling smile, he nods and leans up, kissing him. He tastes himself on his lips though their scents have merged at this point, become complimentary rather than different or separate. It's his scent, it's Claude's. It's the both of them. Anakin loves the thought of that.
He parts his lips, slipping his tongue back inside the heat of Claude's mouth and giving him ample space to mirror him if he chooses. Then, he reaches down a bit further, blindly, and curls his fingers around Claude's cock. His hand is damp from sweat and when he presses his thumb over the bared head, he catches the precum there and spreads it out, using it to slick up his own fingers a little bit more. He doesn't touch him lightly, not as such; Claude has waited, after all.
[ Anakin welcomes him. He opens his arms to him and drags him down, metal hand in his hair and the other supporting him by the hip until he finds proper purchase against the mattress with a knee on either side of Anakin's warm, heavy thigh. Everywhere they touch is heat and softness. It's not just the stench of sex permeating the room now, there's care there, too. There's want and there's lust and there's care. Claude exhales heavily as Anakin's flesh hand closes around his cock, dragging upwards as he rubs his thumb over the bared head, wet from precum and his whole lower body sings, his muscles tensing as he pushes into his grip, a little bit desperately, because he's waited this one out. He's been patient, he's been good. He doesn't think about where he'd usually hear those words, that space doesn't exist between Anakin and him.
Claude makes a soft sound, not quite a groan but almost, as he kisses Anakin back, lets him take his mouth, his own cum, the taste of himself, mixed with Claude's taste and his sensations and his experiences and everything they're sharing in this very moment beyond spit and body heat. Pushing his own tongue in along Anakin's, he gives him back the fragments of him that he's taken, blowing him, knowing instinctually that they aren't his to keep, they were a borrowed thing. What you take in these situations, you give back, or you're robbing someone else of themselves.
Never.
Never.
Against his cock, Anakin's hand feels gentle and careful, if not exactly light. It's not a light touch, it's just careful. Claude treasures it, but he's also thirsting and he angles his hips upwards a bit, canting them in against Anakin's palm and rubbing his whole shaft against the heat there, the slick, the tight little hole. Oh. Pacing his breathing, he breaks away from the kiss, gasping hard and pressing his forehead against Anakin's, their hair obstructing his view in a mix of dark and light.
Feels appropriate. ]
Feels amazing, Anakin, don't - [ A hitch in his breathing and he bites his lower lip before leaning in, finishing the sentence before capturing the other man's lips once more. ] - don't stop.
[ Within long, they strike up a pace that feels a bit like ascending alongside each other, going somewhere that's merely unknown without being scary and Anakin hasn't thought of anything like that for a long time; that sometimes, things aren't there to be overcome, that sometimes, a dune is just a dune and once you've traversed it, you'll simply walk the next one and then, the next. Though he's grown up without much semblance of security, there were always small patches of quiet. Of peace, secluded and incredibly, irreversibly private. It was his.
And so is this, he thinks.
Nodding against Claude's forehead, he keeps his hand working. The angle's not a problem anymore - he's got it, it's easy. Claude's trusting into his palm as well, helping them both along. When they kiss again, he takes Claude's mouth just a little forcefully, licking into him. He runs his thumb over the damp head of his cock and presses down slightly before pulling away and turning his head, lips gliding over the shell of Claude's ear. His curls tickle his lips. ]
I won't, my love - don't worry. Keep going.
[ It has never been in Anakin's nature to hold off on his endearments, particularly not in heated moments and right now, honestly, it feels very right, it feels like he loves Claude, like he might have loved him for a while, too. It's a new kind of love, too. It feels tied to a part of Anakin that he hasn't dealt with in years and years, but not in a bad way, in a way that screams and bleeds on the sands of his memory. It's not that. Rather, it's a bit like opening a door to the warmth of something that must have been home, once, when things were simpler.
He blinks against the wetness in his eyes and adds, voice hoarse: ]
[ Before Rainier, Claude knew that intimacy came in degrees, that you could measure it by closeness, how much of another person you wanted to absorb into yourself. After Rainier, every degree knew its dangers and he hasn't been very good with any of them, he hasn't been able to release enough control to grab and grab and grab - and fall and fall fall, knowing his desperate hands would be caught by someone else. This feels different, this feels like trusting and falling and not being afraid, neither of being caught, nor of not being caught. Either is fine. Any version, it's fine.
Anakin's hand is tight and slick around his length, feels like overheating and friction and his thumb over the head, leaving imprints in spit and in skin. Claude is gasping for it, his hips snapping forward again and again, until the rhythm is as perfect as it'll ever be and there's only the surrender left.
The fall. Dare, it tells him. It's then that Anakin turns his head and speaks into Claude's ear, muttering gentle encouragements, my love...
Let me take you there.
It overpowers him like something forceful and at the same time really kriffing soft, like a surprise of some kind, like he hadn't seen this coming. It all ends here, but it surprises him anyway and he moans, harsh, broken, sounding ragged and teary, throaty, his cock spurting cum all over Anakin's front between them, leaving him messy and touched in the wake of it. Like Claude's claiming him, like he's putting his mark there, mine, mine, mine. His eyes feel wet at the corners and his breathing hurts his lungs as he gallops after his orgasm, tumbling, falling, his upper arms trembling from the strain of keeping himself up, hoisted above Anakin's body beneath him.
He looks down through tear-sticky eyelashes. Finds him completely, utterly beautiful. There's not room for any more thought than that, his body sated and warm and burning in every shivering muscle.
Not caring about his spunk, he eases himself down on top of the other man slowly. Gasps something out that doesn't make any real sense. Please, first and foremost. Don't... Don't, don't, don't. And while he doesn't even know himself what he's asking for, Claude knows Anakin has already given it to him. ]
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no subject
Then, he stops looking and starts moving, dropping to his knees on the edge of the bed, crawling closer, not looming in over him, though. It gets overwhelming, like taking and being stripped of the chance of proper reciprocity. Like your partner constantly staying out of reach, only to take for themselves what they want. Claude knows that feeling and he won't pass it onwards, he'd rather kriffing die.
His own cock is bobbing against his stomach, and he reaches up to still it with his free hand as he settles down between Anakin's legs, looking up over the whole display of him, honestly beating Coruscanti night skies and skylines. By lengths and lengths and lengths. He lets his eyes run down over Anakin's stomach, follows the trail he thinks he'll take with his tongue. Navel, abdomen, pelvis, cock. Without leaving him waiting, without leaving him to just lie there and wait in passivity which is the absolute worst anyway, unless mutually agreed upon, Claude places one hand next to his hip, on the side of his stretched out leg, and kisses his inner thigh before stretching and pressing a kiss right above his bellybutton. ]
Ticklish?
[ It doesn't require a fast answer. He darts his tongue out and drags it down in a half-circle around his navel with enough force that it probably won't trigger anything, if he is. He'd just like to know. Keeping himself up on one arm, he can actively smell him from here, the heavy scent of musk and arousal, warm skin, sweat. His own cock jerks in his grip and he gives it a lazy stroke as he licks his way downward. ]
no subject
What a strange thought.
Claude leaves a hot, invisible imprint against his inner thigh. His belly. He leans his head back again, running one hand through his hair to get his bangs out of his face. ]
Not really.
[ Pause. He amends, like it's perfectly natural: ]
Well, in some places. Nerves are still recovering from the last mission - electrocution's a major bother. [ He realises quickly that this isn't a very sexy subject and immediately adds, craning his neck again to look at Claude: ] Nothing to worry about, mind. It just takes a little time, that's all.
[ He parts his legs a little more and reaches for Claude, running his metal hand over the top of his head and backwards, feeling his soft curls slide between his fingers. Leaning his head back against the bed with a slight thump, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his other hand. ]
Please tell me I didn't just ruin the mood.
no subject
Claude smiles.
Anakin wants to know if he's ruined the mood, his metal hand in his hair, running down over the back of his head. So, Claude shakes his head first, to not have to answer around a laugh, kissing a few select spots right where Anakin's pubic hair marks the line between innocent and not. Then, he raises his head enough to look up over the other man's chest, his chin, nose, brows. Mess of hair. Beautiful. You wouldn't think war could produce that, but here they are. ]
Anakin, I'm only going to take your nerve damage as a challenge, you realise.
[ It's not a joke at his expense, it's a joke to his benefit, because that's when Claude pushes himself a little further down the other man's body, more or less getting his hard cock in his eye and angles his face to push his half-open mouth to the base of it, the beautiful curve of shaft, right over his ballsack. That perfect transition. The scent is tenfold here. All musk. All heat. All salt. Claude is salivating. His cock is weeping hard.
He presses his tongue flat against the base and drags upwards slowly. Anakin's cock head is really sensitive, so he'll approach in stages. Get him worked up enough to more or less beg for it. Claude doesn't need the begging, sure, but it's a good indication for when he can give him the whole mouth experience, full suction, the wet, the narrow, the slide. As he moves upwards, he nibbles, letting his lips do the work, tongue tip following the thickness of a vein that leads in the same direction.
He tastes like himself. Like care and willingness and the man who worries whether he's ruined the mood. Claude doesn't think he could want anything more. ]
no subject
When Claude's mouth finally touches his cock - the base, right above his balls - Anakin swallows heavily and forces himself to keep still, his body aching to move, to get more, as quickly as possible. He's learned over the years that sex is better at a slower pace, that he likes it better that way as well, and tonight the pacing is definitely slow, like they're taking each step together, one after the other, none of them ever fighting to catch up. He likes the thought of that.
Of being with Claude the entire way, rather than fighting his way either to the top or to his side. ]
Force, that feels nice.
[ He chews on his bottom lip some more as Claude drags his tongue upwards along the length of him, steering clear of the head for now and finding other, sensitive places along the way. He stays as still as he can, letting Claude set the pace as he wishes, though he does slip up a little every other second, shifting his hips ever so slightly, trying to find whatever little friction he can on his own. ]
no subject
He looks forward to the jaw ache.
Truly. Truly.
Finally feeling the swell of the head, Claude hears himself exhaling heavily and parts his lips, swollen now and wet from spit, over the glans, getting his teeth out of the way as he best can before opening his eyes and glancing up along the wide chest of the other man, the outline of face seen from beneath. Shoulders. Kriff, he's not going to last through this. He's very definitely not going to. Pushing his tongue out wantonly, he catches the underside of the head on it and more or less just slides Anakin in, tip first, lips closing right behind the slight ridge. He's enormous in his mouth, huge. Kriffing pushing at his mouth from the inside. Claude releases his own cock now to grab Anakin's by the slicked-up base, holding him still as he sucks him in another inch. He tastes salty. Musky. Manly.
Claude makes a sound he isn't even fully aware of himself, only halfway a groan, the other half he isn't going to answer for. ]
no subject
I - I forgot...
[ He fights to focus, to remember what he's supposed to ask. Without meaning to, he thrusts inwards very slightly, feeling that small sense of glide, of friction. Immediately, he forces himself not to - he knows he's not small and though he's never tried it himself (and kriff, now he's thinking about trying it, of course he is), he can't imagine getting choked on somebody's cock is all that exciting. He frowns, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think past the feel of wetness around the head of his cock along with the sounds Claude makes, like he's really enjoying himself.
Don't jeopardize that, Anakin, get to it! He grits his teeth. ]
Do you want to know when I'm...
[ So, yeah. Actually saying the words - do you want to swallow? - is proving too much of a challenge for the Hero With No Fear. ]
no subject
It's safe, again. Claude doesn't feel unsafe with him.
Drawing back once more, giving him the slide and the friction he's asking for, Claude looks up along the width of his body, watching him through the curtain of his curly bangs. Anakin asks whether he wants to know when he comes, whether he swallows and a weird heat spreads in his chest, both removed and not from the heat beating in his crotch. As he pops Anakin's cock out of his mouth, precum sticking to his lips and a little bit to his chin, he shakes his head again. I'll know, it means, but he doesn't say it. Doesn't matter, what matters is that Anakin asked. Showed that kind of consideration. ]
Come in me.
[ The shortest way to say it, aside from a somewhat curt no. I appreciate you asking is implied in the soft way he catches the head of Anakin's cock between his lips again and sucks him all the way back, setting a slow, but steady rhythm of up and down, tightening his lips around the shaft as he goes up, to catch the right veins, the spots, the bulge of head before slipping his tongue into the slit, catching the essence of him there. The place he's most himself.
Claude wants to be most himself there, too. ]
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If Claude hasn't - then afterwards, Anakin is going to take him flying.
Claude then proceeds to toss him out of the kriffing window when he tells him, kindly but evenly, to come in me and sucks him into his mouth. Anakin's eyes widen and his head falls right back against the bed as he stares unseeingly upwards, pleasure building explosively in his body. His cock feels almost overstimulated, the head hitting the back of Claude's mouth at every instroke making his fist clench in the sheets. Soon, there's a rhythm to it, a pace, and Anakin times his breathing to it, his muscles clenching as he shifts on the bed, thrusting upwards very slightly in time because he can't not, he can't - and he keeps hearing Claude's voice in his head, soft and gentle, not a command (and that means something, too, that means more than he can currently process) but just - pointing the way forward, telling him it's fine, the path is fine, it's safe -
Releasing what little tension's left in him, he lets himself focus only on Claude's mouth around his cock and just like that, for a few, precious moments, everything comes back to that - the feel of Claude, of what Anakin's been given and he comes on a choked-up sound, something that might be a moan, strangled in other emotions, pleasure - weightlessness, like he's beyond his body and it's beyond him, in turn - rushing through him and drowning out everything else. ]
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When Anakin comes, it's with his cock more of less buried in Claude's open mouth, head pushing over the very back of his tongue and he hollows his cheeks just a little bit to give it that sense of suction, knowing the other man is close, kriff, they're both close and he's not even touching himself. He's pulsing on Claude's tongue, the first load making his throat work instinctually to clear itself, the salty taste of his cum making Claude's heart race. It's so intimate, yeah. It's like taking someone and carrying them in your chest, in your guts.
The following loads are thicker, more, and he really comes, huh, all moaning and twisting and giving himself over. For a lot of reasons, Claude can't properly breathe, he just takes it, swallows him down dutifully. His cock is bouncing against his stomach as he shifts into a more comfortable position, keeping his mouth tight and wet around him only as long as it's bound to feel nice.
Then, the pulsing slowly subsides, the slight thrusting of his hips, and Claude draws back after a moment, feeling the hot, slick length of him slipping out of his body. Penetration's like that, any kind. He's gasping slightly, rising up on his arm and staring down at Anakin's blushing face, the way he's showing for it. What Claude did to him. How Claude's showing for what Anakin is doing to him.
Wherever it is you carry another man's orgasm, it feels doubly full now. He licks his lips, everything hot and cum-stained. His breathing sounds raw, though only half as much as his voice which has dropped a notch or two. Big, okay. ]
You good?
[ Leaning in over the other man slightly, both hands supporting him on either side at this point, Claude reaches up with his left and flicks a strand of hair out of Anakin's eyes. He's smiling, softly. ]
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Anakin follows the trajectory of his hand, his fingertip. He feels wordless, heavy from falling and landing in such a soft place and it takes him a few moments to gather enough motor control to reach for Claude with both hands, pulling him up close. He holds the back of his head with his metal hand, fingers clenching and unclenching between his curls, trying not to pull or to get anything snagged between within the mechanics. He presses his other hand to Claude's hip, supporting him above him, encouraging him to find purchase like that in whichever way he likes.
Then, managing a slow, trembling smile, he nods and leans up, kissing him. He tastes himself on his lips though their scents have merged at this point, become complimentary rather than different or separate. It's his scent, it's Claude's. It's the both of them. Anakin loves the thought of that.
He parts his lips, slipping his tongue back inside the heat of Claude's mouth and giving him ample space to mirror him if he chooses. Then, he reaches down a bit further, blindly, and curls his fingers around Claude's cock. His hand is damp from sweat and when he presses his thumb over the bared head, he catches the precum there and spreads it out, using it to slick up his own fingers a little bit more. He doesn't touch him lightly, not as such; Claude has waited, after all.
Unlike Anakin, he isn't yet still. ]
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Claude makes a soft sound, not quite a groan but almost, as he kisses Anakin back, lets him take his mouth, his own cum, the taste of himself, mixed with Claude's taste and his sensations and his experiences and everything they're sharing in this very moment beyond spit and body heat. Pushing his own tongue in along Anakin's, he gives him back the fragments of him that he's taken, blowing him, knowing instinctually that they aren't his to keep, they were a borrowed thing. What you take in these situations, you give back, or you're robbing someone else of themselves.
Never.
Never.
Against his cock, Anakin's hand feels gentle and careful, if not exactly light. It's not a light touch, it's just careful. Claude treasures it, but he's also thirsting and he angles his hips upwards a bit, canting them in against Anakin's palm and rubbing his whole shaft against the heat there, the slick, the tight little hole. Oh. Pacing his breathing, he breaks away from the kiss, gasping hard and pressing his forehead against Anakin's, their hair obstructing his view in a mix of dark and light.
Feels appropriate. ]
Feels amazing, Anakin, don't - [ A hitch in his breathing and he bites his lower lip before leaning in, finishing the sentence before capturing the other man's lips once more. ] - don't stop.
[ Close, it means. ]
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And so is this, he thinks.
Nodding against Claude's forehead, he keeps his hand working. The angle's not a problem anymore - he's got it, it's easy. Claude's trusting into his palm as well, helping them both along. When they kiss again, he takes Claude's mouth just a little forcefully, licking into him. He runs his thumb over the damp head of his cock and presses down slightly before pulling away and turning his head, lips gliding over the shell of Claude's ear. His curls tickle his lips. ]
I won't, my love - don't worry. Keep going.
[ It has never been in Anakin's nature to hold off on his endearments, particularly not in heated moments and right now, honestly, it feels very right, it feels like he loves Claude, like he might have loved him for a while, too. It's a new kind of love, too. It feels tied to a part of Anakin that he hasn't dealt with in years and years, but not in a bad way, in a way that screams and bleeds on the sands of his memory. It's not that. Rather, it's a bit like opening a door to the warmth of something that must have been home, once, when things were simpler.
He blinks against the wetness in his eyes and adds, voice hoarse: ]
Let me take you there.
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Anakin's hand is tight and slick around his length, feels like overheating and friction and his thumb over the head, leaving imprints in spit and in skin. Claude is gasping for it, his hips snapping forward again and again, until the rhythm is as perfect as it'll ever be and there's only the surrender left.
The fall. Dare, it tells him. It's then that Anakin turns his head and speaks into Claude's ear, muttering gentle encouragements, my love...
Let me take you there.
It overpowers him like something forceful and at the same time really kriffing soft, like a surprise of some kind, like he hadn't seen this coming. It all ends here, but it surprises him anyway and he moans, harsh, broken, sounding ragged and teary, throaty, his cock spurting cum all over Anakin's front between them, leaving him messy and touched in the wake of it. Like Claude's claiming him, like he's putting his mark there, mine, mine, mine. His eyes feel wet at the corners and his breathing hurts his lungs as he gallops after his orgasm, tumbling, falling, his upper arms trembling from the strain of keeping himself up, hoisted above Anakin's body beneath him.
He looks down through tear-sticky eyelashes. Finds him completely, utterly beautiful. There's not room for any more thought than that, his body sated and warm and burning in every shivering muscle.
Not caring about his spunk, he eases himself down on top of the other man slowly. Gasps something out that doesn't make any real sense. Please, first and foremost. Don't... Don't, don't, don't. And while he doesn't even know himself what he's asking for, Claude knows Anakin has already given it to him. ]