[ 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
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]