[ 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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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. ]