[ Claude shivers, leaning into his lips whilst clearly working on keeping things together, on delivering. Meanwhile, something is seeping into the Force between them, something not unlike a touch of... anxiety? Not quite. Something like it. He frowns, pulling back from Claude's neck and looking up at him just as the other man pushes his fingers in, two at once. He takes a second to relax himself and there's a slight, unimportant burn - then, quickly, it dissipates, as Claude oh-so-carefully withdraws and pushes back in, Anakin's rim widening to accommodate the girth of his fingers. Those are... big fingers, actually, oh. For a few breaths, he can't focus on anything else; unlike the unfortunate vegetable he'd found in the kitchen, Claude's fingers are flexible and his body shapes itself around them, opening gradually in time with his thrusts.
He's never felt anything like it. It feels deeply intimate, so much that he almost can't breathe for it and he blinks. Impulsively, he curls one arm around Claude's neck and pulls him in a little, enough to press his forehead against his shoulder briefly. He shuts his eyes. Breathes deeply, then pulls back, lips gliding over Claude's earlobe, along the edge of his chin. ]
It's - it's nice. You are.
[ His voice is dark and rough, syllables trembling. He focuses on Claude again, on the feel of him, inside, outside - and there it is, yes, that note of tension and he smiles, warmth spreading in his chest. He's known no one like Claude, ever. ]
Don't be afraid. It's fine, you won't hurt me.
[ He bears down slightly on Claude's fingers, bringing them in deeper, feeling that stretch, delicious and sharp, perfect. ]
[ Anakin is so giving, yeah. The way he slips his arm around Claude's neck and pulls him close, forehead against his shoulder as Claude penetrates him, takes up that space, feels what he's like inside out. Like he didn't know. Claude would know even if he'd never touched him at all. Breathing raggedly, he turns his head in against the side of Anakin's face and smells his own breath on him, beyond that, his ass, his sweat, every single thing Anakin has given him since they began this wonderful, strange thing they're sharing now.
About to withdraw his fingers and maybe rub at the other man's rim some more, loosen him up a bit first, preparing him, Anakin simply -- decides for himself, bearing down on them enough to push them further inside, until Claude's fingers are buried to the knuckles in his ass. It's so hot and tight and his cock is going in there, how did Rainier ever make room...? He pushes the thought aside, just as Anakin seems to touch down on the thing hanging between them. Don't be afraid, he says, sounding dark and rough and soft and gentle at the same time. They're touching everywhere and Claude has never had anything like this, he's never had anyone like him. Amazing Anakin. Breathing deep through his nose, he angles his head enough to run his mouth over Anakin's jawline, the roundness of his cheek until he finds his mouth, blindly, kissing him deeply. Soft tongue. Warmth. Heat. The tight cavity of it. Claude wants in. He wants in him.
Then, he starts pulling out his fingers, feeling the slide and making in pleasantly slow so Anakin will feel it, too, that stretch and all the nerve endings and the friction of skin against the sides of his asshole. Just thinking about it is making Claude feel dizzy from want. Does he still want him?
If Anakin even has to ask, he's doing something wrong.
Groaning loudly, he starts a slow fucking motion, burying into him in intervals, filling him out completely, feeling his ass stretch and give and accomodate, because it can take so much more. Anakin can take so much more. He's been sent to war. He's a Jedi. He knows Claude is afraid. Of hurting him, only that.
As he pulls out of the kiss, he's gasping, pressing his forehead to Anakin's and staring into his face, almost desperately. His own cock is mostly just hurting at this point, throbbing and leaking precum everywhere. ]
Gonna push a third in now. After that, a fourth. I'm big, it'll still stretch...
[ Like that, he aligns his ring finger with the others and on the next instroke, pushes it past Anakin's already stretching rim. Slow glide. Give him time. But Anakin has already shown, if he wants it, he'll take it for himself. He'll take that and more. ]
[ The kiss is slow and deep, lots of tongue, and Anakin relaxes into it, the taste of sex a lovely mix of the two of them, of everything Claude's given him and whatever he's managed to return. When Claude starts fucking him with his fingers, going deep, seemingly taking up all available space (though, Anakin knows he can handle more, it all sort of... expands in there, it's weird but interesting), Anakin has to concentrate for a moment, forcing himself not to clench up. His body isn't used to anything going in and it feels equal parts pleasurable and strange, like something he'd love to get used to. When Claude breaks the kiss, he manages to hold back a whine of disapproval only just, his lips still parted, feeling wet and open and lonely without him. ]
I - oh...
[ He breathes in sharply as Claude adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely noticeable now, not painful but undeniable, his mind incapable of focusing on anything else. When he accidentally tightens up around Claude's fingers, his eyes actually widen from the sudden, bright spark of pain - oh, so that's what not to do, got it. He breathes out. Relaxes. The pain disappears. ]
You could skip that, if you want. Think I'm getting the hang of it.
[ They're gonna need slick, though, whether or not Claude wants to skip ahead. He can feel the other man's fingers getting a little dry and that'll get awkward, at length. Closing his eyes, he does that thing that Obi-Wan would chastise him for doing and lifts the small bottle of lube from the bedside table. It floats over them, ending up by Claude's free hand as Anakin runs his metal fingers through his curls, taking care not to get any strands caught in the machinery. Padmé has long hair. He's an expert. ]
[ There's a moment. A moment when Anakin actually tightens around him and Claude almost wants to mutter against him, don't, you'll hurt, it'll hurt, but the other man seems to make that same observation himself, eyes wide and they're staring at each other like this, while Claude slows down his thrusts, both to give Anakin's ass rim time to adjust, but also to give Anakin himself time. To take it, to feel that he's taking it, the feeling of penetration probably foreign and new to him. Claude's cock is weeping and he wants to reach down and palm himself or grab himself or something, but a part of him wants to just feel it. All of it. The longing and the want and the pain of it, of waiting.
At this point, his fingers are drying up and they shouldn't, it'll get uncomfortable very quickly. About to cuss and lean over for the lube on the bedside table, Anakin... apparently gets there first, because the bottle floats through the air, landing neatly next to his free hand and Claude takes a second to stare, thinking Force and Force user, and then he smiles, leaning in to kiss Anakin on the nose before unscrewing the bottle one-handedly, his fingers getting covered in the cool, thick lube. ]
Good for us. Bad for us is, I'm not. Give me a moment, okay?
[ Breathing fast and desperate now, Claude withdraws his fingers from Anakin's ass, smears them all up in lube too, before pushing the little finger in against the rest and starting the painstaking process of inching most of his kriffing hand past Anakin's swollen, open rim, fucking into him in slow, small wriggling motions.
He gives.
He kriffing gives. His ass opening up around Claude's fingers gradually, a bit stubbornly, too. Like Anakin. Claude is panting. With his other hand, also still covered in lube, he reaches down finally and grabs his cock at the base, squeezing once before slowly slicking himself up.
It's almost enough to make him go cross-eyed. He meets Anakin's gaze. ]
[ Give me a moment says Claude, confirming that yes, there's something there, something about carefulness and worry and maybe more but Claude proceeds to press his little finger in along with the rest and Anakin's done trying to figure him out for now. Oh. Oh. He groans and spreads his legs slightly, shifting. He's suddenly full to the brim, it feels like - Claude's fucking into him in slow motions, his fingers slick. Like this, he can't close up at all; instead, he has to stay relaxed, stay open and receptive and he loves it, the feel of it, of simply letting the other man in.
Anakin has lived with secrets for many, many years. And as opposed to his name, his mind, his emotions - those secrets own him, in ways that he can never seem to get around.
It's nice, this. The opposite. ]
I know.
[ He runs his metal hand down the back of Claude's neck. The sensors tell him smooth and damp - the warmth doesn't translate quite so well but that hardly matters when he's got the other man's fingers buried in his body. He shifts, keeping his left leg slung around Claude's lower back, holding on that way and staying open to him simultaneously. He cranes his neck upwards, his abdominal muscles flexing as he pulls himself closer, speaking against the shell of Claude's ear: ]
Looking forward to it. [ A hot exhalation against the other man's skin. ] Go in all the way, if you can. I haven't tried that before.
[ Because honestly, once he'd managed about two inches of that vegetable, he'd decided that he didn't need any further training, thanks. ]
[ As Anakin slides his metal hand down over Claude's neck, Claude leaving damp traces all over his mechanics, Claude feels the last bit of control slip. It doesn't help when Anakin, completely effortlessly, lifts himself up to be able to whisper in Claude's ear, all dark muttering voice and Claude can actually feel his balls drawing up slightly. Hard and aching and he wants to go, he needs to go, he needs... Exhaling sharply, he forces himself to carefully extract most of his hand from Anakin's ass, feeling how he is gaping wide and ready and Claude settles in over his body, open and receptive now, leaning on his one arm while the other hand is grabbing his cock, leading it to his asshole, briefly just tracing the rim there, feeling the muscle, the tightness, the heat. Feeling him, all that he is, because Anakin expands, he expands like no one else Claude has ever met in his entire life.
Swallowing once, he leans into the other man's touch, leans in against his face and kisses him again, lighter this time, to allow him to breathe and speak and be loud in whatever way he wants, while simultaneously he starts pressing inwards, until he feels the rim fit tightly over the tip of his cock and he's pushing against the resistance, trying to be slow, trying to be careful, and all he can think is, kriff, he's tight, he's tight and hot and I gotta go all the way, I gotta go there, he wants me to, he wants, I want...
Groaning almost pitifully, Claude draws back from Anakin's mouth enough to breathe wet and hot against his lips, staring into his face as he slowly sinks past the rim of his asshole, into the heat of him, into the depths, that go on and swallow him up.
He doesn't stop. He goes slow and he is careful, but he doesn't. Stop. Heaving for breath, Claude feels himself in Anakin to the hilt. All of him pushed into the heat of his body. He almost feels like crying. The sound he makes is somewhere between a sob and a whimper. After a trembling, tearful second, he manages, voice a whisper, hoarse, raw. ]
[ To begin with, when Claude removes his hand, Anakin very nearly grabs at him - his body feels completely devoid, empty in ways that he can't properly understand, while his arsehole closes up, the muscle swollen. He forces himself to keep still, to stay relaxed and let the other man get there in his own time which isn't, objectively, long at all. The kiss is lovely, not overly deep or hard but sweet, like it's just another way to connect in the interim while Claude - yes. That. Anakin blinks up at him at the feel of his cock, pressing against his rim. It seems impossibly large and for a second, he worries whether his body's defective somehow, like, maybe he's one of the few beings in the whole entire galaxy who cannot, in fact, swallow a cock with his arse - ]
Aah!
[ It comes out maybe slightly startled - not because Claude's moving particularly fast but because he does follow instructions pretty well and Anakin said, all the way and all the way, it kriffing is. The other man sinks into him to the base, slowly, carefully. Anakin swallows his next sounds, mostly to close his mouth or he'll start drooling; the feeling is completely overpowering and he can't think for it, all he can think is oh and he's so full, he's bursting and Claude is everywhere -- ]
Please.
[ His voice, not unlike Claude's, is trembling. The other man sounds like he's on the verge of tears and Anakin gets him, he really does. Keeping himself relaxed, he pulls Claude down towards him, guiding his forehead to his shoulder, metal fingers stroking through his hair slowly. He slips his flesh hand between them, running over Claude's ribs, his stomach. Then, he finds his own cock further down between them and sneaks his fingers around it. It's half-hard. He hasn't really been considering it much. ]
You're perfect. Give me what you got, Claude, come on.
[ He's shaking, all his muscles tense and quivering from it, and Anakin is everywhere around him, hot and burning and tight and his muscles, too, are quivering, Claude can kriffing feel it. He can feel it everywhere they touch, inside and out. But Anakin is also good and he drags Claude down against his front, holding him there, holding him still, taking his time and giving it to Claude simultaneously. Giving him time, along with himself. Claude has no words to describe the sheer magnitude of his gratitude, he couldn't say it even if he tried. He's for once utterly speechless.
Breathing raggedly, he braces himself on both sides of Anakin's shoulders, keeping hoisted over him and looking down at him while he slowly pulls out once more, feeling almost lost when not being inside Anakin's body, like the rest of the world, Coruscant, Paris, the galaxy at large, are foreign elements in comparison. The friction makes his whole body tighten up and it feels unbelievably natural to just... push in again, ease himself in all the way, then pull out, push in. The first thrust is a rattling, startling thing, then Claude does as Anakin asks of him. He gives it to him, he gives him every deep-seated, smooth thrust, listening to himself breathe funny, feeling his whole body respond, the tingling no longer only in his crotch, but in his thighs, his abdomen, his back, across his face. He more or less throws his forehead down upon Anakin's chest, getting a good look at his half-hard cock like that, losing some rigidity the way it does during intense prep. ]
You are. You are, you are, you are...
[ And because he wants Anakin to feel all the things he is, Claude slowly, with a push of his arms, hoists himself over him again to be able to get the angling right, on the next instroke positioning himself better for it and knowing, knowing it'll be good. It's good between them. It's good here.
He drags himself over Anakin's prostate, not like an apology or a reward, but like a gift. Mine. ]
[ Claude shifts, bracing himself with his hands against the bed. That small movement alone jostles his cock and Anakin's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of fullness emphasised. He curls his arm more loosely around Claude's shoulders for balance and starts stroking himself lazily with the other, no true rhythm to it, merely touch, a glide of friction. You are says Claude and just that, nothing more, while he pushes into him and eases out, pushing in, repeat, and Anakin can feel himself falling into the feel of it, of being filled all the way to his core. He's wide open and Claude's taking what remains of him, the basics of it, and within seconds, he's gasping along with the other man's thrusts, his muscles working in his lower body to meet them. He breathes into Claude's hair for as long as he's able as the other man briefly leans his forehead against his chest and the smell of him feels like an imprint, something beyond the physical.
Then, Claude does something, angles himself in a certain way - he can feel him shifting, changing positions very subtly - and oh, oh, what in the name of the Force is that?! Anakin actually yelps out loud as a sharp spike of pleasure rushes through him - from his arse? - running all the way up his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What. What was.
At the next stroke against the spot, he sees stars. ]
Claude. Claude, what - oh. Don't stop, don't -
[ He works his hips almost without thinking, angling himself and taking the other man as deep as possible and he's stroking himself faster, rougher, while every thrust of Claude's hips makes his balls tighten up, more and more, until - until -
He comes, mouth and eyes open, looking up at Claude above him and thinking my love and mine and the pleasure feels like something he can't even begin to describe. It just is, immense and overpowering. He clamps down around Claude's cock multiple times and each spasm sends another shock of pleasure into his body. Gasping, he leans his head back against the pillow for a second, trying to contain all of this, all of him, his muscles trembling. ]
[ Claude isn't waiting for Anakin to come for his own sake; he could come right now and it would be perfect, fantastic, and he isn't waiting to see the other man crumble and fall apart, although a part of him craves that, craves being able to do that to someone for many varied and complex reasons. Most of all he's waiting for Anakin to come to watch him completely untethered and uninhibited, free. He works towards that, keeping the angle up as he sets a pace, a rhythm, in, in, in, while Anakin moans and tells him not to stop, arching him back and taking it. Taking him. Taking him deeper than ever. Claude's panting, sweat dripping off his brow, running into his eyes and he's blinking, blinking, because he needs to see, he needs...
And then, Anakin comes. And it's beautiful. Just that. Spurting cum all over his own front and his ass... Oh, his ass. It clamps down around Claude's cock rhythmically, milking him in hard, tight squeezes and Claude goes from seeing the beauty of it all to not seeing a single thing, his eyelids falling shut and his head exploding in stars as his own orgasm washes in over him right after. Perfectly timed. Perfect. Perfect.
He moans, all but crumbling down on his elbows, forehead pressing against Anakin's shoulder as he thrust in hard a few times, only just managing to hold back enough not to just slam himself in there and chase the last of it. He takes care. He considers. He considers. He considers... Oh... Kriff... Never like this... before... Stilling slowly, his muscles trembling, everything on him shaking and falling a little bit apart, Claude swallows heavily, realizing only then that he's crying, sweat and tears making his skin cling to Anakin's, everywhere they're touching.
Sniffling quietly, he pulls out slowly enough that the friction makes his balls feel lead-like. But quickly enough that it's like returning to emptiness after having been full.
[ He blinks the stars from his eyes slowly, his arm still curled around Claude's shoulders as the other man follows him over the edge only moments later, thrusting into him harder yet, though not enough to truly hurt because that's the kind of man he is. Anakin watches him through lowered lashes, his leg still curved over his back, taking him in for as long as he needs which isn't very long at all; when he comes, Anakin can feel him pulsing deep within. It's a mesmerising sensation, like they're one and the same person for those few, precious seconds, and then, Claude moans and crumbles down against him, trembling and shaking. Anakin curves his other arm around him, too, and pulls him down on top of him, letting the other man give him his weight to compensate for the strange feeling of emptiness that follows as he pulls out.
It's only then that he realises Claude's crying.
Frowning, he reaches up with his metal hand and runs his fingers through Claude's hair, stroking slowly a couple of times before cradling the back of his skull. He pulls him in, keeps him close, and stretches out beneath him, entangling their legs. They're both sticky from cum and the room smells strongly of sex. He pushes his nose against the side of Claude's face and breathes him in, all other scents falling into the background. ]
Love.
[ He speaks lowly, almost like a murmur. He strokes Claude's back with his other hand, running his palm along his spine, over ribs; muscle and bone. Flesh. All of him so alive and so perfect that Anakin might cry, too, if he weren't busy having too many emotions to manage it. ]
Anakin reaches up and catches him in both arms, dragging him down across his front, taking his whole weight as if to balance the scales, running his metal hand through his hair and cradling the back of his skull, keeping him close. Not because Claude couldn't go if he wanted to, but because they both know - like a shared, deep-seated realization - that he shouldn't, that this is better, this is best. Claude breathes out shakily against his chest, the smell of cum and musk and sex heavy in the air. Everything is heavy, heavy on his shoulders, on his back. He takes his time, just re-learning how to fill his lungs, then exhale. Inhale, exhale.
In the silence that stretches out between them, Anakin just holds him, telling him love, telling him... Staring at the shadows his body casts over Anakin's skin, his front, his pecs, collarbones, shoulders, Claude finally inclines his head and glances up at the other man. Almost afraid. A little bit afraid.
No one, aside from his parents, and they are dead and gone, so they're not gonna be able to show how its done ever again, have ever told him they loved him. Rainier certainly never did. Claude feels himself smiling, slow and warm, easing his cheek back against Anakin's chest, where the muscle is most pronounced, like a pillow. For someone as tough as Anakin, in every way, he's soft, too. He's amazing.
Claude closes his eyes and says it, not in a mutter, but loudly, clearly, proudly. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He's never felt anything like it. It feels deeply intimate, so much that he almost can't breathe for it and he blinks. Impulsively, he curls one arm around Claude's neck and pulls him in a little, enough to press his forehead against his shoulder briefly. He shuts his eyes. Breathes deeply, then pulls back, lips gliding over Claude's earlobe, along the edge of his chin. ]
It's - it's nice. You are.
[ His voice is dark and rough, syllables trembling. He focuses on Claude again, on the feel of him, inside, outside - and there it is, yes, that note of tension and he smiles, warmth spreading in his chest. He's known no one like Claude, ever. ]
Don't be afraid. It's fine, you won't hurt me.
[ He bears down slightly on Claude's fingers, bringing them in deeper, feeling that stretch, delicious and sharp, perfect. ]
no subject
About to withdraw his fingers and maybe rub at the other man's rim some more, loosen him up a bit first, preparing him, Anakin simply -- decides for himself, bearing down on them enough to push them further inside, until Claude's fingers are buried to the knuckles in his ass. It's so hot and tight and his cock is going in there, how did Rainier ever make room...? He pushes the thought aside, just as Anakin seems to touch down on the thing hanging between them. Don't be afraid, he says, sounding dark and rough and soft and gentle at the same time. They're touching everywhere and Claude has never had anything like this, he's never had anyone like him. Amazing Anakin. Breathing deep through his nose, he angles his head enough to run his mouth over Anakin's jawline, the roundness of his cheek until he finds his mouth, blindly, kissing him deeply. Soft tongue. Warmth. Heat. The tight cavity of it. Claude wants in. He wants in him.
Then, he starts pulling out his fingers, feeling the slide and making in pleasantly slow so Anakin will feel it, too, that stretch and all the nerve endings and the friction of skin against the sides of his asshole. Just thinking about it is making Claude feel dizzy from want. Does he still want him?
If Anakin even has to ask, he's doing something wrong.
Groaning loudly, he starts a slow fucking motion, burying into him in intervals, filling him out completely, feeling his ass stretch and give and accomodate, because it can take so much more. Anakin can take so much more. He's been sent to war. He's a Jedi. He knows Claude is afraid. Of hurting him, only that.
As he pulls out of the kiss, he's gasping, pressing his forehead to Anakin's and staring into his face, almost desperately. His own cock is mostly just hurting at this point, throbbing and leaking precum everywhere. ]
Gonna push a third in now. After that, a fourth. I'm big, it'll still stretch...
[ Like that, he aligns his ring finger with the others and on the next instroke, pushes it past Anakin's already stretching rim. Slow glide. Give him time. But Anakin has already shown, if he wants it, he'll take it for himself. He'll take that and more. ]
no subject
I - oh...
[ He breathes in sharply as Claude adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely noticeable now, not painful but undeniable, his mind incapable of focusing on anything else. When he accidentally tightens up around Claude's fingers, his eyes actually widen from the sudden, bright spark of pain - oh, so that's what not to do, got it. He breathes out. Relaxes. The pain disappears. ]
You could skip that, if you want. Think I'm getting the hang of it.
[ They're gonna need slick, though, whether or not Claude wants to skip ahead. He can feel the other man's fingers getting a little dry and that'll get awkward, at length. Closing his eyes, he does that thing that Obi-Wan would chastise him for doing and lifts the small bottle of lube from the bedside table. It floats over them, ending up by Claude's free hand as Anakin runs his metal fingers through his curls, taking care not to get any strands caught in the machinery. Padmé has long hair. He's an expert. ]
no subject
At this point, his fingers are drying up and they shouldn't, it'll get uncomfortable very quickly. About to cuss and lean over for the lube on the bedside table, Anakin... apparently gets there first, because the bottle floats through the air, landing neatly next to his free hand and Claude takes a second to stare, thinking Force and Force user, and then he smiles, leaning in to kiss Anakin on the nose before unscrewing the bottle one-handedly, his fingers getting covered in the cool, thick lube. ]
Good for us. Bad for us is, I'm not. Give me a moment, okay?
[ Breathing fast and desperate now, Claude withdraws his fingers from Anakin's ass, smears them all up in lube too, before pushing the little finger in against the rest and starting the painstaking process of inching most of his kriffing hand past Anakin's swollen, open rim, fucking into him in slow, small wriggling motions.
He gives.
He kriffing gives. His ass opening up around Claude's fingers gradually, a bit stubbornly, too. Like Anakin. Claude is panting. With his other hand, also still covered in lube, he reaches down finally and grabs his cock at the base, squeezing once before slowly slicking himself up.
It's almost enough to make him go cross-eyed. He meets Anakin's gaze. ]
I need to go, Anakin. I'm so hard for you.
no subject
Anakin has lived with secrets for many, many years. And as opposed to his name, his mind, his emotions - those secrets own him, in ways that he can never seem to get around.
It's nice, this. The opposite. ]
I know.
[ He runs his metal hand down the back of Claude's neck. The sensors tell him smooth and damp - the warmth doesn't translate quite so well but that hardly matters when he's got the other man's fingers buried in his body. He shifts, keeping his left leg slung around Claude's lower back, holding on that way and staying open to him simultaneously. He cranes his neck upwards, his abdominal muscles flexing as he pulls himself closer, speaking against the shell of Claude's ear: ]
Looking forward to it. [ A hot exhalation against the other man's skin. ] Go in all the way, if you can. I haven't tried that before.
[ Because honestly, once he'd managed about two inches of that vegetable, he'd decided that he didn't need any further training, thanks. ]
no subject
Swallowing once, he leans into the other man's touch, leans in against his face and kisses him again, lighter this time, to allow him to breathe and speak and be loud in whatever way he wants, while simultaneously he starts pressing inwards, until he feels the rim fit tightly over the tip of his cock and he's pushing against the resistance, trying to be slow, trying to be careful, and all he can think is, kriff, he's tight, he's tight and hot and I gotta go all the way, I gotta go there, he wants me to, he wants, I want...
Groaning almost pitifully, Claude draws back from Anakin's mouth enough to breathe wet and hot against his lips, staring into his face as he slowly sinks past the rim of his asshole, into the heat of him, into the depths, that go on and swallow him up.
He doesn't stop. He goes slow and he is careful, but he doesn't. Stop. Heaving for breath, Claude feels himself in Anakin to the hilt. All of him pushed into the heat of his body. He almost feels like crying. The sound he makes is somewhere between a sob and a whimper. After a trembling, tearful second, he manages, voice a whisper, hoarse, raw. ]
How's that?
no subject
Aah!
[ It comes out maybe slightly startled - not because Claude's moving particularly fast but because he does follow instructions pretty well and Anakin said, all the way and all the way, it kriffing is. The other man sinks into him to the base, slowly, carefully. Anakin swallows his next sounds, mostly to close his mouth or he'll start drooling; the feeling is completely overpowering and he can't think for it, all he can think is oh and he's so full, he's bursting and Claude is everywhere -- ]
Please.
[ His voice, not unlike Claude's, is trembling. The other man sounds like he's on the verge of tears and Anakin gets him, he really does. Keeping himself relaxed, he pulls Claude down towards him, guiding his forehead to his shoulder, metal fingers stroking through his hair slowly. He slips his flesh hand between them, running over Claude's ribs, his stomach. Then, he finds his own cock further down between them and sneaks his fingers around it. It's half-hard. He hasn't really been considering it much. ]
You're perfect. Give me what you got, Claude, come on.
no subject
Breathing raggedly, he braces himself on both sides of Anakin's shoulders, keeping hoisted over him and looking down at him while he slowly pulls out once more, feeling almost lost when not being inside Anakin's body, like the rest of the world, Coruscant, Paris, the galaxy at large, are foreign elements in comparison. The friction makes his whole body tighten up and it feels unbelievably natural to just... push in again, ease himself in all the way, then pull out, push in. The first thrust is a rattling, startling thing, then Claude does as Anakin asks of him. He gives it to him, he gives him every deep-seated, smooth thrust, listening to himself breathe funny, feeling his whole body respond, the tingling no longer only in his crotch, but in his thighs, his abdomen, his back, across his face. He more or less throws his forehead down upon Anakin's chest, getting a good look at his half-hard cock like that, losing some rigidity the way it does during intense prep. ]
You are. You are, you are, you are...
[ And because he wants Anakin to feel all the things he is, Claude slowly, with a push of his arms, hoists himself over him again to be able to get the angling right, on the next instroke positioning himself better for it and knowing, knowing it'll be good. It's good between them. It's good here.
He drags himself over Anakin's prostate, not like an apology or a reward, but like a gift. Mine. ]
no subject
Then, Claude does something, angles himself in a certain way - he can feel him shifting, changing positions very subtly - and oh, oh, what in the name of the Force is that?! Anakin actually yelps out loud as a sharp spike of pleasure rushes through him - from his arse? - running all the way up his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What. What was.
At the next stroke against the spot, he sees stars. ]
Claude. Claude, what - oh. Don't stop, don't -
[ He works his hips almost without thinking, angling himself and taking the other man as deep as possible and he's stroking himself faster, rougher, while every thrust of Claude's hips makes his balls tighten up, more and more, until - until -
He comes, mouth and eyes open, looking up at Claude above him and thinking my love and mine and the pleasure feels like something he can't even begin to describe. It just is, immense and overpowering. He clamps down around Claude's cock multiple times and each spasm sends another shock of pleasure into his body. Gasping, he leans his head back against the pillow for a second, trying to contain all of this, all of him, his muscles trembling. ]
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And then, Anakin comes. And it's beautiful. Just that. Spurting cum all over his own front and his ass... Oh, his ass. It clamps down around Claude's cock rhythmically, milking him in hard, tight squeezes and Claude goes from seeing the beauty of it all to not seeing a single thing, his eyelids falling shut and his head exploding in stars as his own orgasm washes in over him right after. Perfectly timed. Perfect. Perfect.
He moans, all but crumbling down on his elbows, forehead pressing against Anakin's shoulder as he thrust in hard a few times, only just managing to hold back enough not to just slam himself in there and chase the last of it. He takes care. He considers. He considers. He considers... Oh... Kriff... Never like this... before... Stilling slowly, his muscles trembling, everything on him shaking and falling a little bit apart, Claude swallows heavily, realizing only then that he's crying, sweat and tears making his skin cling to Anakin's, everywhere they're touching.
Sniffling quietly, he pulls out slowly enough that the friction makes his balls feel lead-like. But quickly enough that it's like returning to emptiness after having been full.
Because Anakin gave as much back as he got. ]
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It's only then that he realises Claude's crying.
Frowning, he reaches up with his metal hand and runs his fingers through Claude's hair, stroking slowly a couple of times before cradling the back of his skull. He pulls him in, keeps him close, and stretches out beneath him, entangling their legs. They're both sticky from cum and the room smells strongly of sex. He pushes his nose against the side of Claude's face and breathes him in, all other scents falling into the background. ]
Love.
[ He speaks lowly, almost like a murmur. He strokes Claude's back with his other hand, running his palm along his spine, over ribs; muscle and bone. Flesh. All of him so alive and so perfect that Anakin might cry, too, if he weren't busy having too many emotions to manage it. ]
I love you.
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Anakin reaches up and catches him in both arms, dragging him down across his front, taking his whole weight as if to balance the scales, running his metal hand through his hair and cradling the back of his skull, keeping him close. Not because Claude couldn't go if he wanted to, but because they both know - like a shared, deep-seated realization - that he shouldn't, that this is better, this is best. Claude breathes out shakily against his chest, the smell of cum and musk and sex heavy in the air. Everything is heavy, heavy on his shoulders, on his back. He takes his time, just re-learning how to fill his lungs, then exhale. Inhale, exhale.
In the silence that stretches out between them, Anakin just holds him, telling him love, telling him... Staring at the shadows his body casts over Anakin's skin, his front, his pecs, collarbones, shoulders, Claude finally inclines his head and glances up at the other man. Almost afraid. A little bit afraid.
No one, aside from his parents, and they are dead and gone, so they're not gonna be able to show how its done ever again, have ever told him they loved him. Rainier certainly never did. Claude feels himself smiling, slow and warm, easing his cheek back against Anakin's chest, where the muscle is most pronounced, like a pillow. For someone as tough as Anakin, in every way, he's soft, too. He's amazing.
Claude closes his eyes and says it, not in a mutter, but loudly, clearly, proudly. ]
I love you, too.