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