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For a long span of seconds, Caleb stays just like that, savoring his companion's soft sounds and the sensation of fluttering wet heat surrounding his cock, warm skin to warm skin where his hips meet Yussa's ass. His hand squeezes where it grips a soft cheek, and his thumb circles and presses teasingly against his pliant rim, excited by how readily it yields to the least amount of pressure.
He's sure Yussa must have expected that first, with how thoroughly he worked him open. His other hand slides down Yussa's elegantly arched back over chain and tattoo with an undercurrent of that possessiveness he can't help indulging, stirred by fucking Yussa to exhausted helplessness and knowing he still wants him to continue.
"I'll have your ass soon, schatz," he assures. Both blunt human hands now splay wide over a round cheek each, a grip he uses to drag Yussa back against him as his hips finally begin to move. "You opened up for me so easily, I would hate to leave you wanting." Yussa came very hard for him despite keeping his cunt frustratingly empty, and his weak moan as he pressed in just now was unmistakably one of relief. He can't help wondering if filling him like this first isn't really more of a tease, knowing he is planning to leave him empty again.
Caleb seems to be in no hurry yet, however, enjoying his cunt again at his leisure. This means a slow, controlled rocking rather than thrusting, grinding forward each time they come together again as if he could press any deeper if he tried. If anything, the languid pace makes it more filthy, not less. There is an air about him of quiet control, of deservingness, confident in the knowledge that he has bought this beautiful man for the night, made him come again and again, and now takes what his coin and skill have earned him.
"Is this what you wanted?" he murmurs, the husk of his voice almost softened by the coastally warm evening darkness, almost tangible, and the gold-tinged half-light cast over them. "When you begged for me to give you my cock?"
He's sure Yussa must have expected that first, with how thoroughly he worked him open. His other hand slides down Yussa's elegantly arched back over chain and tattoo with an undercurrent of that possessiveness he can't help indulging, stirred by fucking Yussa to exhausted helplessness and knowing he still wants him to continue.
"I'll have your ass soon, schatz," he assures. Both blunt human hands now splay wide over a round cheek each, a grip he uses to drag Yussa back against him as his hips finally begin to move. "You opened up for me so easily, I would hate to leave you wanting." Yussa came very hard for him despite keeping his cunt frustratingly empty, and his weak moan as he pressed in just now was unmistakably one of relief. He can't help wondering if filling him like this first isn't really more of a tease, knowing he is planning to leave him empty again.
Caleb seems to be in no hurry yet, however, enjoying his cunt again at his leisure. This means a slow, controlled rocking rather than thrusting, grinding forward each time they come together again as if he could press any deeper if he tried. If anything, the languid pace makes it more filthy, not less. There is an air about him of quiet control, of deservingness, confident in the knowledge that he has bought this beautiful man for the night, made him come again and again, and now takes what his coin and skill have earned him.
"Is this what you wanted?" he murmurs, the husk of his voice almost softened by the coastally warm evening darkness, almost tangible, and the gold-tinged half-light cast over them. "When you begged for me to give you my cock?"
Another whimper rises in his throat as Caleb stokes over the hole he'll take next; knowing what the other man plans next does nothing to lessen the anticipation.
Yussa's eyes are open but glazed over as Caleb rocks into him with smooth and steady movements. It is obscene, he can hear it and feel it and he is certain Caleb's view is perfect. He shivers beneath the tender caress of his lover's hand over his back; Yussa knows there's a sheen of sweat on his skin from the exertion of the last little while. Caleb fucks him at his leisure, indulging himself with Yussa's body and that alone makes Yussa feel lightheaded. Every stroke of Caleb's cock hits him deep and the slow pace means he feels every inch in and out.
"Yes," he gasps weakly. This is exactly what he wanted, even if he couldn't have imagined it at the time. Caleb's quiet but confident control is intoxicating and Yussa is content to be swept up in it entirely. He's worn down, fully Caleb's to use as he sees fit. There is something delicious in that surrender, a feeling that Yussa doesn't invite or indulge in very often. Perhaps, with Caleb, he can explore it a little more.
Yussa's lips remain parted but he can't quite summon any other response other than the little sounds that escape him, entirely unbidden and seemingly beyond his control now.
Yussa's eyes are open but glazed over as Caleb rocks into him with smooth and steady movements. It is obscene, he can hear it and feel it and he is certain Caleb's view is perfect. He shivers beneath the tender caress of his lover's hand over his back; Yussa knows there's a sheen of sweat on his skin from the exertion of the last little while. Caleb fucks him at his leisure, indulging himself with Yussa's body and that alone makes Yussa feel lightheaded. Every stroke of Caleb's cock hits him deep and the slow pace means he feels every inch in and out.
"Yes," he gasps weakly. This is exactly what he wanted, even if he couldn't have imagined it at the time. Caleb's quiet but confident control is intoxicating and Yussa is content to be swept up in it entirely. He's worn down, fully Caleb's to use as he sees fit. There is something delicious in that surrender, a feeling that Yussa doesn't invite or indulge in very often. Perhaps, with Caleb, he can explore it a little more.
Yussa's lips remain parted but he can't quite summon any other response other than the little sounds that escape him, entirely unbidden and seemingly beyond his control now.
Edited 2023-08-25 01:30 (UTC)
That single word and the involuntary noises that follow are enough to confirm for Caleb what he already knows to be true. The headiness of Yussa's complete surrender is a kind of rush he's never felt before, finding himself in a position of power he normally wouldn't dare to occupy, least of all in this relationship. The permission granted by their roles in this fantasy makes him bolder, more sure of himself. Yussa wanted to be paid for and used as Caleb, his client, sees fit. So he does.
Yussa's cunt feels divine. It's easier than it's ever been to lose himself in indulging his own pleasure, rocking in and out at an obscenely lazy pace, dragging Yussa's hips back against his with a grip on the curve of his ass and hilting deep. His breathing is slow but ragged; the loudest sounds above the background hum of the Nicodranas street below are their soft gasps and grunts and the carnal slap of skin against skin, sharp and lusciously wet.
Caleb has him like this wordlessly for some few minutes before he gives a low hum, squeezing at Yussa's ass before that hand reaches down to blindly search the covers beside them. "You have been wanting this, haven't you?" he murmurs in a warm rasp. "They can probably hear how wet you are from the street." Despite the casual vulgarity of his words, his tone is appreciative, not taunting.
When his searching hand retrieves their bottle of oil, it becomes clear that Caleb isn't quite done opening up his lover's ass after all. Deftly, he pours a decadent excess onto his hand before spreading his cheeks and unhesitatingly working three fingers together into his hole, already softened and stretched enough to accept them with relative ease, especially so generously slicked.
"It would be a shame to leave this hole empty when it clearly wants to be filled," he comments, almost kindly. "Do you have a plug you like, Yussa?" he wonders. "If so, I may use it later." To keep you open when I'm done with you goes without saying.
Yussa's cunt feels divine. It's easier than it's ever been to lose himself in indulging his own pleasure, rocking in and out at an obscenely lazy pace, dragging Yussa's hips back against his with a grip on the curve of his ass and hilting deep. His breathing is slow but ragged; the loudest sounds above the background hum of the Nicodranas street below are their soft gasps and grunts and the carnal slap of skin against skin, sharp and lusciously wet.
Caleb has him like this wordlessly for some few minutes before he gives a low hum, squeezing at Yussa's ass before that hand reaches down to blindly search the covers beside them. "You have been wanting this, haven't you?" he murmurs in a warm rasp. "They can probably hear how wet you are from the street." Despite the casual vulgarity of his words, his tone is appreciative, not taunting.
When his searching hand retrieves their bottle of oil, it becomes clear that Caleb isn't quite done opening up his lover's ass after all. Deftly, he pours a decadent excess onto his hand before spreading his cheeks and unhesitatingly working three fingers together into his hole, already softened and stretched enough to accept them with relative ease, especially so generously slicked.
"It would be a shame to leave this hole empty when it clearly wants to be filled," he comments, almost kindly. "Do you have a plug you like, Yussa?" he wonders. "If so, I may use it later." To keep you open when I'm done with you goes without saying.
Yussa feels as though he's been wrung out. There is no pride left in him, no part of him capable of affecting distance or disinterest. Caleb is burying his cock in his aching cunt slow enough that he can do nothing but feel everything his lover - his patron - wants to give him. The casually lewd comments about how wet he is send deeper heat to his face and Yussa tips his head down, not ashamed but certainly unable to deny it.
He was not expecting Caleb to drag this out, and the fact that this entire evening is unpredictable. Yussa can feel Caleb moving behind him, reaching, and he realizes quickly that it's the oil they've been using. He catches on to what Caleb is intending just a few seconds before he does it. Caleb's fingers push into him with ease, but Yussa still cries out, suddenly full in almost every way he can be. Panting, he twitches beneath the other man, muscles trembling. He nearly misses the question, to addled by having Caleb fucking him like this.
He knows he has a plug here - he brought several toys because he assumed that a person such as himself would have quite a collection, and because he want to be sure Caleb truly did have as many options as he might want. He manages to let go of the pillow long enough to gesture weakly at a side table not very far from the bed. Laid out there a handful of things Caleb might recognize and others that are new to him. But there is a selection of plugs, should his patron decide to use them at any point.
Deliriously, Yussa's mind drifts to being left ready for this man whenever he should want him. His cunt throbs around Caleb's cock and he whines softly the next time Caleb moves his hips.
He was not expecting Caleb to drag this out, and the fact that this entire evening is unpredictable. Yussa can feel Caleb moving behind him, reaching, and he realizes quickly that it's the oil they've been using. He catches on to what Caleb is intending just a few seconds before he does it. Caleb's fingers push into him with ease, but Yussa still cries out, suddenly full in almost every way he can be. Panting, he twitches beneath the other man, muscles trembling. He nearly misses the question, to addled by having Caleb fucking him like this.
He knows he has a plug here - he brought several toys because he assumed that a person such as himself would have quite a collection, and because he want to be sure Caleb truly did have as many options as he might want. He manages to let go of the pillow long enough to gesture weakly at a side table not very far from the bed. Laid out there a handful of things Caleb might recognize and others that are new to him. But there is a selection of plugs, should his patron decide to use them at any point.
Deliriously, Yussa's mind drifts to being left ready for this man whenever he should want him. His cunt throbs around Caleb's cock and he whines softly the next time Caleb moves his hips.
Naturally, a courtesan of Yussa's status would have options. Caleb's gaze follows the weak wave of his hand to the table beyond, and the variety of toys arranged there. Only a small fraction of Yussa's actual collection, of course. He hasn't seen many yet, but he has good reason to assume that there must be plenty more. Several laid out for him tonight are unfamiliar.
"Danke," he murmurs, and leans down to press a kiss to the sweat-damp skin at the back of Yussa's neck. His nose brushes the soft, close-shorn prickle of his hairline. "I will take a closer look in a bit."
There is a hitch in his breath as he rolls his hips forward again, hearing and feeling how Yussa reacts to his words, to the way his cock fills him. His wordless whines, the soft walls of his passage pulsing. Caleb, the real one, is in a perpetual state of lustful disbelief. He wasn't expecting this. He didn't know Yussa could be this way, let alone that he was capable of guiding him to it; quiet, fucked out, and still so eager to be used he is literally dripping for it.
Three fingers stroke slickly in and out of his ass in time with the roll of his hips as he fucks his cunt. At times he can feel them brush against his cock inside Yussa's body as they spread him open. As his ponderously slow pace gradually picks up, he knows he won't be able to endure this way for long, and with how much Yussa is clearly enjoying it as well, he is tempted to continue just like this to his end. But he will stop when he must. There is more he wants before he finishes. For once, he is thinking of his own pleasure first. If Yussa can come from being fucked tonight, he is very welcome to, but it isn't Caleb's goal. If he can't, then he will have to wait.
"Danke," he murmurs, and leans down to press a kiss to the sweat-damp skin at the back of Yussa's neck. His nose brushes the soft, close-shorn prickle of his hairline. "I will take a closer look in a bit."
There is a hitch in his breath as he rolls his hips forward again, hearing and feeling how Yussa reacts to his words, to the way his cock fills him. His wordless whines, the soft walls of his passage pulsing. Caleb, the real one, is in a perpetual state of lustful disbelief. He wasn't expecting this. He didn't know Yussa could be this way, let alone that he was capable of guiding him to it; quiet, fucked out, and still so eager to be used he is literally dripping for it.
Three fingers stroke slickly in and out of his ass in time with the roll of his hips as he fucks his cunt. At times he can feel them brush against his cock inside Yussa's body as they spread him open. As his ponderously slow pace gradually picks up, he knows he won't be able to endure this way for long, and with how much Yussa is clearly enjoying it as well, he is tempted to continue just like this to his end. But he will stop when he must. There is more he wants before he finishes. For once, he is thinking of his own pleasure first. If Yussa can come from being fucked tonight, he is very welcome to, but it isn't Caleb's goal. If he can't, then he will have to wait.
Yussa closes his eyes as Caleb's nose brushes against him - he can feel the other man's breath and the proximity of his body as he leans over him. When they open again, his golden gaze is still unfocused as Caleb fucks him faster, harder, with both fingers and cock.
He stretches his body as if he might somehow relieve or escape the heat building between them and inside him. Even overwhelmed as he feels, Yussa still pushes his hips back to meet every thrust. There is something freeing in this, but he's known that for a long time. It's easy to understand what Caleb gets out of surrender and Yussa is happy to give him that. But perhaps there is something to be said for arranging ways for Caleb to fully indulge himself without the distraction of putting others' needs ahead of his own. If this is what that encouragement reaps, Yussa will remember what it gives them both. It gives Caleb permission, and it gives him release.
Yussa tries to sink back into their narrative. Would he welcome a man like this in his position? He has to imagine so. He knows from the Ruby that imaginative and engaging lovers can be few and far between, even when one is able to choose their clients. Whether as a courtesan or archmage, the same things about Caleb excite him. As does the idea that this man has spent so much just to have him.
He can feel his body tightening around Caleb's fingers and cock, tension building but far from ready to break. And he has finally reached a point that his sensitivity wins out against his pride.
"Caleb," he gasps out. "I--May I--" Yussa's voice cuts off in a soft whimper as Caleb's fingers move just right. Gods, can he even get through a request like this? He ends up reaching back to tug at the chains he wears. He wants to remove them, to have nothing between him and Caleb, but he will not do so without his patron's say so. If Caleb wishes him to remain ornamented, then he will keep them on.
He stretches his body as if he might somehow relieve or escape the heat building between them and inside him. Even overwhelmed as he feels, Yussa still pushes his hips back to meet every thrust. There is something freeing in this, but he's known that for a long time. It's easy to understand what Caleb gets out of surrender and Yussa is happy to give him that. But perhaps there is something to be said for arranging ways for Caleb to fully indulge himself without the distraction of putting others' needs ahead of his own. If this is what that encouragement reaps, Yussa will remember what it gives them both. It gives Caleb permission, and it gives him release.
Yussa tries to sink back into their narrative. Would he welcome a man like this in his position? He has to imagine so. He knows from the Ruby that imaginative and engaging lovers can be few and far between, even when one is able to choose their clients. Whether as a courtesan or archmage, the same things about Caleb excite him. As does the idea that this man has spent so much just to have him.
He can feel his body tightening around Caleb's fingers and cock, tension building but far from ready to break. And he has finally reached a point that his sensitivity wins out against his pride.
"Caleb," he gasps out. "I--May I--" Yussa's voice cuts off in a soft whimper as Caleb's fingers move just right. Gods, can he even get through a request like this? He ends up reaching back to tug at the chains he wears. He wants to remove them, to have nothing between him and Caleb, but he will not do so without his patron's say so. If Caleb wishes him to remain ornamented, then he will keep them on.
It's Yussa gasping his name that reminds him not to follow the tension building in his body too far. As soon as he hears it, he's pulled from the stupor of his own pleasure, alert to his lover's needs. But it becomes clear that Yussa isn't asking him to stop, or even to do anything himself; he just wants the chains off. He's been wearing them for at least two hours now; they must have grown uncomfortable.
Gods, but when has Yussa ever asked for his permission for something like this? Caleb's head spins.
"Schatz, of course you may," he responds at once, immediately attentive. He would have removed them sooner if he'd known Yussa would be more comfortable that way. His clean hand gently pushes Yussa's fingers out of the way where he reaches behind himself, trying to remove the chains on his own. "Let me help."
Now is as good a time as any, he thinks. Slowly, he eases his fingers from Yussa's ass, and after a quick prestidigitation, that hand is clean as well. Pulling out of his lover's cunt takes more than a little resolve, but with his own plans in mind, he does. It is easy then to find the small clasps along Yussa's spine holding the chains together and undo them. The top section loosens and falls away, then the ones draped over his hips, until at last they can all be slipped off entirely from the front. "There," Caleb murmurs. "If you lift up just a little..."
With Yussa's cooperation, the chains are soon draped over a bedpost, leaving his skin bare but for the beautiful tattoos he's recently had inked. Caleb kisses the design between his shoulder blades fondly, up to the back of his neck again. "Are you still comfortable like this?" he asks, checking in both in and out of their narrative. "It is okay for you to stretch your legs out," he reminds him. There's no need for Yussa to support himself at all if he doesn't want to. "The pillow is enough to keep you where I need you."
Especially now that he is planning, finally, to have his ass next.
Gods, but when has Yussa ever asked for his permission for something like this? Caleb's head spins.
"Schatz, of course you may," he responds at once, immediately attentive. He would have removed them sooner if he'd known Yussa would be more comfortable that way. His clean hand gently pushes Yussa's fingers out of the way where he reaches behind himself, trying to remove the chains on his own. "Let me help."
Now is as good a time as any, he thinks. Slowly, he eases his fingers from Yussa's ass, and after a quick prestidigitation, that hand is clean as well. Pulling out of his lover's cunt takes more than a little resolve, but with his own plans in mind, he does. It is easy then to find the small clasps along Yussa's spine holding the chains together and undo them. The top section loosens and falls away, then the ones draped over his hips, until at last they can all be slipped off entirely from the front. "There," Caleb murmurs. "If you lift up just a little..."
With Yussa's cooperation, the chains are soon draped over a bedpost, leaving his skin bare but for the beautiful tattoos he's recently had inked. Caleb kisses the design between his shoulder blades fondly, up to the back of his neck again. "Are you still comfortable like this?" he asks, checking in both in and out of their narrative. "It is okay for you to stretch your legs out," he reminds him. There's no need for Yussa to support himself at all if he doesn't want to. "The pillow is enough to keep you where I need you."
Especially now that he is planning, finally, to have his ass next.
For some reason, Yussa isn't expecting Caleb to pull out to accomplish this task. He cannot help the sound that escapes him as first his ass and then his cunt are left empty. His hands grip the pillow beneath him tightly as if it is the only thing keeping him in place as Caleb's clever hands make short work of the clasps. On shaking arms, he pushes himself up enough for the chains to slide off entirely. He moves to make their full removal easier and his eyes close as the younger man's lips brush against his back. He can hear the care in Caleb's voice, and he worries for a moment he has broken them out of their fantasy.
But is it so terrible to imagine a man that would pay for him could also care for his comfort? That it has not broken the mood is made abundantly clear when Caleb tells him that the pillow is enough to keep Yussa where he needs him. He feels a flare of warmth through his body and Yussa actually tries to consider his answer. He could stay on his knees, but gods, it would be easier to lower himself, to allow the pillow do the work instead.
Looking flustered by his own confession, Yussa admits, "Ah... if the pillow is enough, I will take you up on that."
His accent is heavy and his voice still sounds slightly dazed, but given this little break, his gaze is clearer, more focused. Yussa has no doubt Caleb will remedy that sooner than later.
"Would it be easier to add another...?" He hasn't considered it until now, but the bed has plenty of pillows and bolsters to work with.
But is it so terrible to imagine a man that would pay for him could also care for his comfort? That it has not broken the mood is made abundantly clear when Caleb tells him that the pillow is enough to keep Yussa where he needs him. He feels a flare of warmth through his body and Yussa actually tries to consider his answer. He could stay on his knees, but gods, it would be easier to lower himself, to allow the pillow do the work instead.
Looking flustered by his own confession, Yussa admits, "Ah... if the pillow is enough, I will take you up on that."
His accent is heavy and his voice still sounds slightly dazed, but given this little break, his gaze is clearer, more focused. Yussa has no doubt Caleb will remedy that sooner than later.
"Would it be easier to add another...?" He hasn't considered it until now, but the bed has plenty of pillows and bolsters to work with.
Part of the appeal of this scenario is that it exists adjacent to reality, but apart from it. Caleb treats Yussa with kindness and concern for his comfort because he is still himself, and that is what he would do for anyone he shared a bed with. And to the Caleb of this fantasy, Yussa isn't just any courtesan; he is a man he has admired for months now, hopelessly captured by both his body and his mind. Someone he wants to cultivate a relationship with, who he wants to think well of him not only as a patron, but as a man. Perhaps it is naive, but when he next scrapes together the coin to enjoy a night like this again, he wants Yussa to be genuinely pleased to see him.
But whether in or out of this fantasy, to have flustered the older man so thoroughly is quite an accomplishment. A wider smile spreads over Caleb's lips. Yussa is oddly sweet like this, off kilter and hesitant, accent so thick that he seems only a step removed from simply speaking Elvish instead of Common.
"You are the expert here. Let's try one more," Caleb agrees. Reassuringly, he kisses his cheek on the way to leaning past him for a second pillow. A firm, round bolster placed right under Yussa's hips raises them higher, providing just the sort of lift and support they'll need. The fabric is fine and richly patterned, the sort of frivolous luxury that still takes both real and fantasy Caleb aback, and gives him a quiet thrill to sully this way. "Ja, perfect," he declares, half to himself. "You can stretch out and relax now, schatz."
Taking his place behind him, Caleb again slicks himself with oil--his cock this time, the sound of his hand working it down his length unmistakable. This pause has given him a much-needed chance to recenter himself as well. He'll last longer, he thinks, once he gets started again.
"You were beautiful draped in gold, but I like looking at your bare skin even more," he muses aloud in that deep rasp he knows makes Yussa a bit weak-kneed.
But whether in or out of this fantasy, to have flustered the older man so thoroughly is quite an accomplishment. A wider smile spreads over Caleb's lips. Yussa is oddly sweet like this, off kilter and hesitant, accent so thick that he seems only a step removed from simply speaking Elvish instead of Common.
"You are the expert here. Let's try one more," Caleb agrees. Reassuringly, he kisses his cheek on the way to leaning past him for a second pillow. A firm, round bolster placed right under Yussa's hips raises them higher, providing just the sort of lift and support they'll need. The fabric is fine and richly patterned, the sort of frivolous luxury that still takes both real and fantasy Caleb aback, and gives him a quiet thrill to sully this way. "Ja, perfect," he declares, half to himself. "You can stretch out and relax now, schatz."
Taking his place behind him, Caleb again slicks himself with oil--his cock this time, the sound of his hand working it down his length unmistakable. This pause has given him a much-needed chance to recenter himself as well. He'll last longer, he thinks, once he gets started again.
"You were beautiful draped in gold, but I like looking at your bare skin even more," he muses aloud in that deep rasp he knows makes Yussa a bit weak-kneed.
Yussa moves as Caleb grabs the bolster to get it under his hips. If he weren't already so overheated, he knows he would be blushing for the way Caleb is talking to him tonight. He relaxes as much as he can when he's told to, but it's difficult to forget what's in store for him as Caleb shifts behind him. He holds onto the other pillow, heart pounding as Caleb adds more oil to his cock. Gods, he will be a mess.
He bows his head and he feels an ache in his body just from the sound of Caleb's voice. His breath is shaky when he feels the slick glide of Caleb's cock against his well-stretched hole. His shoulders hunch, not for fear of pain but because he knows what is coming, and he knows he will enjoy it, and most of all he knows he will not be able to hide it.
When Caleb finally pushes in, Yussa moans heavily. Gods, he feels light-headed. His body is alight, but he is not entirely free to seek his own pleasure when Caleb is chasing his own. And truly, he doesn't need to. Caleb feels good, and having a cock in him will always be different from fingers, making him feel full in another way entirely.
He bows his head and he feels an ache in his body just from the sound of Caleb's voice. His breath is shaky when he feels the slick glide of Caleb's cock against his well-stretched hole. His shoulders hunch, not for fear of pain but because he knows what is coming, and he knows he will enjoy it, and most of all he knows he will not be able to hide it.
When Caleb finally pushes in, Yussa moans heavily. Gods, he feels light-headed. His body is alight, but he is not entirely free to seek his own pleasure when Caleb is chasing his own. And truly, he doesn't need to. Caleb feels good, and having a cock in him will always be different from fingers, making him feel full in another way entirely.
Oil already gleams on Yussa's warm brown skin around his stretched entrance, and now more still drips down as Caleb guides the darkly flushed head of his slicked cock there--excessively, decadently wet. His breath catches. Yussa's rim is soft and yielding, worked open so it takes barely any coaxing for the head to slip inside him. Gripping a round cheek to hold him open, Caleb tilts his hips down and presses in. With obscene ease, his cock sinks slowly into his ass until he's buried to the root. Rewarded with a full-throated moan from Yussa, dazed and uninhibited as he's filled, Caleb can't hold back a low groan himself. The tight, velvety heat of him is overwhelming.
A thumb strokes Yussa's oiled rim where it stretches around the girth of his cock, and Caleb has to swallow hard to wet his suddenly dry mouth before he can speak. Fuck, this is almost ridiculously hot.
"You like this," he murmurs, a statement somewhere between amazed and triumphant. "Gods, you're taking me so well."
His hips pull back and roll forward again in a firm thrust, slowly drawn out, then another. The sound is as lewdly wet as when he was fucking his cunt; oil shines on both of them in the warm low light, copious enough to drip down onto the sheets, gratifyingly wasteful. Caleb doesn't take his eyes off his cock gliding in and out of his paid-for lover's hole, sensually pliant and slick and easy.
"I hope your other clients take the time to--to open you up and fill you like this," he rasps, breath hitching as his heart races, dizzy with excitement and pleasure. "You forget how much you want it in your ass until you get it, don't you?"
A thumb strokes Yussa's oiled rim where it stretches around the girth of his cock, and Caleb has to swallow hard to wet his suddenly dry mouth before he can speak. Fuck, this is almost ridiculously hot.
"You like this," he murmurs, a statement somewhere between amazed and triumphant. "Gods, you're taking me so well."
His hips pull back and roll forward again in a firm thrust, slowly drawn out, then another. The sound is as lewdly wet as when he was fucking his cunt; oil shines on both of them in the warm low light, copious enough to drip down onto the sheets, gratifyingly wasteful. Caleb doesn't take his eyes off his cock gliding in and out of his paid-for lover's hole, sensually pliant and slick and easy.
"I hope your other clients take the time to--to open you up and fill you like this," he rasps, breath hitching as his heart races, dizzy with excitement and pleasure. "You forget how much you want it in your ass until you get it, don't you?"
Yussa arches his back as Caleb's thumb rubs against his stretched hole, as if to ensure he cannot forget how the other man fills him. The tone of his voice makes Yussa ache, the triumph and disbelief all at once, as if he is making Yussa enjoy this act. He is, of course. But hearing Caleb acknowledge it sends an unexpected shiver through him. Yussa can't stop the helpless sound that escapes him when Caleb thrusts into him, slow and firm to make sure he feels every inch.
Despite trying to remain firmly in this fantasy, Yussa's addled mind can't help but connect this to the first time, in that pocket of the Feywild. Caleb realized this about him then: that sometimes he forgets how much he enjoys something until it's put in front of him again. It has certainly made for some delicious nights (and days) together, though he also notices Caleb rarely suggests taking what Yussa has not offered on any given day. This fantasy is perfect for that, to give him the space to take whatever it is he wants knowing that it is what Yussa wants from him.
He should answer the question; when he finally manages to summon his voice the words almost die again on his tongue as Caleb's hips smack against the curve of his ass. Gods, how can he be expected to offer anything coherent?
"Not--not like this," he manages, his soft voice slightly slurred. Whatever other patrons that have him, Yussa can imagine few would be quite so comprehensive in their efforts as Caleb Widogast.
Despite trying to remain firmly in this fantasy, Yussa's addled mind can't help but connect this to the first time, in that pocket of the Feywild. Caleb realized this about him then: that sometimes he forgets how much he enjoys something until it's put in front of him again. It has certainly made for some delicious nights (and days) together, though he also notices Caleb rarely suggests taking what Yussa has not offered on any given day. This fantasy is perfect for that, to give him the space to take whatever it is he wants knowing that it is what Yussa wants from him.
He should answer the question; when he finally manages to summon his voice the words almost die again on his tongue as Caleb's hips smack against the curve of his ass. Gods, how can he be expected to offer anything coherent?
"Not--not like this," he manages, his soft voice slightly slurred. Whatever other patrons that have him, Yussa can imagine few would be quite so comprehensive in their efforts as Caleb Widogast.
Though Yussa's slurred response is contrary to what Caleb had put forth, it makes him smile. His hips snap forward in a confident thrust. There are a select few things about which he can be quite competitive. Apparently this is one of them. Though he is the client here, he longs to be the one to please Yussa best, to give him an experience no other measures up to. He doesn't hope his other patrons do this for him; he wants to be unique, singular, remarkable. It's part of the fantasy. Yussa's answer is exactly what he really wants to hear.
That is somewhat selfish of him, he knows. But as long as Yussa enjoys their time together (and real-Caleb's memories of past occasions where he's put him in similar states would attest that he very much is), shouldn't he be allowed to take some pride in fucking a man who gets paid handsomely to be fucked so well that he's laid out already wrecked and slurring his words? In doing what other men wouldn't have the patience or the skill for? In not sharing their common, dull self-centered traits, but possessing instead a streak of selfishness that would see Yussa utterly satisfied?
This is the excuse that lets him continue without questioning himself further, so he takes it. Now isn't the time to challenge his motivations, anyway; he's with a gorgeous, eager man, buried to the hilt in his incredible ass, and the higher function of his brain is quickly reverting to the part that just wants to fuck.
"That is a shame," he says, without sounding the least bit regretful. Breathless, even slightly elated. "You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are, Herr Yussa."
Since walking through that door and putting his gold down on the table, that is exactly what Caleb has done. He's admired, worshipped, claimed in a spectrum of ways in mere hours, and the sense of wonder that he is finally here with the man he's prized for so long has never left him. He takes Yussa over the Chateau's expensive pillows with self-assured assertiveness, in long, oil-smooth thrusts that drag his cock indulgently almost all the way out before plunging back in. Even now, he sighs praise between grunts of pleasure.
"You are worth everything," he says, roughened and heavily Zemnian. "The planning, the waiting, the coin--so much, just to have you for a night. And already I know that I will do it all again."
That is somewhat selfish of him, he knows. But as long as Yussa enjoys their time together (and real-Caleb's memories of past occasions where he's put him in similar states would attest that he very much is), shouldn't he be allowed to take some pride in fucking a man who gets paid handsomely to be fucked so well that he's laid out already wrecked and slurring his words? In doing what other men wouldn't have the patience or the skill for? In not sharing their common, dull self-centered traits, but possessing instead a streak of selfishness that would see Yussa utterly satisfied?
This is the excuse that lets him continue without questioning himself further, so he takes it. Now isn't the time to challenge his motivations, anyway; he's with a gorgeous, eager man, buried to the hilt in his incredible ass, and the higher function of his brain is quickly reverting to the part that just wants to fuck.
"That is a shame," he says, without sounding the least bit regretful. Breathless, even slightly elated. "You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are, Herr Yussa."
Since walking through that door and putting his gold down on the table, that is exactly what Caleb has done. He's admired, worshipped, claimed in a spectrum of ways in mere hours, and the sense of wonder that he is finally here with the man he's prized for so long has never left him. He takes Yussa over the Chateau's expensive pillows with self-assured assertiveness, in long, oil-smooth thrusts that drag his cock indulgently almost all the way out before plunging back in. Even now, he sighs praise between grunts of pleasure.
"You are worth everything," he says, roughened and heavily Zemnian. "The planning, the waiting, the coin--so much, just to have you for a night. And already I know that I will do it all again."
Yussa can do nothing but pant for breath as Caleb fucks him with long, deep strokes. It feels good - it always does - but gods, something about this fantasy simply adds to it. Surely it's the way Caleb reiterates how hard he has worked for this moment, how much time he's spent thinking of it and wanting it. It's a heady thing. He cannot imagine someone such as himself - no matter how desired or how expensive - could count on such dedicated lovers. Caleb has earned what any other takes for granted, and so he treasures every second of it.
He shifts slightly, thighs spreading more until he can press more against the bolster beneath him. He isn't even sure he can come again from this alone - and it doesn't matter if he can, only that Caleb takes his pleasure - but part of him aches to find relief even in passing pressure and friction. Yussa bites his lip, deliriously imagining the mess Caleb is making of him with oil, slick, and come. A wave of tension rolls through him and he takes a sharper breath the next time their bodies meet.
Soft, nearly incoherent Elvish falls from his lips between gasping breaths, and it sounds like it might be praise or pleading, or some mix of both.
He shifts slightly, thighs spreading more until he can press more against the bolster beneath him. He isn't even sure he can come again from this alone - and it doesn't matter if he can, only that Caleb takes his pleasure - but part of him aches to find relief even in passing pressure and friction. Yussa bites his lip, deliriously imagining the mess Caleb is making of him with oil, slick, and come. A wave of tension rolls through him and he takes a sharper breath the next time their bodies meet.
Soft, nearly incoherent Elvish falls from his lips between gasping breaths, and it sounds like it might be praise or pleading, or some mix of both.
At first, Caleb has to remind himself to prioritize his own pleasure. Yussa should be feeling good too, of course, but he's already decided not to focus on getting him off, instead allowing himself to take what he's earned. If Yussa wants to come, it will have to be from this alone, without his help. It seems he's making an attempt; his thighs spread wider and he repositions himself on the pillows, probably to grind his clit against the bolster.
He likes that. His hands slide up to seize the other man's hips, gripping tight and guiding his back into a deeper arch as he sinks more of his own weight into his next thrust, fucking down into him harder. The sound of their bodies meeting is louder, sharper. Caleb submits to his own needs, and something decompresses in his mind. He gives in to the intoxicating pull to fuck his highly receptive lover the way he likes, taking his pleasure self-indulgently from the soft, lavishly slick heat of his tight ass.
Yussa's desperate Elvish is lost on him but for tone, and part of him likes it that way. His reactive twitching and pleading only encourages him to demand more with a rasping undercurrent of his own breathless praise, mostly in Zemnian, but occasionally heavily accented Common. Promises to plug him up and have his ass again later, how he'll be thinking about this for months to come.
He likes that. His hands slide up to seize the other man's hips, gripping tight and guiding his back into a deeper arch as he sinks more of his own weight into his next thrust, fucking down into him harder. The sound of their bodies meeting is louder, sharper. Caleb submits to his own needs, and something decompresses in his mind. He gives in to the intoxicating pull to fuck his highly receptive lover the way he likes, taking his pleasure self-indulgently from the soft, lavishly slick heat of his tight ass.
Yussa's desperate Elvish is lost on him but for tone, and part of him likes it that way. His reactive twitching and pleading only encourages him to demand more with a rasping undercurrent of his own breathless praise, mostly in Zemnian, but occasionally heavily accented Common. Promises to plug him up and have his ass again later, how he'll be thinking about this for months to come.
Yussa moans sharply as Caleb adjusts their position minutely, ensuring he can thrust harder while keeping Yussa pinned in place. Even his addled mind knows this is self-indulgent in a way Caleb rarely (if ever) allows himself when they are together and Yussa is overwhelmed by the pleasure it brings them both.
He gives up all pretense of being in control of anything, including himself. Caleb is fucking him for his own pleasure, and so Yussa will seek his as best he can. He can make out some of the filth Caleb promises him and he feels a wave of tension roll through his body - he likes that.
He clutches the cushions beneath him and presses against the bolster, finding a rhythm that's driven in part by Caleb's. He grinds mindlessly, eagerly against the pillow beneath him, finding relief in the pressure and friction against his clit. That inspires another wave of eager tension, another gasping moan as he tries to reach another orgasm. He isn't sure that he can or will before Caleb finishes, but it's worth the effort.
He gives up all pretense of being in control of anything, including himself. Caleb is fucking him for his own pleasure, and so Yussa will seek his as best he can. He can make out some of the filth Caleb promises him and he feels a wave of tension roll through his body - he likes that.
He clutches the cushions beneath him and presses against the bolster, finding a rhythm that's driven in part by Caleb's. He grinds mindlessly, eagerly against the pillow beneath him, finding relief in the pressure and friction against his clit. That inspires another wave of eager tension, another gasping moan as he tries to reach another orgasm. He isn't sure that he can or will before Caleb finishes, but it's worth the effort.
Though he isn't so blatant as to slip a hand between his legs, Yussa's increasingly desperate bid to get himself off as Caleb fucks him is hardly subtle. And the more obvious it is, the more he moans and gasps and rocks his hips and grinds against the bolster positioned under him, the more it thrills Caleb to watch him, to feel him. In a complete reversal of what he usually seeks, part of him perversely hopes Yussa won't come before he's finished with him, that he'll be left exhausted and quivering and frustrated with unfulfilled arousal, aching for Caleb's next touch.
It is this thought that spurs him on, giving himself permission to really chase his peak rather than attempt to draw this out. Remarkably, only a little more than two hours has passed since Caleb arrived for his seven o'clock appointment. It is only barely after dark. They still have all night to be together this way, and some of the morning too.
So Caleb takes much and gives little back, holding Yussa's hips in a bruising grip and sinking into his eager body again and again until his rhythm falls apart with cresting pleasure. Just at the edge, as he can feel his balls tightening, he thrusts fast and deep once, twice more--then pulls out completely, fisting his slick length and stroking himself fast and tight. It's only seconds before he's coming hard with a guttural groan, striping Yussa's brown skin with his spend. He works himself through each heavy throb of his cock, spilling over the curve of Yussa's ass, his hole, his swollen slit, the back of his thighs. The sight alone is arousing enough to coax out an extra pulse, which he rubs indulgently against Yussa's used, yielding hole with the wet head of his cock.
Suddenly lightheaded, he doesn't move, catching his breath and admiring his handiwork in an orgasm-stupid haze.
It is this thought that spurs him on, giving himself permission to really chase his peak rather than attempt to draw this out. Remarkably, only a little more than two hours has passed since Caleb arrived for his seven o'clock appointment. It is only barely after dark. They still have all night to be together this way, and some of the morning too.
So Caleb takes much and gives little back, holding Yussa's hips in a bruising grip and sinking into his eager body again and again until his rhythm falls apart with cresting pleasure. Just at the edge, as he can feel his balls tightening, he thrusts fast and deep once, twice more--then pulls out completely, fisting his slick length and stroking himself fast and tight. It's only seconds before he's coming hard with a guttural groan, striping Yussa's brown skin with his spend. He works himself through each heavy throb of his cock, spilling over the curve of Yussa's ass, his hole, his swollen slit, the back of his thighs. The sight alone is arousing enough to coax out an extra pulse, which he rubs indulgently against Yussa's used, yielding hole with the wet head of his cock.
Suddenly lightheaded, he doesn't move, catching his breath and admiring his handiwork in an orgasm-stupid haze.
Gods, even with Caleb deep inside him, Yussa aches for more. It's so good and yet not quite enough and it's driving him mad. His thighs strain further apart as if that will somehow get him something more. It becomes more difficult when Caleb's rhythm breaks and Yussa whines weakly as the other man thrusts hard into him before abruptly pulling out. That earns a louder cry of protest when he is suddenly left empty. He grips the pillows to keep himself from trying to replace Caleb's cock with his fingers.
When Yussa peers over his shoulder he's met with the sight of Caleb stroking himself until he feels the first smatter of come on his ass. Then he feels it over his hole, his cunt. Deliriously, he wonders how it looks against the henna designs on the backs of his thighs.
With a soft groan, Yussa allows himself to slump entirely. He gives a weak, half-hearted grind against the bolster, but he would need to make more effort to get himself off. He's not close enough to the edge for it to be easy, but he's worked up enough to ache for more. He can feel his cunt throb and bear down, even if there is nothing to give any satisfaction. He isn't expecting to feel the head of Caleb's cock rubbing against him, and he realizes vaguely that the other man is spreading the last of his spend.
Yussa knows he's dripping wet, leaking come from both holes and now with more spilled over them. There's oil and his own slick mingling with it, and now sweat. He's a mess, and still all he can think about is helplessly grinding against the bolster, weakly seeking friction that still isn't enough to even take the edge off. He stops again after just a few seconds, falling still as he struggles to catch his breath. He can hear Caleb panting behind him and Yussa is well aware that the other man is likely admiring his work.
When Yussa peers over his shoulder he's met with the sight of Caleb stroking himself until he feels the first smatter of come on his ass. Then he feels it over his hole, his cunt. Deliriously, he wonders how it looks against the henna designs on the backs of his thighs.
With a soft groan, Yussa allows himself to slump entirely. He gives a weak, half-hearted grind against the bolster, but he would need to make more effort to get himself off. He's not close enough to the edge for it to be easy, but he's worked up enough to ache for more. He can feel his cunt throb and bear down, even if there is nothing to give any satisfaction. He isn't expecting to feel the head of Caleb's cock rubbing against him, and he realizes vaguely that the other man is spreading the last of his spend.
Yussa knows he's dripping wet, leaking come from both holes and now with more spilled over them. There's oil and his own slick mingling with it, and now sweat. He's a mess, and still all he can think about is helplessly grinding against the bolster, weakly seeking friction that still isn't enough to even take the edge off. He stops again after just a few seconds, falling still as he struggles to catch his breath. He can hear Caleb panting behind him and Yussa is well aware that the other man is likely admiring his work.
Edited 2023-10-24 20:45 (UTC)
Yussa is a mess, Caleb has made a mess of him, and it is ridiculously hot. Never has he seen his lover so wrecked in quite this way before, and he relishes it. Releasing his slowly softening cock, Caleb instead traces fingertips lightly up the back of one adorned thigh, wiping a smatter of come from the other man's skin where it has landed across the henna design there. Rather than raising it to his own lips, as perhaps Yussa might expect, he reaches down and presses his fingers to Yussa's lips instead--then past them, if he'll allow it.
Clearly he hasn't gotten off yet, and he isn't going to. Gods, why is that so appealing? The way he grinds his hips down against the bolster is half-hearted at best, more a reflex than trying to achieve a goal, resigned. Caleb actively suppresses his first instinct, which is to do something about that himself. That isn't the way he is playing right now.
When he at last feels coherent enough himself, he speaks up. His voice is a low rasp still, but softer. Almost sweet, despite the utterly filthy way he strokes Yussa's tongue with his fingers. "I know you are exhausted, schatz," he says, "but we should clean up before we rest." Even if they don't sleep, taking an hour or two to relax and cuddle and recover is essential if they wish to continue later. Which Caleb very much does. He paid for the night, and he is going to have it.
Conveniently, this room has a beautiful bathing pool set into the center of the floor. Caleb noticed it when he came in, flower petals drifting on the surface of the water, a basket on ledge containing everything needed for a pricy courtesan to pamper himself or his client.
Clearly he hasn't gotten off yet, and he isn't going to. Gods, why is that so appealing? The way he grinds his hips down against the bolster is half-hearted at best, more a reflex than trying to achieve a goal, resigned. Caleb actively suppresses his first instinct, which is to do something about that himself. That isn't the way he is playing right now.
When he at last feels coherent enough himself, he speaks up. His voice is a low rasp still, but softer. Almost sweet, despite the utterly filthy way he strokes Yussa's tongue with his fingers. "I know you are exhausted, schatz," he says, "but we should clean up before we rest." Even if they don't sleep, taking an hour or two to relax and cuddle and recover is essential if they wish to continue later. Which Caleb very much does. He paid for the night, and he is going to have it.
Conveniently, this room has a beautiful bathing pool set into the center of the floor. Caleb noticed it when he came in, flower petals drifting on the surface of the water, a basket on ledge containing everything needed for a pricy courtesan to pamper himself or his client.
He isn't expecting it, but Yussa's lips part at the touch of Caleb's fingers. He tastes the other man's come as soon as they brush against his tongue. Yussa offers a weak suck before his mouth yields to whatever Caleb wants to do. He feels another aching throb low in his body as his patron's fingers stroke over his tongue.
The younger man's voice is so tender as he speaks and Yussa could almost forget his current state if not for the fingers in his mouth. He nods a little to acknowledge Caleb's desire to bathe, but he doesn't try to speak until Caleb's fingers slip out of his mouth.
"The bath is ready," he murmurs, his accent heavy and his voice betraying both his lingering need and his rightly noted exhaustion. It takes a little while, but soon enough Yussa manages to push himself up, straddling the bolster as he sits back. Gods, he wants to push Caleb back onto the bed, he wants to straddle his lover's head instead of this pillow and take what he aches to have. But that is not the game, and despite his simmering need, Yussa is enjoying himself immensely ceding his normal control to Caleb.
He attempts to get his white hair back in order, combing trembling fingers through it to at least get it out of his face. Whenever Caleb is ready to move, Yussa will follow.
The younger man's voice is so tender as he speaks and Yussa could almost forget his current state if not for the fingers in his mouth. He nods a little to acknowledge Caleb's desire to bathe, but he doesn't try to speak until Caleb's fingers slip out of his mouth.
"The bath is ready," he murmurs, his accent heavy and his voice betraying both his lingering need and his rightly noted exhaustion. It takes a little while, but soon enough Yussa manages to push himself up, straddling the bolster as he sits back. Gods, he wants to push Caleb back onto the bed, he wants to straddle his lover's head instead of this pillow and take what he aches to have. But that is not the game, and despite his simmering need, Yussa is enjoying himself immensely ceding his normal control to Caleb.
He attempts to get his white hair back in order, combing trembling fingers through it to at least get it out of his face. Whenever Caleb is ready to move, Yussa will follow.
Caleb nods, noting both the weariness and still-apparent arousal in Yussa's voice. The other man manages to get himself into a sitting position, thighs still hugging the bolster. Before he can move any further, however, Caleb clicks his tongue as though just remembering something, and says, "Ah, but first--stay there a moment, bitte."
His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.
His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.
Yussa doesn't bother to hide the flicker of confusion across his face as Caleb asks him to stay where he is. He watches, almost uncomprehending, as the other man gets up to look over the table of toys--and he finally catches up when he sees the plug Caleb's chosen. He bites his lip when Caleb shows it to him. He can't help the way he stares as the other man slicks it up, knowing what he intends to do and yet still not entirely processing it.
But then the other man coaxes him to lean forward and he does as he's told, and soon enough Yussa feels the slick, cool glass against him. He doesn't bother to hold back the little whine in the back of his throat as it sinks into him - almost effortlessly - and settles with the base against his skin. Gods, Caleb said he would do it and the experience is still striking. The way Caleb pats his hip when he finishes is--he doesn't even know how to describe it. But it resonates. He only moves again when his patron encourages him - and helps him. Yussa finds himself grateful for that, as his legs are still unsteady and now he's intensely aware of the plug settled inside him.
Yussa continues to depend on Caleb's gentle support as he eases down into the bath. A smile finally reappears as Caleb brushes his hair back.
"Of course," he answers, feeling more coherent and more in control of himself. The scent of the water is gently floral, both from the oil that is in the water and the petals floating on top of it. Yussa can't believe quite how mindless he felt until a moment ago, slow to comprehend and slow to react. Gods, Caleb is impressive.
But then the other man coaxes him to lean forward and he does as he's told, and soon enough Yussa feels the slick, cool glass against him. He doesn't bother to hold back the little whine in the back of his throat as it sinks into him - almost effortlessly - and settles with the base against his skin. Gods, Caleb said he would do it and the experience is still striking. The way Caleb pats his hip when he finishes is--he doesn't even know how to describe it. But it resonates. He only moves again when his patron encourages him - and helps him. Yussa finds himself grateful for that, as his legs are still unsteady and now he's intensely aware of the plug settled inside him.
Yussa continues to depend on Caleb's gentle support as he eases down into the bath. A smile finally reappears as Caleb brushes his hair back.
"Of course," he answers, feeling more coherent and more in control of himself. The scent of the water is gently floral, both from the oil that is in the water and the petals floating on top of it. Yussa can't believe quite how mindless he felt until a moment ago, slow to comprehend and slow to react. Gods, Caleb is impressive.
Caleb's smile brightens when given permission, as though being allowed to help Yussa bathe is a more intimate and unexpected privilege than what they've already done together--what he has already claimed from this man. Liberties taken without asking may I? in exchange for the coin still glinting on the table near the door. And Yussa has been so receptive to all of it. Even his lethargy now feels like a reward.
Soap and washcloth in hand, Caleb begins to gently lather Yussa's skin, beginning at his shoulders. He's been admiring the intricate henna tattoos covering much of him for hours, but now he has the chance to really look at them in detail as he washes the evidence of sex from his lover's body. He traces the lines of ink with his fingers as he works his way down the front of his body, veering only to generously soap and indulgently grope Yussa's small, pert breasts, thumbing over a few light bruises in the distinct shape of his mouth.
Selfishly, he wants to slip a hand between Yussa's legs just to feel the lingering evidence of his unsatisfied arousal, his erect clit jutting from slick-soaked folds, and held within his body, the width of the glass plug keeping his well-fucked ass stretched wide for him. But that would be cruel when he still has no intention of making him come, so he refrains.
He kisses Yussa's brow first as his hands cover his body with purpose, but soon leans down to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss. It's been a bit, and he has always loved kissing Yussa--and Yussa had admitted to him earlier tonight that he very much enjoys kissing, too. Why not indulge, then, in a little lazy making out while they wash?
Soap and washcloth in hand, Caleb begins to gently lather Yussa's skin, beginning at his shoulders. He's been admiring the intricate henna tattoos covering much of him for hours, but now he has the chance to really look at them in detail as he washes the evidence of sex from his lover's body. He traces the lines of ink with his fingers as he works his way down the front of his body, veering only to generously soap and indulgently grope Yussa's small, pert breasts, thumbing over a few light bruises in the distinct shape of his mouth.
Selfishly, he wants to slip a hand between Yussa's legs just to feel the lingering evidence of his unsatisfied arousal, his erect clit jutting from slick-soaked folds, and held within his body, the width of the glass plug keeping his well-fucked ass stretched wide for him. But that would be cruel when he still has no intention of making him come, so he refrains.
He kisses Yussa's brow first as his hands cover his body with purpose, but soon leans down to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss. It's been a bit, and he has always loved kissing Yussa--and Yussa had admitted to him earlier tonight that he very much enjoys kissing, too. Why not indulge, then, in a little lazy making out while they wash?
Yussa breathes a softer sigh as Caleb takes the soap and cloth to his sweat-streaked skin. A small, private smile appears as the other man takes time to look at the henna. It won't wash away or smudge, thankfully, so Caleb can explore and examine the patterns as much as he wants. The deliberate tracing of his fingers along the familiar lines makes Yussa feel warm; the way his patron gets distracted by groping him makes his smile grow more indulgent.
He tips his head up as Caleb kisses his brow and meets him as the other man leans down to properly kiss him. He sways closer, one hand resting lightly against Caleb's chest and the other on his cheek. It's a sweet kiss, not quite chaste, and Yussa is content to indulge Caleb's desire for it. With the next kiss his lips part slightly in silent invitation, tempting Caleb to take more.
Having a patron so keen to tend to his pleasure, to his likes and dislikes, makes for a very pleasant evening. Even if Caleb is currently ignoring his lingering arousal. Yussa feels more sensitive in that condition, enough that even little currents of water created when Caleb moves reminds him of it.
He tips his head up as Caleb kisses his brow and meets him as the other man leans down to properly kiss him. He sways closer, one hand resting lightly against Caleb's chest and the other on his cheek. It's a sweet kiss, not quite chaste, and Yussa is content to indulge Caleb's desire for it. With the next kiss his lips part slightly in silent invitation, tempting Caleb to take more.
Having a patron so keen to tend to his pleasure, to his likes and dislikes, makes for a very pleasant evening. Even if Caleb is currently ignoring his lingering arousal. Yussa feels more sensitive in that condition, enough that even little currents of water created when Caleb moves reminds him of it.
That is a temptation he doesn't even attempt resisting. His tongue brushes over Yussa's parted lips, tracing the lower one delicately before slipping into his mouth. More preoccupied by kissing than he expected, his attention for washing wanes, to be resumed afterward. In the meantime Caleb touches his lover everywhere, hands running along his sides, down his back, over his ass. Maybe that still counts, somewhat. Yussa is already much cleaner than he was.
Perhaps he isn't tending Yussa's arousal directly, but he gladly touches him in ways he clearly enjoys, repeatedly returning to squeeze and skim his fingers over spots that draw out a particular response, whether a shiver or a soft sound or subtly leaning into him. Invited to do so, Caleb kisses him thoroughly all the while.
When the kiss does break at last, Caleb doesn't move away. He strokes the soft skin at the small of Yussa's back and smiles down at him, fonder than he should be of a man he met only hours ago, but he think that somehow fits this little fantasy, too. There is an undeniable connection, a genuine chemistry that perhaps courtesan-Yussa might recognize all the more for so often having to fabricate it. But tonight, everything is raw and true except what isn't: the entire premise of this little scene.
"After we bathe, I think a short rest is in order," he murmurs, the thickly accented rasp of his voice colored warmly with gentle humor. "The night is still young, but we have already worn each other out very thoroughly."
Perhaps he isn't tending Yussa's arousal directly, but he gladly touches him in ways he clearly enjoys, repeatedly returning to squeeze and skim his fingers over spots that draw out a particular response, whether a shiver or a soft sound or subtly leaning into him. Invited to do so, Caleb kisses him thoroughly all the while.
When the kiss does break at last, Caleb doesn't move away. He strokes the soft skin at the small of Yussa's back and smiles down at him, fonder than he should be of a man he met only hours ago, but he think that somehow fits this little fantasy, too. There is an undeniable connection, a genuine chemistry that perhaps courtesan-Yussa might recognize all the more for so often having to fabricate it. But tonight, everything is raw and true except what isn't: the entire premise of this little scene.
"After we bathe, I think a short rest is in order," he murmurs, the thickly accented rasp of his voice colored warmly with gentle humor. "The night is still young, but we have already worn each other out very thoroughly."
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