They work together to remove his last layers, and then Caleb settles further back on the bed as Yussa stretches, giving him more room to work. Today Yussa is showing himself off, accentuating his features with ink and jewelery, and Caleb can't possibly get his fill of looking at him.
Luckily, he can look all he wants. Which he does as Yussa joins him again, stroking the spit-slick length of him with a relaxed ease before bending to apply his mouth again. Caleb showers him with more husky praise in his own tongue, feeling his pulse jump as Yussa falls back into a rhythm, taking his cues from Caleb himself as his hips buck up. Despite his resolve to allow Yussa his freedom, pleasure makes his control slip, and he can't stop himself from rubbing the underside of his cock across his lover's tongue and fucking into his throat, hand cradling his head.
Everything about this is heady, almost illicitly so. It feels wrong to take so much for himself while giving nothing in return. Yet this encounter is designed to center his pleasure in a way that is like nothing they've done before. Part of him still balks at letting himself feel good. It longs for the comforting certainty of submission, reminding him that he should be the one serving, lavishing Yussa with attention. This is more than he deserves. But Yussa wants this; the client-provider dynamic is part of what he seeks from this fantasy, so to please him, Caleb must allow himself a little selfishness. That is how he must justify it in his mind, anyway.
The heavy, hot tension focused between his legs winds up as quickly as he expected. His thighs are spread wide now to accommodate Yussa between them, feet braced on the bed. Caleb whimpers and pants intermittently, grinding his cock without finesse against Yussa's gold-smeared lips and taking his pleasure with the tight slickness of his throat. His fingers wind into his hair, not pulling, but gripping with increasing urgency. His balls ache with how close he is.
He should stop. He should stop now while he can, but gods, it's so good. That was a task he entrusted to Yussa for a reason; now that he is there on the precipice, he has a hard time seeing why he would want to do anything but drop over it.
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Luckily, he can look all he wants. Which he does as Yussa joins him again, stroking the spit-slick length of him with a relaxed ease before bending to apply his mouth again. Caleb showers him with more husky praise in his own tongue, feeling his pulse jump as Yussa falls back into a rhythm, taking his cues from Caleb himself as his hips buck up. Despite his resolve to allow Yussa his freedom, pleasure makes his control slip, and he can't stop himself from rubbing the underside of his cock across his lover's tongue and fucking into his throat, hand cradling his head.
Everything about this is heady, almost illicitly so. It feels wrong to take so much for himself while giving nothing in return. Yet this encounter is designed to center his pleasure in a way that is like nothing they've done before. Part of him still balks at letting himself feel good. It longs for the comforting certainty of submission, reminding him that he should be the one serving, lavishing Yussa with attention. This is more than he deserves. But Yussa wants this; the client-provider dynamic is part of what he seeks from this fantasy, so to please him, Caleb must allow himself a little selfishness. That is how he must justify it in his mind, anyway.
The heavy, hot tension focused between his legs winds up as quickly as he expected. His thighs are spread wide now to accommodate Yussa between them, feet braced on the bed. Caleb whimpers and pants intermittently, grinding his cock without finesse against Yussa's gold-smeared lips and taking his pleasure with the tight slickness of his throat. His fingers wind into his hair, not pulling, but gripping with increasing urgency. His balls ache with how close he is.
He should stop. He should stop now while he can, but gods, it's so good. That was a task he entrusted to Yussa for a reason; now that he is there on the precipice, he has a hard time seeing why he would want to do anything but drop over it.