Caleb feels greedy. As Yussa falls apart yet again against him, around him, he can't help thinking that he'd take this as many times as he could get it. He loves feeling Yussa's pleasure, knowing he's been skilled and clever enough and desired enough to cause it. He presses the other man close, accounting for the shift in weight as he loses the ability to hold himself up. He is trembling far too much for that.
His own breath comes hard and heavy. Yussa feels too good tightening around him. His fingers press deep into his ass and fall still as he uses the grip of his fluttering cunt for several more hard thrusts, driving into him with a demand that he desperately needs fulfilled. His cock pulses inside him, and finally with a groan Caleb shoves deep and comes, going still. It rolls through him in delirious, amplified waves as he gives Yussa what he'd asked for, spilling full and thick inside him.
The problem is that he now feels pretty wrung out too. The best he can do is sit back more heavily on his heels and let Yussa straddle his lap, keeping him close as his cock twitches with release in his cunt.
Orgasms here really aren't like anything else he's experienced; they last and last, refracted and reflected and repeating, and the intensity is unmatched. It is almost like he can sense Yussa's pleasure too, an invisible but tangible bond, and it only drives him higher. He kisses him, looking for somewhere to share that intensity.
Yussa feels Caleb come and the intensity of his lover's orgasm earns a whimper from him, but that is the best he can manage. His arms tighten briefly when Caleb's weight shifts beneath him, and it occurs to him in delirious passing that perhaps they should have done this on the floor. The table is wide and sturdy, but there is still the slight chance of falling off it.
He can't bring himself to care, though. He's floating in his pleasure, anchored only by the very real feeling of Caleb's body against his. Yussa presses a kiss to the other man's neck before slowly pulling away. He doesn't go far, and it's not particularly graceful as far as dismounts go. The elf eases out of Caleb's lap and catches himself on one hand to keep himself from just falling onto the table next to the other wizard. Yussa lets himself lay there, flushed skin gleaming with sweat and chest gently heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
As soon as Caleb, still half-stunned, catches on that Yussa wants to move, he assists to the best of his ability. They've both definitely been more graceful, and Caleb can't help the sharp breath as Yussa lifts off him, but the elf makes it onto the table, and Caleb follows a moment later, sprawling beside him. They are both sweaty and out of breath and exhausted, but it's just as it should be after sex like that. Caleb lifts a shaky hand to card it through his own hair, pushing it out of his face.
"Okay," he breathes. "I think that will do it."
His head tilts to regard his companion. Yussa looks as gorgeous like this as he ever does--better, even, if Caleb is to allow himself a bit of a selfish perspective. This is his handiwork. Well-fucked is a good look on him. He regards him with a deep fondness as he seeks out his hand between them, just touching his fingers to the back of it for a little connection.
"Everything all right?" he asks gently. That was pretty intense even for him, and it's always better to check in.
Yussa doesn't immediately respond beyond the way his hand moves beneath Caleb's gentle touch. It is not acceptable to fall asleep here on this table, but there is a part of him that would like to do so.
He opens his eyes slowly and tips his head so that he can look at the younger man. Yussa manages a faint, brief smile.
"I'm fine, thank you." His voice is hoarse and he is an utter mess, but if this has served its purpose to clear Caleb's head, Yussa is willing to endure all of that. Hand feels so heavy as he lifts it, but he reaches to stroke his fingers over Caleb's bearded cheek.
Given the effort it must take to move at all, Caleb appreciates the gentle touch to his face all the more. He's got to be a terrible mess himself, but it isn't as though anyone else will see them. This is something that is just theirs.
"Ja, much," he reports, realizing it's true. The distraction and cloudiness of mind that have plagued him for the better part of two days now seems to have abated. Now he's left only with the Feywild's usual influence. "Thank you." His smile is mostly in his eyes, but gods, he really is grateful. He'll owe Yussa something truly wonderful for this.
Not that it wasn't enjoyable for both of them, but still. He's relied on him quite a lot.
"Good," he murmurs, a faint smile in his voice. He shifts more so that he's partially on his front, arms pillowed beneath his head. "As much as I would like to sleep, we need to find our way out of here, Master Widogast. And I will need you for that."
Which is not to say he has participated for purely selfish reasons, but he needs his lover's keen mind, his fresh eyes, and his focus. The latter has been considerably compromised for a while.
"If you manage to get up before I do, hand me my clothes."
He lifts his hand from beneath Caleb's so that he can manage the somatic element of Prestidigitation. He casts it twice: once on himself, and again on Caleb, to take care of the worst of the mess between them.
"You will have me," Caleb promises. If there's anything he wants, it's to get out of here and prove to Yussa that he still has a brain in his head--fucking isn't all he thinks about.
That seems like an indication that he should get up and hand Yussa his clothes, so after he's been prestidigitated relatively clean, he makes an attempt. He feels wrung out and sore, but he's got to be doing better than Yussa. He pushes himself up, then slowly to the edge of the table, where he gets his footing carefully before standing.
Their clothing is a bit scattered, since they were both removing it in a hurry, but Caleb manages to collect all of it from the floor and place it on the table, Yussa's divided from his own. With a little momentum behind him, starting to get dressed isn't quite so daunting.
"Despite the circumstances, there is something satisfying about fucking on one of Halas' workroom tables," he observes wryly as he pulls on pants, glancing up to meet Yussa's eye with a curl of his lips.
Yussa takes a moment to recover himself as Caleb collects their clothes. He stays horizontal - even as he pulls on his smalls and his trousers - until it is no longer practical to do so. With a soft sigh, the archmage eases off the table. He will be sore, of that he has no doubt. He combs his fingers through his hair and he cannot help a quiet laugh at Caleb's comment.
He looks over his shoulder at the table in question and allows himself a satisfied smirk.
"Hm. I think you're right," he says as he pulls his shirt back on. It doesn't take long for Yussa to dress again, thankfully. Though he wears layers for adventuring, they are more or less practical.
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His own breath comes hard and heavy. Yussa feels too good tightening around him. His fingers press deep into his ass and fall still as he uses the grip of his fluttering cunt for several more hard thrusts, driving into him with a demand that he desperately needs fulfilled. His cock pulses inside him, and finally with a groan Caleb shoves deep and comes, going still. It rolls through him in delirious, amplified waves as he gives Yussa what he'd asked for, spilling full and thick inside him.
The problem is that he now feels pretty wrung out too. The best he can do is sit back more heavily on his heels and let Yussa straddle his lap, keeping him close as his cock twitches with release in his cunt.
Orgasms here really aren't like anything else he's experienced; they last and last, refracted and reflected and repeating, and the intensity is unmatched. It is almost like he can sense Yussa's pleasure too, an invisible but tangible bond, and it only drives him higher. He kisses him, looking for somewhere to share that intensity.
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He can't bring himself to care, though. He's floating in his pleasure, anchored only by the very real feeling of Caleb's body against his. Yussa presses a kiss to the other man's neck before slowly pulling away. He doesn't go far, and it's not particularly graceful as far as dismounts go. The elf eases out of Caleb's lap and catches himself on one hand to keep himself from just falling onto the table next to the other wizard. Yussa lets himself lay there, flushed skin gleaming with sweat and chest gently heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
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"Okay," he breathes. "I think that will do it."
His head tilts to regard his companion. Yussa looks as gorgeous like this as he ever does--better, even, if Caleb is to allow himself a bit of a selfish perspective. This is his handiwork. Well-fucked is a good look on him. He regards him with a deep fondness as he seeks out his hand between them, just touching his fingers to the back of it for a little connection.
"Everything all right?" he asks gently. That was pretty intense even for him, and it's always better to check in.
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He opens his eyes slowly and tips his head so that he can look at the younger man. Yussa manages a faint, brief smile.
"I'm fine, thank you." His voice is hoarse and he is an utter mess, but if this has served its purpose to clear Caleb's head, Yussa is willing to endure all of that. Hand feels so heavy as he lifts it, but he reaches to stroke his fingers over Caleb's bearded cheek.
"And you? Feeling clearer?"
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"Ja, much," he reports, realizing it's true. The distraction and cloudiness of mind that have plagued him for the better part of two days now seems to have abated. Now he's left only with the Feywild's usual influence. "Thank you." His smile is mostly in his eyes, but gods, he really is grateful. He'll owe Yussa something truly wonderful for this.
Not that it wasn't enjoyable for both of them, but still. He's relied on him quite a lot.
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Which is not to say he has participated for purely selfish reasons, but he needs his lover's keen mind, his fresh eyes, and his focus. The latter has been considerably compromised for a while.
"If you manage to get up before I do, hand me my clothes."
He lifts his hand from beneath Caleb's so that he can manage the somatic element of Prestidigitation. He casts it twice: once on himself, and again on Caleb, to take care of the worst of the mess between them.
no subject
That seems like an indication that he should get up and hand Yussa his clothes, so after he's been prestidigitated relatively clean, he makes an attempt. He feels wrung out and sore, but he's got to be doing better than Yussa. He pushes himself up, then slowly to the edge of the table, where he gets his footing carefully before standing.
Their clothing is a bit scattered, since they were both removing it in a hurry, but Caleb manages to collect all of it from the floor and place it on the table, Yussa's divided from his own. With a little momentum behind him, starting to get dressed isn't quite so daunting.
"Despite the circumstances, there is something satisfying about fucking on one of Halas' workroom tables," he observes wryly as he pulls on pants, glancing up to meet Yussa's eye with a curl of his lips.
no subject
He looks over his shoulder at the table in question and allows himself a satisfied smirk.
"Hm. I think you're right," he says as he pulls his shirt back on. It doesn't take long for Yussa to dress again, thankfully. Though he wears layers for adventuring, they are more or less practical.