"Impressively... yes," he answers, amused and indulgent as Caleb turns his head toward his touch. "My partners either couldn't grow beards or remained clean-shaven."
It's nice to know that he can still find novelty at his age. Yussa shifts subtly as Caleb strokes along his slit, parting wet folds with his fingers and knuckles as he gathers some of the copious wetness there. It's easy enough to keep the conversation going, at least on Yussa's end. He is very aware of Caleb's hard cock and the faint sheen of precome that's smeared on his skin where the flushed head has brushed against his stomach.
There's only a soft catch in his breath as the first finger slides back into him without any resistance. Yussa kisses Caleb again and his manicured nails drag against Caleb's beard when he feels the second finger teasing and rubbing against him. Yussa tips his hips, trying to encourage the extra penetration. After two orgasms so close together, he's sure he can manage it.
"Go on," he murmurs when they part, just in case Caleb needs the extra affirmation. He wants to feel the stretch, to know that he is that much closer to having Caleb's cock again after months of passing memories.
Caleb needs no further confirmation. He adds that second finger to the first and presses them in together. Though he feels the expected resistance of Yussa's cunt stretching around a larger intrusion, he also finds that he doesn't have to go quite as slowly as he expected. Yussa is very ready for this step. Caleb rocks his fingers in and out, firm and attentive, coaxing the tightness of Yussa's body to yield for him.
He likes very much the way Yussa scratches through his beard as they kiss, so he encourages it with soft noises lost against Yussa's lips. The first time they were together, he was taken by the way Yussa kisses him, and that has not changed. It feels like Yussa is seeking something from him with every kiss, and Caleb is happy to give and give, his mouth already sensitive and well used. He sweeps his tongue past Yussa's lips as his fingers slot deep into his cunt; he curls them up as he drags them out again, and pulls back for a sharp breath.
"You feel good," he whispers hoarsely, close enough still to feel Yussa's breath on his lips. "I thought of this often. I hoped that I was not the only one."
Gods, it feels like it has been longer than a few months. He has changed in that time. How is it that he can stagnate for decades and then change enough for a lifetime in a single year? The man he was when they first fucked was a far cry from who he was when they met, and he has grown more still since then. He wonders what Yussa sees when he looks at him. He wonders what it is about Caleb Widogast that intrigues him.
Yussa makes a quiet sound as two fingers press into him, gently coaxing his body to yield to the thicker penetration. It doesn't take much in this relaxed state, but he can still feel it. He stays close, enjoying being cradled against Caleb's side as they kiss. He likes the way Caleb's tongue fills his mouth, the tenderness and intensity in every kiss. His cunt squeezes around the younger man's fingers as they drag back, then push deep again.
When they part, Yussa's breath comes quicker as the slow caresses coax him deeper into arousal. A smile appears and he gives Caleb a lighter kiss.
"No, you were not alone in indulging those memories." It does feel like it has been much longer, even for Yussa. He kisses Caleb again, and again, catching his bottom lip in a gentle bite and suck on his lower lip.
"You have grown since then," he murmurs. "And much more since the day we met. I am gratified to see the potential I saw then come to bear."
That Yussa's thoughts have strayed in a similar direction to his own makes Caleb flush for reasons beyond sex or arousal. That the archmage has spared the time to consider his growth over the past year, his potential, is somehow unexpected, and just as flattering as the idea that he's indulged in memories of their first encounter like this.
"Well," Caleb murmurs, somehow bashful as he continues to stretch Yussa on his fingers, "you have had a part in that yourself."
He becomes very aware of how sore his lips are when he smiles. It's an ache that goes straight to his cock. Yussa's sharper kisses have left his already used mouth raw and stinging, and he can't get enough of it.
Holding Yussa against him this way feels good; exciting, and somehow comforting. The almost casual skinship is an intimacy he hadn't dared the last time, but it is remarkably natural now. Their bodies fit together well, they can easily talk and kiss, and Caleb can indulgently watch his fingers sliding slickly in and out of his cunt. The warm flickering lanternlight and the view of the city and the sea far below lend the space an almost surreal quality, adding to the pleasant haze already enveloping his mind.
After making him come twice, Yussa's state of languid relaxation is not only attractive, but heady, knowing that he is responsible. Encouraged by his soft sounds of pleasure and the occasional squeeze of his cunt, Caleb doesn't wait long to start working a third finger into him. Though he took two more easily than Caleb had anticipated, he can feel right away how the addition of a third is a challenge. Yussa is a petite man, and the way his entrance slowly stretches around three of Caleb's long human-sized fingers looks thrillingly obscene.
"I am pleased to have contributed," he says with a flicker of a smile. He is quite sincere in that matter - if he's had even a slight hand in encouraging and shaping Caleb's talents, then the younger wizard's achievements reflect well on him.
Yussa shifts, trying to adjust his position to spread his legs more without interrupting Caleb's fingers as they stroke into him, and without sacrificing the comfort of their embrace. But he also wants to at least attempt to make it easier for Caleb to ease a third finger into him, knowing he will need it before taking his lover's cock. Pale lashes flutter as his body yields to the penetration, but he feels the stretch.
He wets his lips, and for a moment all he can do is breathe as Caleb coaxes him to relax further. He tips his head toward Caleb, nuzzling against him as the slide of his lover's fingers becomes easier. Caleb's hands are strong and dexterous, and Yussa finds himself quite enamored with how well he can use them. It should be expected in a wizard... though Yussa has found that is not always the rule.
"Ah--" His breath hiccups when Caleb's fingers move just so. He feels a blush warming his face and he is very aware of how it must look as Caleb works him open. Yussa coaxes Caleb into another kiss, edged with heat this time as his fingers push deep. He breaks it a moment later, just enough to speak.
Caleb finds himself with his nose in Yussa's hair as the other man nuzzles against him. Whatever he washes with has a lovely subtle botanical smell. He'll remember that, should he ever have Yussa as a guest in his own home.
The gradual yielding as his body accepts Caleb's fingers seems to renew Yussa's desire, the comfortable plateau of arousal post-orgasm finally spiking again. Caleb kisses him eagerly. The difference between this and the lazy making out they've been doing is palpable--and promising. Pride fills his chest with warmth. Though he has only been doing as asked, it pleases him to see clear evidence that Yussa is enjoying this. Enjoying him.
The burn of his own need has faded and flared intermittently, depending on his own focus. When Yussa speaks, the throb of his neglected erection against his thigh makes Caleb more aware of himself, of how he craves fulfillment, than he's been since this started.
"Gods, please," he whispers, choked.
He wants to roll fully onto his back and offer himself again like a tool to be used for precisely that purpose. He wants to feel the slick, tight channel squeezing around his slowly rocking fingers envelop his aching cock. The mere thought is almost too much. He's never been able to come untouched, but he is fairly certain that it won't take much to have him spilling over tonight. Which just isn't acceptable at all. There must be some preventative measure to take.
"Do you have some way to, ah...keep me going until you are satisfied?" His face is hot with a unique combination of embarrassment and arousal, but asking is far preferable to disappointing his lover with a lack of stamina. Yussa must understand, surely. He's been hard with barely a touch for some time tonight, which would be challenging even for a man who has sex far more often than Caleb. An idea flashes suddenly into his mind, and tumbles straight out from his lips. "My--my hair tie, perhaps--"
Secured firmly enough around the base of his cock, the strip of leather he uses to pull his hair back would serve that purpose. If only he knew where it disappeared to after Yussa slid it loose.
Caleb's voice brings a smile to life, hearing him barely choke out a whisper for how aroused he is. Even more impressive is his offer - his request. He tips Caleb's head for another kiss, firm and offering a bit of reassurance or approval.
"I think I can manage something," he murmurs, accent heavy. He gives Caleb another kiss, then reluctantly reaches down to gently push his lover's fingers out of him. He has no idea where Caleb's hair tie has gone, but that's not the only possibility at their disposal.
Once he's free, Yussa gets up on unsteady legs. Once he has his balance, Yussa moves with the same effortless grace and authority he carries when he is fully dressed. He goes to his clothes, all neatly set aside where Caleb left them. Nimble fingers explore the pile of fabric until he finds what he wants. He returns with a strip of gold fabric - a small piece used to secure one layer to another to ensure there is no sliding or slipping. It is maybe six or seven inches long.
"Stay still," he says as he returns and sits on the chaise. "A leather thong would be acceptable, but I think this is better."
And because it is too tempting to resist, Yussa gives Caleb a single stroke, just to feel the firm heat of him, before he sets to wrapping the base of his cock. His gaze flicks back up to the younger man.
"Tell me when it's tight enough." He's unyielding in that command, though still gentle in its delivery. He goes by Caleb's word, using some of his own experience to supplement. Then he ties the fabric, satisfied that it will serve its purpose. With that accomplished, his hand slips lower to gently hold and caress Caleb's balls. It's only a moment of indulgence before he lets go again.
Yussa moves to straddle Caleb's lap, golden eyes intent.
"I'll have to keep this in mind on your next visit so I am properly prepared," he says with a smirk.
Caleb doesn't miss Yussa's distinct interest in his suggestion, even layered beneath the kindness he shows. If he likes the idea of controlling when Caleb can come, then all the better. He lays back against the chaise as Yussa rises to find something suitable, and is surprised when he shows him a piece of his own outfit, surely too fine to be used for this purpose. But Caleb isn't about to argue. Most thoughts flee his head completely, in fact, when Yussa reaches for his cock.
Though he pumps his fist up his length only once, indulgently, Caleb's hands scrabble at the velvety surface of the chaise and his head falls back, a groan wrenched from his exposed throat. He's glad he'd had the foresight to know how wrecked he would be by even a little touch. From the way his cock throbs as Yussa goes on to tie the gold fabric around the base, it's plain that much more of that attention would have taken him apart completely.
Breathlessly, he speaks up when the fabric pinches just tight enough to feel prohibitive, but not uncomfortable. Not beyond the ache of sustained arousal, at least, which he feels in built-up tension from his abs all the way down to his thighs. Yussa's teasing rub over his balls, already tight and sore, brings a sharp awareness to that heavy, sweetly pulsing pain. He doesn't quite bite back a harsh hiss of air through his teeth. By the time Yussa swings a leg over his lap, Caleb's breathing is ragged, his brow knit up over dazed blue eyes that rake with desperate hunger over his slender body.
"Ja, that is...that would be good," he agrees. His voice is a distant croak to his own ears as his focus is pulled so sharply to Yussa, lingering between his legs on his gorgeous dark folds and swollen clit, both glistening wetly. The nearness of that slick heat to his straining, blood-hot cock--growing fuller redder still with this new restriction--walks the line between tantalizing and torturous.
But he must be good. He must show Yussa he can wait patiently for his reward. Caleb's teeth scrape over his already swollen lower lip, and his hands find the other man's thighs, gripping restlessly but undemandingly at the warm, smooth skin. Caleb is pretty fucking sure he's had this dream before: Yussa perched over his lap, smirking at him just like this. Maybe a few times.
Caleb is the picture of need beneath him and it's a heady thing to know that this man is placing his relief, his pleasure, entirely in Yussa's hands. He moves slowly and presses a hand to Caleb's chest, where he leans his weight. The other reaches down, to guide his straining cock into him. There is no need to make him wait any longer, nor is there any need to deny himself this pleasure.
Yussa sinks down and he cannot quite help the sound in the back of his throat as Caleb fills him. His other hand joins the first on Caleb's chest for balance and support as he sinks down. He is wet and hot, slick with the excesses of his own arousal thanks to Caleb's skillful ministrations. Even if he feels a stretch, there is very little resistance to the penetration.
"Oh, gods--" His voice is tight and his thighs tremble until he has taken Caleb entirely: he can feel the wrapped fabric and knot against his cunt. For a moment he stays as he is, allowing himself to recover a bit from taking his lover all in one go. He whispers something else in Elvish and finally moves just to circle his hips, barely lifting up in favor of grinding against the man beneath him.
"Is that better?" he manages, attempting to sound far more together than he feels. "You feel as good as I remember, Caleb Widogast. Perhaps better, as it was only memory."
There, a smile flickers across his face. Yussa moves his hands from Caleb's chest in favor of bracing himself against the chaise. He trusts the strong hands gripping his thighs and his hip to keep him from losing his balance. He likes the way Caleb holds him, he has from the very beginning.
For all the anticipation, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to for Yussa to brace a hand against his chest, lift his hips, and guide Caleb into himself. The first breach into Yussa's warmth has him gasping. The older man doesn't wait, pushing down in a controlled drop, all one fluid motion. His thighs tremble under Caleb's hands until he's seated fully, having taken Caleb's cock inside him to the root.
As he takes a moment to adjust to his fullness, Caleb tries to scrape something of a coherent notion together, looking at Yussa with a kind of delirious reverence. When he circles his hips, grinding Caleb's heavy cock against the soft slickness of his walls, Caleb whimpers, the pleasure intense enough to make him shake.
He is breathing hard as Yussa murmurs to him, an almost benevolent condescension in his question and the warm, genuine praise that follows. It's absurdly hot, scattering Caleb's thoughts like ash in the wind. His hands tremble against Yussa's skin as they slide from his thighs up to the slight flare of his slim hips. Yussa is all he can think about; there is not enough space in his mind for anything else to break through when this man's presence is so all-encompassing. It's beyond anything he could have hoped for from tonight.
"Yussa," Caleb breathes, scrambling to produce an answer. He feels sluggish in the best way, molten heat filling his veins and coiling in his gut. "It's so good. Gods, you feel so good, I can't--please don't stop."
"You can," he murmurs, warm and affectionate. "For me, you can. You will."
He doesn't say it to be cruel, buy to motivate.
"Can you move?" It is a question of both logistics - is it possible in the position they find themselves or on this chaise - and of ability: if it is possible, is Caleb capable? Yussa isn't worried about the immediate present, but given his own body's reaction and the chance that he may come again before Caleb, it is the near future that concerns him. How long can he keep this up if Caleb decides he is intent on bringing him off again?
Yussa circles his hips again, giving them both the pleasure of slick friction and the flutter of tension without lifting up at all. Soon enough, he leans forward more and puts more weight on his arms. Thar allows him to lift his hips and sink down again without staying upright.
Yussa's immediate insistence--for me--pulls a gasp and a surprised shudder from Caleb. It's difficult to think or move or speak right now, to do anything other than feel, but Yussa has expectations of him that he needs to meet. He can't disappoint him.
"Ja," he says again, even if he isn't entirely certain how much or how well he can move. When Yussa grinds down on him again, Caleb does question for a moment how far sheer will and a desire to please can actually take him. The pulsing squeeze of his cunt feels painfully good, pulling pleasure from somewhere rooted deeply in his body. The friction when he raises and drops his hips is even more intense. Caleb moans, fingers splaying wide and then tightening their grip as a shock of sensation shoots along his spine. His hips buck up of their own accord, sharp and artless, but the seal is broken. His limbs aren't entirely useless. He can move.
With some effort, he raises his knees, the soles of his feet dragging against the soft chaise. The tension hasn't faded from his body at all; his cock jerks against the clinging walls of Yussa's cunt, and Caleb realizes, light-headed, that he might have come just then if it weren't for the makeshift ring choking off his cock. Gods.
"How do you--ah, how do you want me?" He manages to ask, the gravel in his voice palpable even when he speaks so softly.
All of the composure that Yussa has managed evaporates entirely when Caleb's hips lift beneath him. A soft, startled moan escapes and Yussa pushes down as hard as he can just to feel his lover grind up against his cunt.
The older wizard doesn't offer a real answer right away, too busy trying to chase that feeling: the knot he's tied in the makeshift cockring pushes against him, giving an extra sensation and firm bump for him to try to rub against. It isn't big. But it isn't nothing, either.
"Don't stop," he gasps out, voice heavier and more urgent now that he's felt that jolt of eager response. Slick walls tighten around the throbbing cock buried inside him and all Yussa can think for the moment is that he doesn't want that to stop. Perhaps it isn't the most helpful answer, but neither is it deeply vague.
Yussa leans into the chaise as he fucks himself like that, all while trying to keep the angle of his hips just so.
"Like this, sweet boy. Harder."
Even as he says it, one hand moves to tangle in Caleb's hair. Yussa holds tighter than he means to as he shifts over Caleb, soon making his next demand clearer: a firm nipple brushes Caleb's lips. He wants to he touched everywhere.
It is a relief that Yussa doesn't ask him to do anything more complicated. He is a little too desperate to focus on coordination, but he can manage more of the same easy, instinctive movements. Now that he's started, he doesn't want to stop either. Yussa sinks down, and braced against the chaise, Caleb arches up to meet him.
He gives a soft, ragged groan in response to Yussa's breathless encouragement and the hand twisting into his hair. His chin tips up, and his next eager noise is muffled as his lips part to pull the stiff nipple he is being offered into his mouth. Gripping Yussa tight around his narrow waist, he snaps his hips up, seating himself again as Yussa's walls clench around him.
Falling into a rhythm together lets Caleb push up into him hard when they meet in the middle. The ache low in his body persists, centered on his cock. The slick tight pressure of Yussa's cunt feels almost too good, overwhelming, pleasure building without the possibility of a peak. He can't stop seeking more, yet it is maddening. Nosing against the softness of Yussa's pert breast and sucking greedily at his nipple is a much-needed distraction.
Yussa wraps his arm around Caleb's head, cradling it as the younger man's mouth closes around his nipple in a firm suck. His breathing is ragged as Caleb's hips snap up and they find a rhythm together.
By necessity in this position, their movements are short and deep. Yussa rocks his hips to meet every upward thrust. Another jolt of pleasure ruses through him as Caleb's tongue and teeth drag over tender skin, as he sucks and moans against his skin. It feels hard enough to bruise, and Yussa finding himself hoping that it will.
He stretches his back, arching to change the angle of his hips so that he can feel the knot of fabric rubbing against him with every thrust. He tries to grind against Caleb every time their bodies meet. He was not anticipating this makeshift toy to add so much to the experience, but gods--they may need to try this again.
He can feel his pleasure mounting, the tension in him coiling tight. Caleb's desperation is catching, or perhaps it's just the heady feeling of having such a capable man devoted to him, devouring him however Yussa will allow. This is the culmination of desires that have been kept at bay since the first time, months ago.
Yussa can feel the strain in his thighs and low in his belly and his back; his arms tremble as his rhythm breaks. He cries out as he bears down around Caleb's cock; rather than trying to lift himself, he grinds down as hard as he can, rocking on Caleb's lap until he feels the tension break. He comes with another low moan and a wave of tension, still clinging to Caleb's head and the cushion of the chaise.
The way they move together is a little too frantic to be graceful, but it is passionate and intense and consuming. Yussa rides him with increasing fervor, and Caleb endeavors to meet him in kind. Though there is building pleasure, there is no climax to offer relief, and frustration sharpens the need he feels to a deep, throbbing ache.
Kissing his way across Yussa's chest to his other breast, Caleb feels the other man's pace falter, and a moment later he tightens with a cry. Caleb groans against his skin, low and anguished. He feels beside himself with the intensity of conflicting sensation. It's so good, but so much; his arms instinctively circle Yussa's waist to hold him down against his lap, his cock hot and full where it is buried to the root inside him. Gods, he wants to come. He would have come by now, had he not insisted on denying himself. But there is no regret. He would do it again. It's driving him mad, but it's strangely gratifying too, giving up control over his own release completely so that he can be better, more useful, for Yussa.
Lifting his head, Caleb clumsily seeks out his lover's mouth for a kiss, a slightly off-center press of lips as hard as it is brief. He falls back after, head hitting the soft cushion behind him as he takes a ragged breath. That Yussa worked himself to a third orgasm so quickly is a little unexpected, but flattering. After getting him stretched enough to take his cock, Caleb imagined he would want to enjoy it for a bit--or perhaps he still will. There is nothing stopping him.
Caleb considers begging only briefly. As much as he wants to come, he wants Yussa's approval even more. When Yussa calls him sweet, he wants to know that he's earned it. A sweet boy wouldn't put his own needs ahead of his lover's. He would dedicate himself to his lover's pleasure, and not complain.
Still, there is no hiding the tremor in his thighs that goes along with the heavy pulse of his cock and the tight ache in his balls. Even when he tries to will himself to relax, every muscle in his body still feels tense. His face hides nothing, bare and open. Caleb has been stripped of everything but complete honesty, raw and intense in his lust-dark eyes, the twist of his brow, his red and panting mouth.
Yussa can feel the fine tremor in the taut body beneath him: Caleb is being held at bay by a strip of fabric, and he is quite certain that it is already taking a toll. He slows his movements, once again lazily grinding against Caleb's lap rather than lifting up at all. He tips his head down to meet the uncoordinated kiss, enjoying it for what it is before Caleb's head falls back.
His fingers stroke through his lover's hair, damp now at the roots from sweat. He leans down to kiss Caleb again, indulging himself in making sure that Caleb is breathless. When they break apart, Yussa rests more of his weight on the younger wizard, enjoying the skinship and the more subtle pleasure of feeling his cock buried deep. It's intoxicating to see Caleb so open, and Yussa realizes that he likes very much being at the center of his need and desire.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs. "How can I reward such dedication?"
To make his point, Yussa shifts enough to give a firm rock of his hips. His cunt still throbs around Caleb's cock as he winds down from the height of his pleasure, but clearly he is not finished.
With Yussa continuing to grind down against him, languidly making the most of the pleasure lingering after his peak, Caleb is easy to make breathless. He returns the kiss with restless eagerness, demonstrating how badly he needs this and how wrecked he is already. The soft squeezing of Yussa's cunt around his length is a torturous pleasure.
He needs to take a moment to collect himself enough to respond to Yussa's question, clutching at the older man's waist and gazing up at him with a gaze made foggy by prolonged overstimulation, fucked to the edge of orgasm and kept there indefinitely. Being asked what he wants is a question with too many answers. Right now, he focuses on what is most immediate in his mind.
"I want to finish inside you," he admits softly, accent thick and grating in his throat. Over the last few months, he's thought often of that very thing, returning to his memory again and again. "But I--I want you to decide when. I can wait."
Currently, he has no choice but to wait. Which is exactly what he wants--that lack of choice. He'll get his reward when he deserves it--when Yussa is done with him.
Yussa smiles beatifically as he pushes himself up more. His hands press to the chaise on either side of Caleb's head as he circles his hips, quite enjoying the gentle friction of it and the firm rub of the knot of fabric against his clit. That earns another flutter of tension deep inside him.
"Are you intent on burning tonight into my memory as well?" he murmurs, voice warm and heavy as he works up to moving more. He feels sensitive, but he's not yet past the point of finding pleasure in it. He luxuriates in the way the younger man's hands feel on his waist, the familiar callouses and the difference in size. Yussa knows that he is petite, but it rarely enters his mind as more than a passing thought outside moments like this. He is not often touched. And yet Caleb has touched him everywhere.
"Will you bring this dream with you when you leave?"
Caleb's eyelids flutter as Yussa throbs around him, but he tries to keep them open, because Yussa looks absolutely gorgeous. Confident and pleased--with himself, with Caleb--as his hips roll with gradually increasing intent, he is a vision from Caleb's dreams already. Between his smile and his gentle murmur, his bare skin in the warmly shadowed lamplight, and how his own hands look on Yussa's body, Caleb almost wishes this didn't have to end. He doesn't yet want to consider a space beyond this one--a world where he isn't in Yussa's hands, where the choices are all his.
"I hope to," he murmurs in return, a hushed husk that answers both questions. "I will carry it with me no matter what. But it would seem, ah--a little more real, maybe, if I knew you might be thinking back on it, too."
In the greater context of his life, this interlude and the previous one might as well be a dream. If it could be a shared one, at least, that would be good enough for him.
His fingers press into Yussa's narrow waist. He uses that hold to steady them both as he begins to lift his own hips again with just enough force to aid Yussa's movement and bury his cock deep when he sinks down. He notices how he shifts, the way he angles his hips to find the knot of fabric keeping his own orgasm at bay and press it against his clit. There is something about the effortless (and perhaps unintentional) greed of that in particular that Caleb finds irresistibly sexy. He doesn't mind being disregarded in this way. Yussa should take all the pleasure from it he can.
"I do not think you have to worry," he murmurs. "My memory is long... and vivid." And he will most certainly think of this moment after they part.
Yussa's breath catches when Caleb's hips push up to meet him. He doesn't think the younger man means it as a hint, but he cannot help but take it as a suggestion, or a plea. And he is not unkind. Usually.
He adjusts his position, moving his hands to press them to Caleb's chest, just to feel him shift and flex beneath him. Yussa begins moving with more purpose, fucking himself and meeting every thrust of Caleb's hips - encouraging him with soft, breathless praise. His eyes nearly close and every few strokes he grinds down as best he can manage, giving himself a little jolt from the pressure. He's quite glad Caleb's hands are firm on his sides, as he isn't sure he could handle the more nuanced pressure clever fingers could give. No, this is perfect.
Caleb is flushed and beautiful beneath him, straining under the pleasure being given, and even more under that which is being denied. Yussa draws it out, directing the pace enough that Caleb isn't allowed to get used to one thing or another.
At some point Yussa whispers a few ragged words and one hand moves enough to make a gesture. He sinks down hard on top of Caleb, then makes himself lift again with trembling thighs, enough that cool, spectral fingers can brush against the first few inches at the base of Caleb's cock. His golden eyes are intent, despite the burning blush in his cheeks and chest.
"I will untie it," he murmurs. "But only if you can endure allowing me to finish, even if you have already come."
Because Yussa will take pleasure in it regardless, and it is up to Caleb whether he wants to ride it out with the fabric tied tight around him, or if he's willing to risk enduring the oversensitivity that may follow as Yussa finishes himself. He isn't asking Caleb to decide, really. He only wants to know what the younger wizard is willing to experience - in the end, Yussa wants them both to enjoy this, and setting up Caleb to fail is not something he takes pleasure in.
Yussa can be a demanding lover. Thankfully, that is exactly what Caleb likes. There is no growing complacent, no distracting himself from his own persistent need with a consistent pace. Yussa leads him in an unpredictable dance with a rhythm determined solely by his own pleasure, and Caleb can only follow.
Rather than pulling his focus elsewhere, it makes him hyperaware of his aching arousal. His pleasure spikes again and again, his body straining futilely toward a peak he can't reach. Each time is the same. As the tension rises, he fucks up into Yussa faster and harder, each breath an audible gasp--but the tension never breaks. Something stops him just short, just on the edge of tipping over, and he groans with frustration, hands squeezing uselessly at Yussa's waist.
He has been edged before, but never like this. Usually when he is close, the stimulation stops completely so he can cool off. But Yussa doesn't relent, and the tension in Caleb's body is never given the chance to fade. He's kept right there on that teetering edge, and it ruins him. By the time Yussa finally pauses to summon his mage hand, Caleb is a mess beneath him--red, panting, and glassy-eyed, hair fanned out and disheveled, muscles taut and trembling. His constrained cock throbs and throbs against the slick walls surrounding it, the pleasure of that tight heat almost unbearable. The cool brush of arcane fingers where he is sore and sensitive makes him whimper.
"Bitte," he whispers, desperate to find his release now that Yussa is offering it, even if it means oversensitivity of another sort. Yussa has decided he's done enough to earn this. He's very willing to endure what comes after. "I can," he insists breathlessly, "I can."
Caleb lifts his head to press scattered, imploring kisses down the column of Yussa's neck, his breath hot and ragged.
"Then you will, sweet boy," he murmurs as Caleb's mouth presses to his neck with pleading, ragged kisses. His fingers stroke into his lover's coppery hair, holding his head for just a moment. Yussa focuses on the spectral hand to direct it; nimble fingers tug at the knot he's made, tied carefully to ensure it will be easy to release. And it is. As soon as the knot pops free, the hand easily unwinds the fabric and lets it drop; it vanishes as Yussa sinks down again, taking Caleb to the hilt as both reward and permission.
Seeing his lover so undone beneath him is inspiring - Yussa will revisit this exercise again, perhaps when they can secure more time alone without chance of interruption. He finds himself quite interested in finding out exactly what Caleb is capable of. Until then...
"Do not hold back, Caleb Widogast," he murmurs, voice low as his lips brush Caleb's ear. "I expect your best, always."
And he has no doubt that he will get it, even if Caleb is shaking on the edge of control. Yussa pushes himself up again for the sake of balance, quite intent on riding out whatever Caleb has left to give. He keeps his gaze on his lover as he starts to move again, still taking his own pleasure even as he finally invites Caleb to chase his own. His hair has come loose from its careful styling and a few pale strands cling to Yussa's flushed face; he is finally sweating with the effort, a faint sheen on his warm skin made evident by the lantern lights.
Yussa has managed to avoid getting too sensitive in drawing this out, and he's quite certain he can get off again, but he will not make Caleb wait for it. Not when Yussa wans to see him undone in every way possible.
With a cool brush of the mage hand's fingers against the base of his blood-hot cock, the fabric comes loose, and the restrictive pressure that has kept Caleb pent-up and aching is suddenly gone. That alone is enough of a release to make him dizzy, stomach clenching with a twist of pure, hot pleasure as Yussa sinks down to take the full length of him again. The noise he makes is low and guttural, and he chokes out a Zemnian curse when Yussa's lips brush his ear, his voice soft and velvety.
For Yussa, he can do nothing less than his best. Holding back is no longer an option, anyway.
As Yussa begins to move again, the sensation is a new sort of overwhelming. There is a heady tug low in his gut, and the prevalent ache in his balls begins to melt into something urgent and promising. He needs more, and he rocks up as Yussa drops down to seek it.
Though the intensity of his own pleasure is distracting now that it is not longer limited, he can't take his eyes off Yussa. He's sweating and disheveled and absolutely beautiful as he rolls his hips with a lazy grace. Caleb loves the hand braced on his chest for balance, elegant brown fingers splayed over sweat-damp pale skin and dark red hair. Framed between his slender legs, the thick red swell of his cock spreading his flushed folds makes a pretty picture. It's mesmerizing to watch it disappear inside him and reappear glistening with Yussa's pleasure.
The tension that has built and failed to resolve so many times builds again twice as fast and twice as hard. Caleb's hands slide from Yussa's waist down to his hips, flexing and taking a firmer hold to pull him down more forcefully into his lap. His breath catches on a raspy mutter in Zemnian. Gods, he feels good, slick and soft and fluttering sweetly, pulling him deep into his heat.
"Yussa," he gasps, and he hadn't expected to last at all, and surely Yussa hadn't expected him to either, but as he bucks up into him and that tension finally, finally snaps, the strength of it startles him. Holding Yussa down against him, his eyes close and he whites out for several moments that feel much longer than they should. His body shudders with long-denied release, intensified by every time he's been deprived. He's never come so hard in his life, which he'll reflect on later, when he isn't blissed-out and spilling deep into Yussa's cunt with a rough, relieved groan.
Yussa can't help a heavy moan as Caleb yanks his hips down to meet a hard upward thrust. He expected the unleashed need, but the reality of it is far more intense. He cedes to Caleb's urgency then, allowing his lover to dictate their pace and intensity, finding it easier to go with it than try to assert himself here. He's close, not enough to come before Caleb does, of that he's certain - there's no way the other man can hold out long after that - but if he works it right, he shouldn't be very far behind.
He's panting hard by the time Caleb holds him down, burying deep inside him as his cock throbs. His back arches, but he stays right where he is, moving as much as he can - subtly - in Caleb's grip. Yussa's thighs tremble and his fingers curl against Caleb's chest, manicured nails scraping against his flushed skin. He struggles to catch his breath, momentarily dazed in Caleb's lap as his lover rides out his orgasm after so long being denied.
Yussa starts to move again as soon as Caleb's grip weakens enough, slow at first but soon finding a pace that works for him. Caleb's cock won't immediately go soft, and so he has to make the best of the time he has. So Yussa focuses on his own pleasure again. An unsteady hand grabs one of Caleb's to drag it from his hip, guiding it between his legs. He just needs a bit more help. His cunt throbs around Caleb and tension rolls through him as he chases that rising peak.
His brows pinch together, and he might look distressed if not for the renewed urgency with which he moves. It's the frustration of being close, caught on a plateau, and wanting to finish.
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It's nice to know that he can still find novelty at his age. Yussa shifts subtly as Caleb strokes along his slit, parting wet folds with his fingers and knuckles as he gathers some of the copious wetness there. It's easy enough to keep the conversation going, at least on Yussa's end. He is very aware of Caleb's hard cock and the faint sheen of precome that's smeared on his skin where the flushed head has brushed against his stomach.
There's only a soft catch in his breath as the first finger slides back into him without any resistance. Yussa kisses Caleb again and his manicured nails drag against Caleb's beard when he feels the second finger teasing and rubbing against him. Yussa tips his hips, trying to encourage the extra penetration. After two orgasms so close together, he's sure he can manage it.
"Go on," he murmurs when they part, just in case Caleb needs the extra affirmation. He wants to feel the stretch, to know that he is that much closer to having Caleb's cock again after months of passing memories.
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He likes very much the way Yussa scratches through his beard as they kiss, so he encourages it with soft noises lost against Yussa's lips. The first time they were together, he was taken by the way Yussa kisses him, and that has not changed. It feels like Yussa is seeking something from him with every kiss, and Caleb is happy to give and give, his mouth already sensitive and well used. He sweeps his tongue past Yussa's lips as his fingers slot deep into his cunt; he curls them up as he drags them out again, and pulls back for a sharp breath.
"You feel good," he whispers hoarsely, close enough still to feel Yussa's breath on his lips. "I thought of this often. I hoped that I was not the only one."
Gods, it feels like it has been longer than a few months. He has changed in that time. How is it that he can stagnate for decades and then change enough for a lifetime in a single year? The man he was when they first fucked was a far cry from who he was when they met, and he has grown more still since then. He wonders what Yussa sees when he looks at him. He wonders what it is about Caleb Widogast that intrigues him.
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When they part, Yussa's breath comes quicker as the slow caresses coax him deeper into arousal. A smile appears and he gives Caleb a lighter kiss.
"No, you were not alone in indulging those memories." It does feel like it has been much longer, even for Yussa. He kisses Caleb again, and again, catching his bottom lip in a gentle bite and suck on his lower lip.
"You have grown since then," he murmurs. "And much more since the day we met. I am gratified to see the potential I saw then come to bear."
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"Well," Caleb murmurs, somehow bashful as he continues to stretch Yussa on his fingers, "you have had a part in that yourself."
He becomes very aware of how sore his lips are when he smiles. It's an ache that goes straight to his cock. Yussa's sharper kisses have left his already used mouth raw and stinging, and he can't get enough of it.
Holding Yussa against him this way feels good; exciting, and somehow comforting. The almost casual skinship is an intimacy he hadn't dared the last time, but it is remarkably natural now. Their bodies fit together well, they can easily talk and kiss, and Caleb can indulgently watch his fingers sliding slickly in and out of his cunt. The warm flickering lanternlight and the view of the city and the sea far below lend the space an almost surreal quality, adding to the pleasant haze already enveloping his mind.
After making him come twice, Yussa's state of languid relaxation is not only attractive, but heady, knowing that he is responsible. Encouraged by his soft sounds of pleasure and the occasional squeeze of his cunt, Caleb doesn't wait long to start working a third finger into him. Though he took two more easily than Caleb had anticipated, he can feel right away how the addition of a third is a challenge. Yussa is a petite man, and the way his entrance slowly stretches around three of Caleb's long human-sized fingers looks thrillingly obscene.
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Yussa shifts, trying to adjust his position to spread his legs more without interrupting Caleb's fingers as they stroke into him, and without sacrificing the comfort of their embrace. But he also wants to at least attempt to make it easier for Caleb to ease a third finger into him, knowing he will need it before taking his lover's cock. Pale lashes flutter as his body yields to the penetration, but he feels the stretch.
He wets his lips, and for a moment all he can do is breathe as Caleb coaxes him to relax further. He tips his head toward Caleb, nuzzling against him as the slide of his lover's fingers becomes easier. Caleb's hands are strong and dexterous, and Yussa finds himself quite enamored with how well he can use them. It should be expected in a wizard... though Yussa has found that is not always the rule.
"Ah--" His breath hiccups when Caleb's fingers move just so. He feels a blush warming his face and he is very aware of how it must look as Caleb works him open. Yussa coaxes Caleb into another kiss, edged with heat this time as his fingers push deep. He breaks it a moment later, just enough to speak.
"The next time I come, it will be on your cock."
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The gradual yielding as his body accepts Caleb's fingers seems to renew Yussa's desire, the comfortable plateau of arousal post-orgasm finally spiking again. Caleb kisses him eagerly. The difference between this and the lazy making out they've been doing is palpable--and promising. Pride fills his chest with warmth. Though he has only been doing as asked, it pleases him to see clear evidence that Yussa is enjoying this. Enjoying him.
The burn of his own need has faded and flared intermittently, depending on his own focus. When Yussa speaks, the throb of his neglected erection against his thigh makes Caleb more aware of himself, of how he craves fulfillment, than he's been since this started.
"Gods, please," he whispers, choked.
He wants to roll fully onto his back and offer himself again like a tool to be used for precisely that purpose. He wants to feel the slick, tight channel squeezing around his slowly rocking fingers envelop his aching cock. The mere thought is almost too much. He's never been able to come untouched, but he is fairly certain that it won't take much to have him spilling over tonight. Which just isn't acceptable at all. There must be some preventative measure to take.
"Do you have some way to, ah...keep me going until you are satisfied?" His face is hot with a unique combination of embarrassment and arousal, but asking is far preferable to disappointing his lover with a lack of stamina. Yussa must understand, surely. He's been hard with barely a touch for some time tonight, which would be challenging even for a man who has sex far more often than Caleb. An idea flashes suddenly into his mind, and tumbles straight out from his lips. "My--my hair tie, perhaps--"
Secured firmly enough around the base of his cock, the strip of leather he uses to pull his hair back would serve that purpose. If only he knew where it disappeared to after Yussa slid it loose.
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"I think I can manage something," he murmurs, accent heavy. He gives Caleb another kiss, then reluctantly reaches down to gently push his lover's fingers out of him. He has no idea where Caleb's hair tie has gone, but that's not the only possibility at their disposal.
Once he's free, Yussa gets up on unsteady legs. Once he has his balance, Yussa moves with the same effortless grace and authority he carries when he is fully dressed. He goes to his clothes, all neatly set aside where Caleb left them. Nimble fingers explore the pile of fabric until he finds what he wants. He returns with a strip of gold fabric - a small piece used to secure one layer to another to ensure there is no sliding or slipping. It is maybe six or seven inches long.
"Stay still," he says as he returns and sits on the chaise. "A leather thong would be acceptable, but I think this is better."
And because it is too tempting to resist, Yussa gives Caleb a single stroke, just to feel the firm heat of him, before he sets to wrapping the base of his cock. His gaze flicks back up to the younger man.
"Tell me when it's tight enough." He's unyielding in that command, though still gentle in its delivery. He goes by Caleb's word, using some of his own experience to supplement. Then he ties the fabric, satisfied that it will serve its purpose. With that accomplished, his hand slips lower to gently hold and caress Caleb's balls. It's only a moment of indulgence before he lets go again.
Yussa moves to straddle Caleb's lap, golden eyes intent.
"I'll have to keep this in mind on your next visit so I am properly prepared," he says with a smirk.
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Though he pumps his fist up his length only once, indulgently, Caleb's hands scrabble at the velvety surface of the chaise and his head falls back, a groan wrenched from his exposed throat. He's glad he'd had the foresight to know how wrecked he would be by even a little touch. From the way his cock throbs as Yussa goes on to tie the gold fabric around the base, it's plain that much more of that attention would have taken him apart completely.
Breathlessly, he speaks up when the fabric pinches just tight enough to feel prohibitive, but not uncomfortable. Not beyond the ache of sustained arousal, at least, which he feels in built-up tension from his abs all the way down to his thighs. Yussa's teasing rub over his balls, already tight and sore, brings a sharp awareness to that heavy, sweetly pulsing pain. He doesn't quite bite back a harsh hiss of air through his teeth. By the time Yussa swings a leg over his lap, Caleb's breathing is ragged, his brow knit up over dazed blue eyes that rake with desperate hunger over his slender body.
"Ja, that is...that would be good," he agrees. His voice is a distant croak to his own ears as his focus is pulled so sharply to Yussa, lingering between his legs on his gorgeous dark folds and swollen clit, both glistening wetly. The nearness of that slick heat to his straining, blood-hot cock--growing fuller redder still with this new restriction--walks the line between tantalizing and torturous.
But he must be good. He must show Yussa he can wait patiently for his reward. Caleb's teeth scrape over his already swollen lower lip, and his hands find the other man's thighs, gripping restlessly but undemandingly at the warm, smooth skin. Caleb is pretty fucking sure he's had this dream before: Yussa perched over his lap, smirking at him just like this. Maybe a few times.
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Yussa sinks down and he cannot quite help the sound in the back of his throat as Caleb fills him. His other hand joins the first on Caleb's chest for balance and support as he sinks down. He is wet and hot, slick with the excesses of his own arousal thanks to Caleb's skillful ministrations. Even if he feels a stretch, there is very little resistance to the penetration.
"Oh, gods--" His voice is tight and his thighs tremble until he has taken Caleb entirely: he can feel the wrapped fabric and knot against his cunt. For a moment he stays as he is, allowing himself to recover a bit from taking his lover all in one go. He whispers something else in Elvish and finally moves just to circle his hips, barely lifting up in favor of grinding against the man beneath him.
"Is that better?" he manages, attempting to sound far more together than he feels. "You feel as good as I remember, Caleb Widogast. Perhaps better, as it was only memory."
There, a smile flickers across his face. Yussa moves his hands from Caleb's chest in favor of bracing himself against the chaise. He trusts the strong hands gripping his thighs and his hip to keep him from losing his balance. He likes the way Caleb holds him, he has from the very beginning.
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As he takes a moment to adjust to his fullness, Caleb tries to scrape something of a coherent notion together, looking at Yussa with a kind of delirious reverence. When he circles his hips, grinding Caleb's heavy cock against the soft slickness of his walls, Caleb whimpers, the pleasure intense enough to make him shake.
He is breathing hard as Yussa murmurs to him, an almost benevolent condescension in his question and the warm, genuine praise that follows. It's absurdly hot, scattering Caleb's thoughts like ash in the wind. His hands tremble against Yussa's skin as they slide from his thighs up to the slight flare of his slim hips. Yussa is all he can think about; there is not enough space in his mind for anything else to break through when this man's presence is so all-encompassing. It's beyond anything he could have hoped for from tonight.
"Yussa," Caleb breathes, scrambling to produce an answer. He feels sluggish in the best way, molten heat filling his veins and coiling in his gut. "It's so good. Gods, you feel so good, I can't--please don't stop."
That's his best, at the moment.
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He doesn't say it to be cruel, buy to motivate.
"Can you move?" It is a question of both logistics - is it possible in the position they find themselves or on this chaise - and of ability: if it is possible, is Caleb capable? Yussa isn't worried about the immediate present, but given his own body's reaction and the chance that he may come again before Caleb, it is the near future that concerns him. How long can he keep this up if Caleb decides he is intent on bringing him off again?
Yussa circles his hips again, giving them both the pleasure of slick friction and the flutter of tension without lifting up at all. Soon enough, he leans forward more and puts more weight on his arms. Thar allows him to lift his hips and sink down again without staying upright.
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"Ja," he says again, even if he isn't entirely certain how much or how well he can move. When Yussa grinds down on him again, Caleb does question for a moment how far sheer will and a desire to please can actually take him. The pulsing squeeze of his cunt feels painfully good, pulling pleasure from somewhere rooted deeply in his body. The friction when he raises and drops his hips is even more intense. Caleb moans, fingers splaying wide and then tightening their grip as a shock of sensation shoots along his spine. His hips buck up of their own accord, sharp and artless, but the seal is broken. His limbs aren't entirely useless. He can move.
With some effort, he raises his knees, the soles of his feet dragging against the soft chaise. The tension hasn't faded from his body at all; his cock jerks against the clinging walls of Yussa's cunt, and Caleb realizes, light-headed, that he might have come just then if it weren't for the makeshift ring choking off his cock. Gods.
"How do you--ah, how do you want me?" He manages to ask, the gravel in his voice palpable even when he speaks so softly.
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The older wizard doesn't offer a real answer right away, too busy trying to chase that feeling: the knot he's tied in the makeshift cockring pushes against him, giving an extra sensation and firm bump for him to try to rub against. It isn't big. But it isn't nothing, either.
"Don't stop," he gasps out, voice heavier and more urgent now that he's felt that jolt of eager response. Slick walls tighten around the throbbing cock buried inside him and all Yussa can think for the moment is that he doesn't want that to stop. Perhaps it isn't the most helpful answer, but neither is it deeply vague.
Yussa leans into the chaise as he fucks himself like that, all while trying to keep the angle of his hips just so.
"Like this, sweet boy. Harder."
Even as he says it, one hand moves to tangle in Caleb's hair. Yussa holds tighter than he means to as he shifts over Caleb, soon making his next demand clearer: a firm nipple brushes Caleb's lips. He wants to he touched everywhere.
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He gives a soft, ragged groan in response to Yussa's breathless encouragement and the hand twisting into his hair. His chin tips up, and his next eager noise is muffled as his lips part to pull the stiff nipple he is being offered into his mouth. Gripping Yussa tight around his narrow waist, he snaps his hips up, seating himself again as Yussa's walls clench around him.
Falling into a rhythm together lets Caleb push up into him hard when they meet in the middle. The ache low in his body persists, centered on his cock. The slick tight pressure of Yussa's cunt feels almost too good, overwhelming, pleasure building without the possibility of a peak. He can't stop seeking more, yet it is maddening. Nosing against the softness of Yussa's pert breast and sucking greedily at his nipple is a much-needed distraction.
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By necessity in this position, their movements are short and deep. Yussa rocks his hips to meet every upward thrust. Another jolt of pleasure ruses through him as Caleb's tongue and teeth drag over tender skin, as he sucks and moans against his skin. It feels hard enough to bruise, and Yussa finding himself hoping that it will.
He stretches his back, arching to change the angle of his hips so that he can feel the knot of fabric rubbing against him with every thrust. He tries to grind against Caleb every time their bodies meet. He was not anticipating this makeshift toy to add so much to the experience, but gods--they may need to try this again.
He can feel his pleasure mounting, the tension in him coiling tight. Caleb's desperation is catching, or perhaps it's just the heady feeling of having such a capable man devoted to him, devouring him however Yussa will allow. This is the culmination of desires that have been kept at bay since the first time, months ago.
Yussa can feel the strain in his thighs and low in his belly and his back; his arms tremble as his rhythm breaks. He cries out as he bears down around Caleb's cock; rather than trying to lift himself, he grinds down as hard as he can, rocking on Caleb's lap until he feels the tension break. He comes with another low moan and a wave of tension, still clinging to Caleb's head and the cushion of the chaise.
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Kissing his way across Yussa's chest to his other breast, Caleb feels the other man's pace falter, and a moment later he tightens with a cry. Caleb groans against his skin, low and anguished. He feels beside himself with the intensity of conflicting sensation. It's so good, but so much; his arms instinctively circle Yussa's waist to hold him down against his lap, his cock hot and full where it is buried to the root inside him. Gods, he wants to come. He would have come by now, had he not insisted on denying himself. But there is no regret. He would do it again. It's driving him mad, but it's strangely gratifying too, giving up control over his own release completely so that he can be better, more useful, for Yussa.
Lifting his head, Caleb clumsily seeks out his lover's mouth for a kiss, a slightly off-center press of lips as hard as it is brief. He falls back after, head hitting the soft cushion behind him as he takes a ragged breath. That Yussa worked himself to a third orgasm so quickly is a little unexpected, but flattering. After getting him stretched enough to take his cock, Caleb imagined he would want to enjoy it for a bit--or perhaps he still will. There is nothing stopping him.
Caleb considers begging only briefly. As much as he wants to come, he wants Yussa's approval even more. When Yussa calls him sweet, he wants to know that he's earned it. A sweet boy wouldn't put his own needs ahead of his lover's. He would dedicate himself to his lover's pleasure, and not complain.
Still, there is no hiding the tremor in his thighs that goes along with the heavy pulse of his cock and the tight ache in his balls. Even when he tries to will himself to relax, every muscle in his body still feels tense. His face hides nothing, bare and open. Caleb has been stripped of everything but complete honesty, raw and intense in his lust-dark eyes, the twist of his brow, his red and panting mouth.
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His fingers stroke through his lover's hair, damp now at the roots from sweat. He leans down to kiss Caleb again, indulging himself in making sure that Caleb is breathless. When they break apart, Yussa rests more of his weight on the younger wizard, enjoying the skinship and the more subtle pleasure of feeling his cock buried deep. It's intoxicating to see Caleb so open, and Yussa realizes that he likes very much being at the center of his need and desire.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs. "How can I reward such dedication?"
To make his point, Yussa shifts enough to give a firm rock of his hips. His cunt still throbs around Caleb's cock as he winds down from the height of his pleasure, but clearly he is not finished.
"What would you ask of me for yourself?"
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He needs to take a moment to collect himself enough to respond to Yussa's question, clutching at the older man's waist and gazing up at him with a gaze made foggy by prolonged overstimulation, fucked to the edge of orgasm and kept there indefinitely. Being asked what he wants is a question with too many answers. Right now, he focuses on what is most immediate in his mind.
"I want to finish inside you," he admits softly, accent thick and grating in his throat. Over the last few months, he's thought often of that very thing, returning to his memory again and again. "But I--I want you to decide when. I can wait."
Currently, he has no choice but to wait. Which is exactly what he wants--that lack of choice. He'll get his reward when he deserves it--when Yussa is done with him.
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Yussa smiles beatifically as he pushes himself up more. His hands press to the chaise on either side of Caleb's head as he circles his hips, quite enjoying the gentle friction of it and the firm rub of the knot of fabric against his clit. That earns another flutter of tension deep inside him.
"Are you intent on burning tonight into my memory as well?" he murmurs, voice warm and heavy as he works up to moving more. He feels sensitive, but he's not yet past the point of finding pleasure in it. He luxuriates in the way the younger man's hands feel on his waist, the familiar callouses and the difference in size. Yussa knows that he is petite, but it rarely enters his mind as more than a passing thought outside moments like this. He is not often touched. And yet Caleb has touched him everywhere.
"Will you bring this dream with you when you leave?"
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"I hope to," he murmurs in return, a hushed husk that answers both questions. "I will carry it with me no matter what. But it would seem, ah--a little more real, maybe, if I knew you might be thinking back on it, too."
In the greater context of his life, this interlude and the previous one might as well be a dream. If it could be a shared one, at least, that would be good enough for him.
His fingers press into Yussa's narrow waist. He uses that hold to steady them both as he begins to lift his own hips again with just enough force to aid Yussa's movement and bury his cock deep when he sinks down. He notices how he shifts, the way he angles his hips to find the knot of fabric keeping his own orgasm at bay and press it against his clit. There is something about the effortless (and perhaps unintentional) greed of that in particular that Caleb finds irresistibly sexy. He doesn't mind being disregarded in this way. Yussa should take all the pleasure from it he can.
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Yussa's breath catches when Caleb's hips push up to meet him. He doesn't think the younger man means it as a hint, but he cannot help but take it as a suggestion, or a plea. And he is not unkind. Usually.
He adjusts his position, moving his hands to press them to Caleb's chest, just to feel him shift and flex beneath him. Yussa begins moving with more purpose, fucking himself and meeting every thrust of Caleb's hips - encouraging him with soft, breathless praise. His eyes nearly close and every few strokes he grinds down as best he can manage, giving himself a little jolt from the pressure. He's quite glad Caleb's hands are firm on his sides, as he isn't sure he could handle the more nuanced pressure clever fingers could give. No, this is perfect.
Caleb is flushed and beautiful beneath him, straining under the pleasure being given, and even more under that which is being denied. Yussa draws it out, directing the pace enough that Caleb isn't allowed to get used to one thing or another.
At some point Yussa whispers a few ragged words and one hand moves enough to make a gesture. He sinks down hard on top of Caleb, then makes himself lift again with trembling thighs, enough that cool, spectral fingers can brush against the first few inches at the base of Caleb's cock. His golden eyes are intent, despite the burning blush in his cheeks and chest.
"I will untie it," he murmurs. "But only if you can endure allowing me to finish, even if you have already come."
Because Yussa will take pleasure in it regardless, and it is up to Caleb whether he wants to ride it out with the fabric tied tight around him, or if he's willing to risk enduring the oversensitivity that may follow as Yussa finishes himself. He isn't asking Caleb to decide, really. He only wants to know what the younger wizard is willing to experience - in the end, Yussa wants them both to enjoy this, and setting up Caleb to fail is not something he takes pleasure in.
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Rather than pulling his focus elsewhere, it makes him hyperaware of his aching arousal. His pleasure spikes again and again, his body straining futilely toward a peak he can't reach. Each time is the same. As the tension rises, he fucks up into Yussa faster and harder, each breath an audible gasp--but the tension never breaks. Something stops him just short, just on the edge of tipping over, and he groans with frustration, hands squeezing uselessly at Yussa's waist.
He has been edged before, but never like this. Usually when he is close, the stimulation stops completely so he can cool off. But Yussa doesn't relent, and the tension in Caleb's body is never given the chance to fade. He's kept right there on that teetering edge, and it ruins him. By the time Yussa finally pauses to summon his mage hand, Caleb is a mess beneath him--red, panting, and glassy-eyed, hair fanned out and disheveled, muscles taut and trembling. His constrained cock throbs and throbs against the slick walls surrounding it, the pleasure of that tight heat almost unbearable. The cool brush of arcane fingers where he is sore and sensitive makes him whimper.
"Bitte," he whispers, desperate to find his release now that Yussa is offering it, even if it means oversensitivity of another sort. Yussa has decided he's done enough to earn this. He's very willing to endure what comes after. "I can," he insists breathlessly, "I can."
Caleb lifts his head to press scattered, imploring kisses down the column of Yussa's neck, his breath hot and ragged.
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Seeing his lover so undone beneath him is inspiring - Yussa will revisit this exercise again, perhaps when they can secure more time alone without chance of interruption. He finds himself quite interested in finding out exactly what Caleb is capable of. Until then...
"Do not hold back, Caleb Widogast," he murmurs, voice low as his lips brush Caleb's ear. "I expect your best, always."
And he has no doubt that he will get it, even if Caleb is shaking on the edge of control. Yussa pushes himself up again for the sake of balance, quite intent on riding out whatever Caleb has left to give. He keeps his gaze on his lover as he starts to move again, still taking his own pleasure even as he finally invites Caleb to chase his own. His hair has come loose from its careful styling and a few pale strands cling to Yussa's flushed face; he is finally sweating with the effort, a faint sheen on his warm skin made evident by the lantern lights.
Yussa has managed to avoid getting too sensitive in drawing this out, and he's quite certain he can get off again, but he will not make Caleb wait for it. Not when Yussa wans to see him undone in every way possible.
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For Yussa, he can do nothing less than his best. Holding back is no longer an option, anyway.
As Yussa begins to move again, the sensation is a new sort of overwhelming. There is a heady tug low in his gut, and the prevalent ache in his balls begins to melt into something urgent and promising. He needs more, and he rocks up as Yussa drops down to seek it.
Though the intensity of his own pleasure is distracting now that it is not longer limited, he can't take his eyes off Yussa. He's sweating and disheveled and absolutely beautiful as he rolls his hips with a lazy grace. Caleb loves the hand braced on his chest for balance, elegant brown fingers splayed over sweat-damp pale skin and dark red hair. Framed between his slender legs, the thick red swell of his cock spreading his flushed folds makes a pretty picture. It's mesmerizing to watch it disappear inside him and reappear glistening with Yussa's pleasure.
The tension that has built and failed to resolve so many times builds again twice as fast and twice as hard. Caleb's hands slide from Yussa's waist down to his hips, flexing and taking a firmer hold to pull him down more forcefully into his lap. His breath catches on a raspy mutter in Zemnian. Gods, he feels good, slick and soft and fluttering sweetly, pulling him deep into his heat.
"Yussa," he gasps, and he hadn't expected to last at all, and surely Yussa hadn't expected him to either, but as he bucks up into him and that tension finally, finally snaps, the strength of it startles him. Holding Yussa down against him, his eyes close and he whites out for several moments that feel much longer than they should. His body shudders with long-denied release, intensified by every time he's been deprived. He's never come so hard in his life, which he'll reflect on later, when he isn't blissed-out and spilling deep into Yussa's cunt with a rough, relieved groan.
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He's panting hard by the time Caleb holds him down, burying deep inside him as his cock throbs. His back arches, but he stays right where he is, moving as much as he can - subtly - in Caleb's grip. Yussa's thighs tremble and his fingers curl against Caleb's chest, manicured nails scraping against his flushed skin. He struggles to catch his breath, momentarily dazed in Caleb's lap as his lover rides out his orgasm after so long being denied.
Yussa starts to move again as soon as Caleb's grip weakens enough, slow at first but soon finding a pace that works for him. Caleb's cock won't immediately go soft, and so he has to make the best of the time he has. So Yussa focuses on his own pleasure again. An unsteady hand grabs one of Caleb's to drag it from his hip, guiding it between his legs. He just needs a bit more help. His cunt throbs around Caleb and tension rolls through him as he chases that rising peak.
His brows pinch together, and he might look distressed if not for the renewed urgency with which he moves. It's the frustration of being close, caught on a plateau, and wanting to finish.
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