The next time Caleb pulls his fingers out to smack across his cunt, Yussa yelps. It's the kind of helpless sound Caleb has not been privy to before now. He nearly tries to clamp his thighs together as Caleb does it twice more, the wet sound obscene as he slaps the tender, swollen folds and hard clit left exposed to his whims. Yussa's chest is heaving as he pants for breath and he feels lightheaded with the effort. What startles him most is how much it effects him: he feels on the edge again, aching and close. Clearly, he's meant to answer.
Even with that prompting, it takes Yussa a moment to properly find his voice. He manages to focus on Caleb, utterly dazed as the other man's fingers push back into him without any resistance. How easy he's become with his patron's diligent work.
"Please give me your cock," he pleads, voice heavy and strained. His cunt throbs from the firm impact of Caleb's strong, calloused hand and all Yussa can think about is his aching desire to be filled again even as Caleb's fingers fuck his ass. In his need, he offers no specifics - in the end, what happens next is up to Caleb, no matter what.
Though that noise from Yussa's mouth--completely unknown, utterly novel after somewhere near two years of frequently fantastic sex--causes Caleb's heart leaps in his chest with surprise, he manages to keep his reaction mostly internal, apart from his widened eyes and the stutter in his own breath. When Yussa turns his hazy gaze up at him, he schools his expression back to focused intent and genuine interest, eager to hear the words his overwhelmed lover is clearly struggling to produce.
Gods, he is so fucking beautiful. Caleb can't believe how lucky he is to be here with him now--whether after years of earning this man's trust, or months of dedicated work to earn the fifty gold on that table. The lines blur a little in the moment.
The effort to coerce that answer out of him turns out to be utterly worthwhile. The hunger for him that has been growing again steadily over the last hour turns ravenous when Yussa begs for his cock in a voice he can barely scrape together. The hot ache of his erection becomes something he can't ignore, and he is very aware of the tempting, soft heat of Yussa's body around his fingers.
"Oh, schatz," he whispers, the rasp of his voice hushed with adoration, with sympathy. "I will. Very soon," he encourages, "if you will just come for me again. I promised you three."
His fingers slide out and in again, and when his palm claps wetly over the entirety of his sore sex, he rubs with firm, soothing pressure over his cunt, grinding the heel of his hand against his swollen clit and his calloused palm over his sensitive entrance, all the more aware of that emptiness after Yussa pleaded to be filled.
Yussa makes a low, resigned sound that might be misery if not for the way his body tightens around Caleb's fingers. His hips jump as his lover's hand curls to press against his aching, flushed cunt, rubbing and grinding in a way that makes Yussa's head spin. He gives in then, mindlessly chasing the pleasure of that friction and that of Caleb's fingers working in and out of him. This isn't the first time Caleb has reduced him to this, and yet it's still different from all those previous occasions. Perhaps it's because it's under the auspices of this fantasy, the little reality they've created for themselves for the night. Whatever it is, Yussa feels it intensely. He is utterly swept up in his lover's effortless authority, the slight cruel streak that he's never seen this clearly applied to delicious effect.
Another, Caleb says, and Yussa realizes deliriously that they must have been at this for an hour now if his lover says he promised three. With Caleb's insistence, Yussa doesn't resist the rising crest inside him and he shudders beneath the younger man when it crashes. He moans, thighs straining apart as his orgasm rushes through him in waves of tension. Tight walls squeeze around Caleb's fingers and he feels the rhythmic throb of his empty cunt bearing down around nothing. The drag of Caleb's palm over his twitching entrance is the worst tease, but Yussa does not have the wherewithal - or permission - to put his own fingers inside himself.
Yussa lays there, panting and trembling and of half a mind to try to pull away, but he doesn't have the strength for it at the moment. And, more importantly, he is Caleb's. Slowly, his hand goes weak and drops from Caleb's arm and the other releases the tight grip he's had on the blankets beneath them.
Caleb knows he is being a little mean, even beyond the pain-pleasure of the smacks he's rained over Yussa's cunt. Forcing him to come like this, pushing him to a peak with denial as much as stimulation, is hardly the sort of nice, satisfying orgasm he normally enjoys providing, the sort that leaves Yussa sated and smiling. But for this, with the rest of the night ahead of them, he doesn't want to leave Yussa satisfied again just yet. He wants him to come and realize he is still aching. Still empty and desperate to be filled.
Watching and feeling his lover's orgasm shudder through him in a wave of twitching tension has a very similar effect on Caleb, honestly. It's a triumph, an accomplishment that makes him dizzy with the knowledge of his own influence, but he is still aching for more.
"You are incredible," Caleb praises with that same hushed reverence, palm rubbing slowly over his throbbing cunt one last time before he withdraws his hand completely, sliding his slick fingers with savoring slowness from the stretched rim of his ass. He kisses Yussa's brow, beaded with sweat, and with his aching arm, pushes himself up until he is kneeling between Yussa's wide-spread thighs.
He looks fucked-out, his thin chest heaving with panting breaths, his muscles still shaking. Caleb gazes down at him, the dark, unfocused look of his eyes, with a unique appreciation, the sort of pride he's felt upon taking Yussa apart before. But then, usually, they were finished. Tonight they are very much not. Perhaps he should allow a little more rest, more of a reprieve--but Yussa asked for his cock, and he said he'd have it. And Caleb, seized with a sort of possessiveness he rarely feels, isn't content to stop here. Warring with his natural concern about being overbearing is a raw desire to have what is his. He made Yussa like this, so he wants him like this, while he is still twitching, throbbing, loose-limbed and helpless.
"Gods, I had no idea you would be so perfect," he murmurs, and kisses the inside of a trembling knee. His slick hand slides between his own legs, breath hitching audibly as he strokes his heavy cock with Yussa's wetness. When he notices Yussa's book on the bed, pages askew after being dropped from limp fingers, he reaches for it with his clean hand and fixes it, closing it with care and moving it aside.
The praise washes over him as Caleb withdraws his fingers. The kiss to his brow is sweet compared to everything else and Yussa tries to regain some focus as Caleb pushes himself up. Yussa feels utterly weak, and on any other night, this would be the end of things, or very near to it. But he can feel the way Caleb is looking at him now, and when he peers up, he catches the dark intensity in his lover's eyes. Despite having three orgasms wrung out of him - two in quick succession - he feels a shiver inside him when he recognizes the possessive edge to Caleb's gaze and his touch.
Whether part of the fantasy or a hint at something not often allowed out, it's exciting. So often Caleb holds himself back, or defers to Yussa's pleasure and desire. Yussa doesn't think his lover is unsatisfied, but that is not the same thing as finding the freedom to explore something that may not usually occur to him. In the same way he has trusted Caleb to fuck him while he's trancing, he trusts Caleb tonight.
Yussa's thigh tenses briefly as Caleb's lips brush against his knee and he realizes that Caleb is stroking himself with the oil and Yussa's own slick that's left on hand. He lolls his head to look at the book as Caleb plucks it up and sets it aside, ensuring that it will not fall victim to any vigorous use.
He looks up at his lover, and he might seem placid if not for the rise and fall of his chest. But his golden eyes are intent with longing for him, with the need he expressed just moments ago: he feels achingly empty and he wants Caleb's cock, even if it pushes him beyond his usual limits.
"I--I could not have predicted you," he admits, dazed but slightly more coherent. That much is true across all things: he could not have anticipated someone like Caleb Widogast would be among the strange group that stumbled into his home some years ago; he could not have predicted that a patron like Caleb would be so skilled, and so willing to use that skill here with him, a man he's paid for.
Darkness has finally taken the street outside the Chateau, and washed over Yussa's suite as well, with the exception of a few lamps he must have lit earlier. Caleb can still see him well enough, but he wouldn't mind a little more light. Still, he waits on that request; the quiet twilight seems appropriate to the moment, the soft shadows pooling over Yussa's tired body highlighting the gentle curves and smooth planes of his form. Caleb can imagine sinking into him and losing himself. As his hand moves over his cock, he does imagine it.
Meeting the other man's eyes all but steals his breath again. They are dark and gold and far more fixed than they were even a minute ago, and he can read there the shared need he also feels, the one he intentionally meant to inspire. It would be irresponsible of him to leave Yussa wanting this way. He knows he is making excuses to himself, justifying the intensity of his own darker desire. But if the result is the same, and equally wanted, then what does it matter?
The steadier sound of Yussa's voice confirms his resolve. He smiles softly, shadows deepening the lines around his blue eyes, painfully fond already of this man he ostensibly met only hours ago. But it seems Yussa might be equally surprised by him. Caleb--client Caleb, fantasy Caleb--did hope to leave a favorable impression on the man he's saved so much to lay with. He's looked forward to this for so long now, but even he couldn't know how well it would go.
"I am a welcome surprise, I hope," he replies, a little of that intensity simmering beneath the gentle rasp of his voice. "Let's give you what you asked for, ja?"
He helps Yussa move, his touch gentle but firm with that possessiveness he just can't seem to shake. Something about Yussa's soft state, his still trembling limbs and dazed slowness, pulls that chord in him. After giving three orgasms good enough to render him weak and pliable, something Yussa himself couldn't have predicted, he's earned his pleasure.
"Turn over for me, schatz," he urges kindly after he's helped to close and lower Yussa's legs back to the bed. After laying in this splayed position for so long, muscles tensing again and again, he assumes a change might be appreciated. He is there to assist, and to drag a pillow down for Yussa to lay his head on once he's arranged on his stomach, then another to slide beneath his hips so he won't have to hold himself up. Caleb's hand strokes down his spine, admiring again the way deepening shadows play over his skin. "Comfortable?" he wonders.
It is a great relief to find that the powerful feeling he is exploring has an aspect of kindness as well, interwoven with and just as intense as the darkness.
"A very welcome one," he answers. Perhaps it's unprofessional, but he thinks Caleb deserves to know that.
Yussa needs Caleb's help to move. Far from the graceful creature that welcomed Caleb into this room, Yussa is unsteady even as he rolls over, following the other man's guidance to get into the position Caleb wants. The bells on his ankles He finds himself terribly grateful that Caleb is not even asking him to stay on hands and knees, but allows him to settle on his belly with a pillow beneath his head and another beneath his hips. There are a variety of pillows to work with, some firmer some softer, and it isn't difficult to find something that will work for what Caleb wants.
He moves to spread his legs after he's settled and he breathes a soft sigh as Caleb's hand strokes down his back, following the lines of tattoos and gold chains. It is only then that Yussa realizes the sun has set and the room is darker. He makes a vague gesture and the lanterns brighten somewhat - the light is warm, but it will allow Caleb to see more without interrupting the mood or aesthetic. They can light more later, if he wishes.
He imagines he must make a fine display: the tattoos on the backs of his thighs drawing attention to the mess between them, propped up by the pillow.
"Yes, thank you," he says as he peers over his shoulder at the younger man.
Yussa brightens the warm glow of the lanterns just enough. It is getting darker by the minute, and the lovely half-light Caleb had been appreciating wouldn't have lasted long. This is perfect. Taking his own place between Yussa's legs, gracefully extended and spread, he smiles at his answer, meeting his eye. "Good. You look beautiful."
The compliment is an easy one to give to such a stunning man, he knows, but he is desperately convinced he means it with a deeper, more profound sincerity than other patrons who share Yussa's bed. Do any of them appreciate him as he does? Truly? Yussa admitted himself a moment ago that he is different in a good way from his usual clients. He'll carry that spark of encouragement with him until morning.
Caleb strokes himself with fresh oil as his other hand trails up the back of Yussa's thigh, tracing the tattoo there all the way up to the curve of his ass. His broad hand grips the soft flesh there and his thumb slides down to rub his hole, slick and yielding. Moving another half-inch forward, his knees meet the firm pillow lifting Yussa's hips, and with guidance the head of his cock parts the wet, swollen mess of his folds to nudge into the fluttering opening of his cunt. He must still be smarting and sore between his legs, Caleb would guess, from the rough and repeated smack of his hand only minutes ago.
But he is empty, too. And Caleb can't wait another moment to fill him.
His hips roll forward and his cock sinks in, self-indulgently slow so he can watch and feel the tight heat of his walls spreading, hear how slick the oil and Yussa's arousal have made their joining. Just that one steady thrust has him bottoming out easily, Caleb's hips against Yussa's ass and thigh against thigh. His eyes flutter closed for a long moment as he breathes harshly, scraped raw by how obscenely, intensely good his paid-for lover's throbbing cunt feels around his aching cock.
As Caleb's hand moves up his thigh, he's expecting the firm grip and gentle stroke over his stretched hole. Yussa slides his arms around the pillow beneath his head for something to hold onto, and then Caleb's cock brushes between soft, swollen folds. He wasn't expecting that and he can't help the whimper that rises in his throat. He's sore, but gods, he doesn't want Caleb to stop. His back arches to lift his hips more and he manages to get his knees more firmly on the bed as Caleb sinks in slowly. Soft, slick walls bear down around Caleb's cock and Yussa moans weakly with something like relief. It's too much and it's perfect all at once.
He bows his head, quietly panting as his body adjusts. Yussa swears he feels the throb of his pulse everywhere between his thighs after the rough treatment there; having Caleb's cock buried inside him only serves to make him more aware of it, not less. But as intense as it is, it isn't bad. Just--a lot. Of course it would be. His cunt - like the rest of him - is Caleb's to do with as he pleases tonight and Yussa has no doubt this is a unique pleasure for them both. As soon as Caleb's hips press up against the curve of his ass, Yussa breathes a heavier sigh and tension bleeds from his shoulders. The feeling of his lover pressed up against him is heady.
Yussa finds himself very grateful that he is not expected to hold himself up, grateful for the pillows that are providing the support he needs so that he's not a completely boneless mess on the bed. It's still a near thing.
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?"
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?"
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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Even with that prompting, it takes Yussa a moment to properly find his voice. He manages to focus on Caleb, utterly dazed as the other man's fingers push back into him without any resistance. How easy he's become with his patron's diligent work.
"Please give me your cock," he pleads, voice heavy and strained. His cunt throbs from the firm impact of Caleb's strong, calloused hand and all Yussa can think about is his aching desire to be filled again even as Caleb's fingers fuck his ass. In his need, he offers no specifics - in the end, what happens next is up to Caleb, no matter what.
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Gods, he is so fucking beautiful. Caleb can't believe how lucky he is to be here with him now--whether after years of earning this man's trust, or months of dedicated work to earn the fifty gold on that table. The lines blur a little in the moment.
The effort to coerce that answer out of him turns out to be utterly worthwhile. The hunger for him that has been growing again steadily over the last hour turns ravenous when Yussa begs for his cock in a voice he can barely scrape together. The hot ache of his erection becomes something he can't ignore, and he is very aware of the tempting, soft heat of Yussa's body around his fingers.
"Oh, schatz," he whispers, the rasp of his voice hushed with adoration, with sympathy. "I will. Very soon," he encourages, "if you will just come for me again. I promised you three."
His fingers slide out and in again, and when his palm claps wetly over the entirety of his sore sex, he rubs with firm, soothing pressure over his cunt, grinding the heel of his hand against his swollen clit and his calloused palm over his sensitive entrance, all the more aware of that emptiness after Yussa pleaded to be filled.
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Another, Caleb says, and Yussa realizes deliriously that they must have been at this for an hour now if his lover says he promised three. With Caleb's insistence, Yussa doesn't resist the rising crest inside him and he shudders beneath the younger man when it crashes. He moans, thighs straining apart as his orgasm rushes through him in waves of tension. Tight walls squeeze around Caleb's fingers and he feels the rhythmic throb of his empty cunt bearing down around nothing. The drag of Caleb's palm over his twitching entrance is the worst tease, but Yussa does not have the wherewithal - or permission - to put his own fingers inside himself.
Yussa lays there, panting and trembling and of half a mind to try to pull away, but he doesn't have the strength for it at the moment. And, more importantly, he is Caleb's. Slowly, his hand goes weak and drops from Caleb's arm and the other releases the tight grip he's had on the blankets beneath them.
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Watching and feeling his lover's orgasm shudder through him in a wave of twitching tension has a very similar effect on Caleb, honestly. It's a triumph, an accomplishment that makes him dizzy with the knowledge of his own influence, but he is still aching for more.
"You are incredible," Caleb praises with that same hushed reverence, palm rubbing slowly over his throbbing cunt one last time before he withdraws his hand completely, sliding his slick fingers with savoring slowness from the stretched rim of his ass. He kisses Yussa's brow, beaded with sweat, and with his aching arm, pushes himself up until he is kneeling between Yussa's wide-spread thighs.
He looks fucked-out, his thin chest heaving with panting breaths, his muscles still shaking. Caleb gazes down at him, the dark, unfocused look of his eyes, with a unique appreciation, the sort of pride he's felt upon taking Yussa apart before. But then, usually, they were finished. Tonight they are very much not. Perhaps he should allow a little more rest, more of a reprieve--but Yussa asked for his cock, and he said he'd have it. And Caleb, seized with a sort of possessiveness he rarely feels, isn't content to stop here. Warring with his natural concern about being overbearing is a raw desire to have what is his. He made Yussa like this, so he wants him like this, while he is still twitching, throbbing, loose-limbed and helpless.
"Gods, I had no idea you would be so perfect," he murmurs, and kisses the inside of a trembling knee. His slick hand slides between his own legs, breath hitching audibly as he strokes his heavy cock with Yussa's wetness. When he notices Yussa's book on the bed, pages askew after being dropped from limp fingers, he reaches for it with his clean hand and fixes it, closing it with care and moving it aside.
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Whether part of the fantasy or a hint at something not often allowed out, it's exciting. So often Caleb holds himself back, or defers to Yussa's pleasure and desire. Yussa doesn't think his lover is unsatisfied, but that is not the same thing as finding the freedom to explore something that may not usually occur to him. In the same way he has trusted Caleb to fuck him while he's trancing, he trusts Caleb tonight.
Yussa's thigh tenses briefly as Caleb's lips brush against his knee and he realizes that Caleb is stroking himself with the oil and Yussa's own slick that's left on hand. He lolls his head to look at the book as Caleb plucks it up and sets it aside, ensuring that it will not fall victim to any vigorous use.
He looks up at his lover, and he might seem placid if not for the rise and fall of his chest. But his golden eyes are intent with longing for him, with the need he expressed just moments ago: he feels achingly empty and he wants Caleb's cock, even if it pushes him beyond his usual limits.
"I--I could not have predicted you," he admits, dazed but slightly more coherent. That much is true across all things: he could not have anticipated someone like Caleb Widogast would be among the strange group that stumbled into his home some years ago; he could not have predicted that a patron like Caleb would be so skilled, and so willing to use that skill here with him, a man he's paid for.
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Meeting the other man's eyes all but steals his breath again. They are dark and gold and far more fixed than they were even a minute ago, and he can read there the shared need he also feels, the one he intentionally meant to inspire. It would be irresponsible of him to leave Yussa wanting this way. He knows he is making excuses to himself, justifying the intensity of his own darker desire. But if the result is the same, and equally wanted, then what does it matter?
The steadier sound of Yussa's voice confirms his resolve. He smiles softly, shadows deepening the lines around his blue eyes, painfully fond already of this man he ostensibly met only hours ago. But it seems Yussa might be equally surprised by him. Caleb--client Caleb, fantasy Caleb--did hope to leave a favorable impression on the man he's saved so much to lay with. He's looked forward to this for so long now, but even he couldn't know how well it would go.
"I am a welcome surprise, I hope," he replies, a little of that intensity simmering beneath the gentle rasp of his voice. "Let's give you what you asked for, ja?"
He helps Yussa move, his touch gentle but firm with that possessiveness he just can't seem to shake. Something about Yussa's soft state, his still trembling limbs and dazed slowness, pulls that chord in him. After giving three orgasms good enough to render him weak and pliable, something Yussa himself couldn't have predicted, he's earned his pleasure.
"Turn over for me, schatz," he urges kindly after he's helped to close and lower Yussa's legs back to the bed. After laying in this splayed position for so long, muscles tensing again and again, he assumes a change might be appreciated. He is there to assist, and to drag a pillow down for Yussa to lay his head on once he's arranged on his stomach, then another to slide beneath his hips so he won't have to hold himself up. Caleb's hand strokes down his spine, admiring again the way deepening shadows play over his skin. "Comfortable?" he wonders.
It is a great relief to find that the powerful feeling he is exploring has an aspect of kindness as well, interwoven with and just as intense as the darkness.
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Yussa needs Caleb's help to move. Far from the graceful creature that welcomed Caleb into this room, Yussa is unsteady even as he rolls over, following the other man's guidance to get into the position Caleb wants. The bells on his ankles He finds himself terribly grateful that Caleb is not even asking him to stay on hands and knees, but allows him to settle on his belly with a pillow beneath his head and another beneath his hips. There are a variety of pillows to work with, some firmer some softer, and it isn't difficult to find something that will work for what Caleb wants.
He moves to spread his legs after he's settled and he breathes a soft sigh as Caleb's hand strokes down his back, following the lines of tattoos and gold chains. It is only then that Yussa realizes the sun has set and the room is darker. He makes a vague gesture and the lanterns brighten somewhat - the light is warm, but it will allow Caleb to see more without interrupting the mood or aesthetic. They can light more later, if he wishes.
He imagines he must make a fine display: the tattoos on the backs of his thighs drawing attention to the mess between them, propped up by the pillow.
"Yes, thank you," he says as he peers over his shoulder at the younger man.
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The compliment is an easy one to give to such a stunning man, he knows, but he is desperately convinced he means it with a deeper, more profound sincerity than other patrons who share Yussa's bed. Do any of them appreciate him as he does? Truly? Yussa admitted himself a moment ago that he is different in a good way from his usual clients. He'll carry that spark of encouragement with him until morning.
Caleb strokes himself with fresh oil as his other hand trails up the back of Yussa's thigh, tracing the tattoo there all the way up to the curve of his ass. His broad hand grips the soft flesh there and his thumb slides down to rub his hole, slick and yielding. Moving another half-inch forward, his knees meet the firm pillow lifting Yussa's hips, and with guidance the head of his cock parts the wet, swollen mess of his folds to nudge into the fluttering opening of his cunt. He must still be smarting and sore between his legs, Caleb would guess, from the rough and repeated smack of his hand only minutes ago.
But he is empty, too. And Caleb can't wait another moment to fill him.
His hips roll forward and his cock sinks in, self-indulgently slow so he can watch and feel the tight heat of his walls spreading, hear how slick the oil and Yussa's arousal have made their joining. Just that one steady thrust has him bottoming out easily, Caleb's hips against Yussa's ass and thigh against thigh. His eyes flutter closed for a long moment as he breathes harshly, scraped raw by how obscenely, intensely good his paid-for lover's throbbing cunt feels around his aching cock.
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He bows his head, quietly panting as his body adjusts. Yussa swears he feels the throb of his pulse everywhere between his thighs after the rough treatment there; having Caleb's cock buried inside him only serves to make him more aware of it, not less. But as intense as it is, it isn't bad. Just--a lot. Of course it would be. His cunt - like the rest of him - is Caleb's to do with as he pleases tonight and Yussa has no doubt this is a unique pleasure for them both. As soon as Caleb's hips press up against the curve of his ass, Yussa breathes a heavier sigh and tension bleeds from his shoulders. The feeling of his lover pressed up against him is heady.
Yussa finds himself very grateful that he is not expected to hold himself up, grateful for the pillows that are providing the support he needs so that he's not a completely boneless mess on the bed. It's still a near thing.
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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