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.
Though he isn't so blatant as to slip a hand between his legs, Yussa's increasingly desperate bid to get himself off as Caleb fucks him is hardly subtle. And the more obvious it is, the more he moans and gasps and rocks his hips and grinds against the bolster positioned under him, the more it thrills Caleb to watch him, to feel him. In a complete reversal of what he usually seeks, part of him perversely hopes Yussa won't come before he's finished with him, that he'll be left exhausted and quivering and frustrated with unfulfilled arousal, aching for Caleb's next touch.
It is this thought that spurs him on, giving himself permission to really chase his peak rather than attempt to draw this out. Remarkably, only a little more than two hours has passed since Caleb arrived for his seven o'clock appointment. It is only barely after dark. They still have all night to be together this way, and some of the morning too.
So Caleb takes much and gives little back, holding Yussa's hips in a bruising grip and sinking into his eager body again and again until his rhythm falls apart with cresting pleasure. Just at the edge, as he can feel his balls tightening, he thrusts fast and deep once, twice more--then pulls out completely, fisting his slick length and stroking himself fast and tight. It's only seconds before he's coming hard with a guttural groan, striping Yussa's brown skin with his spend. He works himself through each heavy throb of his cock, spilling over the curve of Yussa's ass, his hole, his swollen slit, the back of his thighs. The sight alone is arousing enough to coax out an extra pulse, which he rubs indulgently against Yussa's used, yielding hole with the wet head of his cock.
Suddenly lightheaded, he doesn't move, catching his breath and admiring his handiwork in an orgasm-stupid haze.
Gods, even with Caleb deep inside him, Yussa aches for more. It's so good and yet not quite enough and it's driving him mad. His thighs strain further apart as if that will somehow get him something more. It becomes more difficult when Caleb's rhythm breaks and Yussa whines weakly as the other man thrusts hard into him before abruptly pulling out. That earns a louder cry of protest when he is suddenly left empty. He grips the pillows to keep himself from trying to replace Caleb's cock with his fingers.
When Yussa peers over his shoulder he's met with the sight of Caleb stroking himself until he feels the first smatter of come on his ass. Then he feels it over his hole, his cunt. Deliriously, he wonders how it looks against the henna designs on the backs of his thighs.
With a soft groan, Yussa allows himself to slump entirely. He gives a weak, half-hearted grind against the bolster, but he would need to make more effort to get himself off. He's not close enough to the edge for it to be easy, but he's worked up enough to ache for more. He can feel his cunt throb and bear down, even if there is nothing to give any satisfaction. He isn't expecting to feel the head of Caleb's cock rubbing against him, and he realizes vaguely that the other man is spreading the last of his spend.
Yussa knows he's dripping wet, leaking come from both holes and now with more spilled over them. There's oil and his own slick mingling with it, and now sweat. He's a mess, and still all he can think about is helplessly grinding against the bolster, weakly seeking friction that still isn't enough to even take the edge off. He stops again after just a few seconds, falling still as he struggles to catch his breath. He can hear Caleb panting behind him and Yussa is well aware that the other man is likely admiring his work.
Yussa is a mess, Caleb has made a mess of him, and it is ridiculously hot. Never has he seen his lover so wrecked in quite this way before, and he relishes it. Releasing his slowly softening cock, Caleb instead traces fingertips lightly up the back of one adorned thigh, wiping a smatter of come from the other man's skin where it has landed across the henna design there. Rather than raising it to his own lips, as perhaps Yussa might expect, he reaches down and presses his fingers to Yussa's lips instead--then past them, if he'll allow it.
Clearly he hasn't gotten off yet, and he isn't going to. Gods, why is that so appealing? The way he grinds his hips down against the bolster is half-hearted at best, more a reflex than trying to achieve a goal, resigned. Caleb actively suppresses his first instinct, which is to do something about that himself. That isn't the way he is playing right now.
When he at last feels coherent enough himself, he speaks up. His voice is a low rasp still, but softer. Almost sweet, despite the utterly filthy way he strokes Yussa's tongue with his fingers. "I know you are exhausted, schatz," he says, "but we should clean up before we rest." Even if they don't sleep, taking an hour or two to relax and cuddle and recover is essential if they wish to continue later. Which Caleb very much does. He paid for the night, and he is going to have it.
Conveniently, this room has a beautiful bathing pool set into the center of the floor. Caleb noticed it when he came in, flower petals drifting on the surface of the water, a basket on ledge containing everything needed for a pricy courtesan to pamper himself or his client.
He isn't expecting it, but Yussa's lips part at the touch of Caleb's fingers. He tastes the other man's come as soon as they brush against his tongue. Yussa offers a weak suck before his mouth yields to whatever Caleb wants to do. He feels another aching throb low in his body as his patron's fingers stroke over his tongue.
The younger man's voice is so tender as he speaks and Yussa could almost forget his current state if not for the fingers in his mouth. He nods a little to acknowledge Caleb's desire to bathe, but he doesn't try to speak until Caleb's fingers slip out of his mouth.
"The bath is ready," he murmurs, his accent heavy and his voice betraying both his lingering need and his rightly noted exhaustion. It takes a little while, but soon enough Yussa manages to push himself up, straddling the bolster as he sits back. Gods, he wants to push Caleb back onto the bed, he wants to straddle his lover's head instead of this pillow and take what he aches to have. But that is not the game, and despite his simmering need, Yussa is enjoying himself immensely ceding his normal control to Caleb.
He attempts to get his white hair back in order, combing trembling fingers through it to at least get it out of his face. Whenever Caleb is ready to move, Yussa will follow.
Caleb nods, noting both the weariness and still-apparent arousal in Yussa's voice. The other man manages to get himself into a sitting position, thighs still hugging the bolster. Before he can move any further, however, Caleb clicks his tongue as though just remembering something, and says, "Ah, but first--stay there a moment, bitte."
His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.
Yussa doesn't bother to hide the flicker of confusion across his face as Caleb asks him to stay where he is. He watches, almost uncomprehending, as the other man gets up to look over the table of toys--and he finally catches up when he sees the plug Caleb's chosen. He bites his lip when Caleb shows it to him. He can't help the way he stares as the other man slicks it up, knowing what he intends to do and yet still not entirely processing it.
But then the other man coaxes him to lean forward and he does as he's told, and soon enough Yussa feels the slick, cool glass against him. He doesn't bother to hold back the little whine in the back of his throat as it sinks into him - almost effortlessly - and settles with the base against his skin. Gods, Caleb said he would do it and the experience is still striking. The way Caleb pats his hip when he finishes is--he doesn't even know how to describe it. But it resonates. He only moves again when his patron encourages him - and helps him. Yussa finds himself grateful for that, as his legs are still unsteady and now he's intensely aware of the plug settled inside him.
Yussa continues to depend on Caleb's gentle support as he eases down into the bath. A smile finally reappears as Caleb brushes his hair back.
"Of course," he answers, feeling more coherent and more in control of himself. The scent of the water is gently floral, both from the oil that is in the water and the petals floating on top of it. Yussa can't believe quite how mindless he felt until a moment ago, slow to comprehend and slow to react. Gods, Caleb is impressive.
Caleb's smile brightens when given permission, as though being allowed to help Yussa bathe is a more intimate and unexpected privilege than what they've already done together--what he has already claimed from this man. Liberties taken without asking may I? in exchange for the coin still glinting on the table near the door. And Yussa has been so receptive to all of it. Even his lethargy now feels like a reward.
Soap and washcloth in hand, Caleb begins to gently lather Yussa's skin, beginning at his shoulders. He's been admiring the intricate henna tattoos covering much of him for hours, but now he has the chance to really look at them in detail as he washes the evidence of sex from his lover's body. He traces the lines of ink with his fingers as he works his way down the front of his body, veering only to generously soap and indulgently grope Yussa's small, pert breasts, thumbing over a few light bruises in the distinct shape of his mouth.
Selfishly, he wants to slip a hand between Yussa's legs just to feel the lingering evidence of his unsatisfied arousal, his erect clit jutting from slick-soaked folds, and held within his body, the width of the glass plug keeping his well-fucked ass stretched wide for him. But that would be cruel when he still has no intention of making him come, so he refrains.
He kisses Yussa's brow first as his hands cover his body with purpose, but soon leans down to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss. It's been a bit, and he has always loved kissing Yussa--and Yussa had admitted to him earlier tonight that he very much enjoys kissing, too. Why not indulge, then, in a little lazy making out while they wash?
Yussa breathes a softer sigh as Caleb takes the soap and cloth to his sweat-streaked skin. A small, private smile appears as the other man takes time to look at the henna. It won't wash away or smudge, thankfully, so Caleb can explore and examine the patterns as much as he wants. The deliberate tracing of his fingers along the familiar lines makes Yussa feel warm; the way his patron gets distracted by groping him makes his smile grow more indulgent.
He tips his head up as Caleb kisses his brow and meets him as the other man leans down to properly kiss him. He sways closer, one hand resting lightly against Caleb's chest and the other on his cheek. It's a sweet kiss, not quite chaste, and Yussa is content to indulge Caleb's desire for it. With the next kiss his lips part slightly in silent invitation, tempting Caleb to take more.
Having a patron so keen to tend to his pleasure, to his likes and dislikes, makes for a very pleasant evening. Even if Caleb is currently ignoring his lingering arousal. Yussa feels more sensitive in that condition, enough that even little currents of water created when Caleb moves reminds him of it.
That is a temptation he doesn't even attempt resisting. His tongue brushes over Yussa's parted lips, tracing the lower one delicately before slipping into his mouth. More preoccupied by kissing than he expected, his attention for washing wanes, to be resumed afterward. In the meantime Caleb touches his lover everywhere, hands running along his sides, down his back, over his ass. Maybe that still counts, somewhat. Yussa is already much cleaner than he was.
Perhaps he isn't tending Yussa's arousal directly, but he gladly touches him in ways he clearly enjoys, repeatedly returning to squeeze and skim his fingers over spots that draw out a particular response, whether a shiver or a soft sound or subtly leaning into him. Invited to do so, Caleb kisses him thoroughly all the while.
When the kiss does break at last, Caleb doesn't move away. He strokes the soft skin at the small of Yussa's back and smiles down at him, fonder than he should be of a man he met only hours ago, but he think that somehow fits this little fantasy, too. There is an undeniable connection, a genuine chemistry that perhaps courtesan-Yussa might recognize all the more for so often having to fabricate it. But tonight, everything is raw and true except what isn't: the entire premise of this little scene.
"After we bathe, I think a short rest is in order," he murmurs, the thickly accented rasp of his voice colored warmly with gentle humor. "The night is still young, but we have already worn each other out very thoroughly."
Yussa sighs softly as Caleb takes full advantage of what he's offered. He leans more into the taller man, losing all thought of washing even as Caleb's hands slide over every inch of him that he can reach. In this way his patron finds places where he is more sensitive: between his shoulders, the back of his neck, his chest, and his long, pointed ears. He holds onto Caleb for more balance and he can't stop a soft whine when the other man grabs his ass, reminding him of the plug neatly tucked into him and keeping him open.
By the time the kiss fully breaks, Yussa is breathless again and momentarily dazed. The smile on his lips is unfeigned, a secret for this patron who has given him more delight than any other. This man that makes him feel a little spark that's never been necessary for his work, but enjoyable.
"As you like," he answers, not quite automatically but without full thought behind it. They'll do exactly as Caleb likes. But as the thought really sinks in Yussa finds himself wondering - assuming - that the ache between his thighs will remain unattended until they've had a moment to recover. But he can't - won't - protest that, should that be the case.
His expression grows warmer, more focused, and Yussa caresses Caleb's cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"I think we've quite earned that," he adds. "Whenever you'd like to retire, we can."
He finds himself wondering what Caleb will want for that. Will he hold Yussa and take pleasure in his presence while he dozes? Or will Caleb have something else in store while he rests? The anticipation and uncertainty of the night has added to the excitement.
Both in and out of this scene, the undisguised delight in Yussa's kiss-dazed smile makes Caleb's heart beat faster and his stomach flutter with a hopeful sort of nervousness. That he can bring this man such joy, whether he is an archmage or a sought-after lover-for-hire, is one of the greatest pleasures of his life.
His stubble prickles against the backs of Yussa's fingers as he strokes his cheek, and Caleb's smile spreads a touch wider.
"I do not intend to spend many of the precious few hours I have with you asleep. But to me, there is something decadent also about resting together after exerting ourselves in the way we have," he clarifies. Doing nothing but dozing in comfort in the company of a fine man in a fine place. Men like Caleb Widogast aren't supposed to get that kind of luxury. "Additionally, however much I may desire to continue as we have been, the regrettable reality remains that certain equipment has a requisite cooldown time, especially at my age."
At my age, he says, an old man of thirty-five. His eyes sparkle with mirth still reflected in the tone of his voice, the quirk of his lips.
"Unfortunately, I am only human. Regardless of the mind's eagerness, there is only so much the body will permit."
When Caleb mentions that part of his reasoning for this rest has less to do with desire and more to do with his refractory period, Yussa tips his head. He studies the other man, as if trying to decide whether or not to share a secret.
"There are ways around that, if you'd like," he says, not quite coy but certainly leading, tempting. "I wouldn't typically offer, but you have done so much to be here. I see no reason why you should spend it doing anything less than what you want."
Yussa knows the workers here and in other brothels throughout the city use powders like the one he's about to offer Caleb - usually for themselves, but he sees no harm in offering it to this specific client.
Caleb's eyebrows shoot up, doubly surprised. He wouldn't have expected Yussa to go to the trouble to procure such a thing just for tonight. Yet his lover has committed to this fantasy in so many other ways, going above and beyond as he is wont to do, and he certainly has the means to procure whatever he might want in order to enhance their play. So perhaps it is not so surprising after all.
"You are referring to, ah...some sort of refined aphrodisiac, I presume."
He's hardly ignorant of the practice, though he was also under the impression that these compounds were typically used by the providers themselves rather than their clients. That Yussa is choosing to make this offer entirely unprompted is, in that case, especially telling. He really does want Caleb to get what he wants from tonight. Whatever he wants.
"Is this a drug, or magical in nature?" His lips quirk a fraction wider, surprise melting into amusement. "Or both?"
Yussa considers his answer. "More of the former than the latter. In my adventuring days I came across some plants in Issylra that made for an... interesting reaction. I've refined it since then."
It isn't any drug, it's Yussa's concoction. He drops the hint about Issylra, thinking that Caleb's perfect memory would not soon forget the details of that somewhat distressing and exhausting day after Yussa returned from a trip abroad with new components to experiment with.
He sinks into the water up to his shoulders for a rinse, then slips out of the water. He doesn't bother with a towel but does make sure his feet are completely wet before he moves across the tile floor. He opens the small cabinet next to the bed and takes out a small tin. Yussa deftly crosses back to the pool and sits down on the edge of it, trying to ignore the slight shock of the cold tile against his overheated cunt.
"It's a powder," he says. "Easily mixed with a drink or food. It's not quite as potent as it was in its original form, but it's far more... predictable."
Oh. Oh. It's that. Caleb's mind is immediately catapulted back--gods, was it really more than a year ago already?--to that frantic, somewhat concerning but thoroughly satisfying day and night spent tending to an utterly unsatiable Yussa, his body enflamed by a particularly potent accidental combination of components.
Well then.
"Consider me intrigued," he says, watching Yussa climb dripping from the pool and collect what he needs from the bedside cabinet with a gnawing hunger that (currently) has no outlet.
He has some concerns, namely the potency of the compound. Yussa was in a state for nearly a full day, and in the context of their game, Caleb has much less time. In fact, he doesn't particularly want to experience the level of intensity that Yussa had, either. The loss of control isn't something he wants for this particular experience, and as much as the idea of fucking Yussa all night appeals in theory, the idea of remaining hard without relief no matter how many times he comes is--well, actually, that sounds like something he would be very into. Just not tonight, unprepared for that sort of commitment as he is.
But Yussa assuages that fear without him even having to voice it. If he's refined it into a far less volatile form, Caleb trusts his work and his judgement. (Also, he's very curious as to how he knows it is predictable now. Has he been testing it on himself without inviting his lover? Caleb saves the playful affront he feels for later.)
"As long as I am not still sporting an erection when I walk out of here tomorrow, that sounds good to me," he jokes, wading through the water to lean against the side of the pool where Yussa sits. His hand covers the other man's knee when he places it there and squeezes. "This is generous, Yussa. Thank you."
"No, certainly not," he assures. "In this form it will make... bouncing back quickly a less daunting task. And in a measured dose it will wear off in a few hours."
But that gives them that much time to indulge, and if Caleb decides he wants to go a little longer, Yussa knows how to dose it to last an hour or so more. He also has a dose of something to make it end sooner, if anything should come up. Caleb's hand is warm on his knee and that touch alone - along with the tile he's currently sitting on - remind him that his own arousal is still simmering.
"Shall I pour another glass of wine?" he asks, allowing himself to sound more coy. As soon as he has his answer, Yussa gestures at the tray still sitting by the bed. It comes to them as if carried by a steady hand; once on the floor next to Yussa, he refills one of the wine glasses. He opens the tin and takes a small spoon off the tray, possibly there for this purpose, and deftly measures a dose to tip into the glass. Another small casting makes the wine in the glass swirl. Satisfied that the powder has dissolved, Yussa offers the glass to his patron.
"It will take a few minutes," he adds. "We can rest while we wait. You'll feel it... perhaps a little more intensely than normal arousal, but you won't be mindless or without control. It enhances, nothing more."
"Please," Caleb confirms when offered wine, and smiles as Yussa brings the tray to them with his mage hand. That he is an accomplished mage with a brilliant mind for arcana really is one of the reasons the Caleb of this fantasy became interested in him, and that shows in the way he watches him cast.
He observes as Yussa deftly prepares his dose (he has absolutely been experimenting, and Caleb will press him about that later), and accepts the glass from him with another murmur of thanks when he is finished, holding it by the stem.
"Sehr gut. That seems like a very enjoyable way to make the most of tonight," he says, bright-eyed and smiling crookedly. "Well then. To continuing a memorable evening." He tips the glass in a toast, then raises it to his lips and drinks.
True to what Yussa said, he doesn't feel anything right away, just the momentary dizzy rush of downing a glass of wine all in one go. He sets it empty back onto the tray, presses a playful kiss to his lover's cheek, and uses this opportunity to wash up a bit himself; a clean slate for what's to come next. He doesn't feel any change yet by the time he's finished, and Yussa's suggestion to rest while they wait is exactly what he wants.
After they are both dry enough, they roll back into bed together--after Yussa has prestidigitated the sheets in a few necessary places, of course. Caleb lays naked and relaxed on his back in the middle of the lavish duvet with more pillows than he knows what to do with and pulls his generous lover against him, an arm looped beneath him around his waist as he combs gentle fingers through Yussa's damp hair with the other. If he does nothing with it, Caleb knows it will dry either in waves or loose curls, depending on the humidity; but like so much else about this man, he isn't supposed to know that yet. Tonight he does his best to look at him with new eyes, enjoying the process of rediscovery, of falling in love with Yussa one detail at a time all over again.
Yussa admires Caleb while he bathes, having a small glass of wine for himself as the other man finishes up. Once they're both dry, it's easy to fall into bed again. He settles against Caleb's side, enjoying the scent of the soap on his skin. He doesn't bother to do much with his hair beyond making sure it isn't tangled as they settle in together.
His fingers drift lazily over Caleb's chest, tracing up and down his sternum as he takes in the man beside him. Playing at not knowing each other at all means he can see this all again, but he can't quite shake the memory of the very first time. Maybe that helps - this man in his bed is far from the terrified mage that first came to his tower. The fantasy blurs and Yussa lets all of that slip from his mind, focusing more on the immediacy of his lover's presence.
The night is warm enough to be pleasant with the balcony doors left open, but the breeze coming off the ocean keeps it from being oppressive. It is a perfect night for this. For anything.
He's content to take the time to relax, knowing - more or less - what he'll be in for once the powder kicks in. He keeps up a conversation if it seems like Caleb wants one, knowing at the very least they have enough in common as arcanists for it to be interesting rather than just empty small talk.
The first time Caleb met the Archmage of Tidepeak Tower, he did all he could to avoid Yussa's attention, but got it anyway. Ever since, he has grown in power and confidence with each meeting, and as he became more certain of himself and his role as Yussa's occasional protégé, he became aware of this chemistry between them, an irresistible draw to him that has grown exponentially stronger since. Perhaps it was always there, but he was just too in his head at the beginning to notice it.
Tonight, playing at meeting Yussa for the first time again, but this time as a fully realized version of himself, that magnetic pull is undeniable and intense right from the start. They look at each other, drifting between engaging conversation and comfortable quiet as Yussa strokes fingers through the dark red hair on his chest and Caleb's thumb rubs back and forth against his spine, and Caleb feels something beneath his skin like an electric current, or the weave of magic touching flesh. (He is pretty sure it is not the drugs. Not solely, anyway.)
Somehow he knows that if this night were real, if they were actually the versions of themselves they are pretending to be, he would still feel whatever that is, a powerfully physical and emotional and intellectual connection. If he was the Caleb Widogast who spent months working for the means to spend a night in this man's bed, he knows that he would be falling in love right now.
When love happens to him, it is always like that. Hard and fast and bordering on obsessive, and against whatever reason he may wish to apply.
Caleb enjoys the conversation for a bit, but does eventually slip into a light doze. It's not quite sleep, as he still retains a fuzzy awareness of sensations and thoughts, but he lets his mind slip into a more restful state where he doesn't examine these things, letting them drift away as quickly as they occur. Most importantly, he can still check the time and make sure he isn't wasting too much of it. But he really wrecked and exhausted Yussa in that last round in a way he never has before. Giving him some time to recover before they continue seems less like a courtesy than a necessity.
As Caleb drifts off, Yussa allows himself to do the same. It isn't a full trance, though even if it was he could slip out of it easily. It's a lighter meditative state, listening to the sound of his lover's heart and the ocean below. If not for the sounds of the city, they could be in Tidepeak. Despite the comfort there, Yussa is grateful that they are here instead, playing in this fantasy. It allows him to see sides of Caleb he hasn't discovered yet, ones that leave him curious and delighted. It's a good enough game to get the younger man further out of his head, out of the role he assumes is his. That Caleb's curiosity and willingness to experiment matches his own only makes it more fulfilling.
Perhaps it's for the best he isn't trying to trance. Yussa is still very aware of the lingering ache in his body, the desire for fulfillment despite their last round. Or perhaps because of it. He resists the urge to touch himself while Caleb dozes, determined to give the other man that control and pleasure himself. It's very tempting, though, especially when it's easy to slip his leg over Caleb's and to feel the slight pressure of his patron's thigh between his own. He doesn't press or grind the way he wants to, and he's not sure if acknowledging this is worse than letting it fade.
Yussa breaths a soft sigh and lets go of the feeling, the thought, as best he can. He keeps his own mind on the time, but he isn't worried. If Caleb is determined not to rest too long, Yussa has no doubt his lover's internal clock will rattle him when it's time.
He listens to the sound of Caleb's breathing, focusing on that rather than his heart as it's more likely to tell him when the other man is coming around. He'll slip out of his meditation when he catches the change.
After Yussa's thigh slides over his, Caleb remains very aware of that particular contact, even in his half-drifting state. Yussa's skin is warm and soft everywhere they are pressed together, but especially between his legs, where Caleb can feel the damp heat of his folds. The evidence that his arousal still persists isn't quite enough to prompt him to cut short their rest so soon, but it is probably the reason Caleb's cock starts to stir again before his mind does.
Caleb's awareness begins to sharpen some time after that--a little more than an hour, according to his internal clock--and his breathing changes from the slow, deep cadence of rest to shorter and shallower breaths as he wakes fully. It was a relatively short amount of time, just as he wanted, but it was enough that he does feel somewhat noticeably rejuvenated. Almost a surprise to him, his cock has firmed up in that time to at least half stiffness with no prompting. That maybe is the drugs.
His eyes open, but he doesn't move, still laying there on his back with Yussa tucked against and partially over him, but takes stock of what he notices about his body, because certainly, Yussa's Issylran plant concoction has fully hit his system by now. In addition to the obvious arousal, there is some restlessness, some insistence from his body, but not much more so than if he'd woken half hard in any other context. He isn't exceptionally uncomfortable or desperate. He feels in perfect control of himself and his desires.
He does very much want to fuck, though.
Reaching down with his free arm, he adjusts the way his erection lays against his belly, feeling a twitch and pulse of pleasure as it begins to plump up more now that he is actively noticing and planning to do something about it. His hand lingers. All right, fine--he indulges, just a little, in gently squeezing the hardening shaft and rolling his balls in his hand, and his body absolutely lights up from within, a signal traveling through his nerves like a message along copper wire.
Okay, maybe there is a little something extra to this, but Caleb's previous assessment still stands. There's no distress or frenzied need; it just feels good.
Yussa feels Caleb move as he wakes and a smirk teases at the corner of his mouth when he realizes what he can feel is the movement of Caleb's arm as he strokes his cock. He'd know that motion even if he were properly trancing. He opens his eyes to peer up at the other man.
"Feeling rested?" he asks, his voice warm and low. Caleb looks good lying beside him, beneath him, enjoying himself in such an effortless way. Gods, this was a good idea.
Yussa shifts carefully so that he can prop himself up on his elbow, careful to avoid the arm still around him. He flicks his gaze down to Caleb's quickly firming cock pointedly before meeting his gaze again. He leans down to give Caleb a light kiss that could be mistaken for chaste if not for the heat of his cunt pressed against Caleb's thigh. His own arousal has come rushing back now that he's certain the powder is working as it should. It's always gratifying when a series of experiments works the way he wanted them to. He's almost certain Caleb will want to know more details after this, as he knows he hasn't forgotten that day.
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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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It is this thought that spurs him on, giving himself permission to really chase his peak rather than attempt to draw this out. Remarkably, only a little more than two hours has passed since Caleb arrived for his seven o'clock appointment. It is only barely after dark. They still have all night to be together this way, and some of the morning too.
So Caleb takes much and gives little back, holding Yussa's hips in a bruising grip and sinking into his eager body again and again until his rhythm falls apart with cresting pleasure. Just at the edge, as he can feel his balls tightening, he thrusts fast and deep once, twice more--then pulls out completely, fisting his slick length and stroking himself fast and tight. It's only seconds before he's coming hard with a guttural groan, striping Yussa's brown skin with his spend. He works himself through each heavy throb of his cock, spilling over the curve of Yussa's ass, his hole, his swollen slit, the back of his thighs. The sight alone is arousing enough to coax out an extra pulse, which he rubs indulgently against Yussa's used, yielding hole with the wet head of his cock.
Suddenly lightheaded, he doesn't move, catching his breath and admiring his handiwork in an orgasm-stupid haze.
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When Yussa peers over his shoulder he's met with the sight of Caleb stroking himself until he feels the first smatter of come on his ass. Then he feels it over his hole, his cunt. Deliriously, he wonders how it looks against the henna designs on the backs of his thighs.
With a soft groan, Yussa allows himself to slump entirely. He gives a weak, half-hearted grind against the bolster, but he would need to make more effort to get himself off. He's not close enough to the edge for it to be easy, but he's worked up enough to ache for more. He can feel his cunt throb and bear down, even if there is nothing to give any satisfaction. He isn't expecting to feel the head of Caleb's cock rubbing against him, and he realizes vaguely that the other man is spreading the last of his spend.
Yussa knows he's dripping wet, leaking come from both holes and now with more spilled over them. There's oil and his own slick mingling with it, and now sweat. He's a mess, and still all he can think about is helplessly grinding against the bolster, weakly seeking friction that still isn't enough to even take the edge off. He stops again after just a few seconds, falling still as he struggles to catch his breath. He can hear Caleb panting behind him and Yussa is well aware that the other man is likely admiring his work.
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Clearly he hasn't gotten off yet, and he isn't going to. Gods, why is that so appealing? The way he grinds his hips down against the bolster is half-hearted at best, more a reflex than trying to achieve a goal, resigned. Caleb actively suppresses his first instinct, which is to do something about that himself. That isn't the way he is playing right now.
When he at last feels coherent enough himself, he speaks up. His voice is a low rasp still, but softer. Almost sweet, despite the utterly filthy way he strokes Yussa's tongue with his fingers. "I know you are exhausted, schatz," he says, "but we should clean up before we rest." Even if they don't sleep, taking an hour or two to relax and cuddle and recover is essential if they wish to continue later. Which Caleb very much does. He paid for the night, and he is going to have it.
Conveniently, this room has a beautiful bathing pool set into the center of the floor. Caleb noticed it when he came in, flower petals drifting on the surface of the water, a basket on ledge containing everything needed for a pricy courtesan to pamper himself or his client.
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The younger man's voice is so tender as he speaks and Yussa could almost forget his current state if not for the fingers in his mouth. He nods a little to acknowledge Caleb's desire to bathe, but he doesn't try to speak until Caleb's fingers slip out of his mouth.
"The bath is ready," he murmurs, his accent heavy and his voice betraying both his lingering need and his rightly noted exhaustion. It takes a little while, but soon enough Yussa manages to push himself up, straddling the bolster as he sits back. Gods, he wants to push Caleb back onto the bed, he wants to straddle his lover's head instead of this pillow and take what he aches to have. But that is not the game, and despite his simmering need, Yussa is enjoying himself immensely ceding his normal control to Caleb.
He attempts to get his white hair back in order, combing trembling fingers through it to at least get it out of his face. Whenever Caleb is ready to move, Yussa will follow.
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His own legs could be steadier, but moving gets easier the longer he is upright. It's only a few steps between the bed and the table Yussa had referenced earlier with its selection of toys laid out for his perusal. He knows the one he wants already, and it takes less than fifteen seconds to retrieve the plug and return to Yussa on the bed. He holds it up, making sure Yussa sees what is in his hand before he reaches for the oil again. With the state Yussa is in, slicking it probably isn't strictly necessary, but Caleb prefers to be careful and courteous about such things even when he is the one in control. Especially then, even.
"Lean forward just a little, schatz--ja, gut," he instructs quietly. One hand holds Yussa's hip as the other presses the freshly oiled glass plug to his stretched hole. He barely needs to work to slip it inside, settling the flared base flush to Yussa's skin. "There," he murmurs. "Something for later." He kisses the back of Yussa's shoulder tenderly, pats his hip, and then rises from the bed again.
Caleb is caring and conscientious, almost gentlemanly as he guides Yussa from bed to bath with an arm around him, slipping into the water first to help the other man in after him. The water is a pleasant temperature, neither too hot nor too cold--magically so, he would guess. The flower petals add a soft, pleasant scent, and even exhausted as he is, Yussa looks lovely among them. A hand remains on the small of his lover's back, steadying. Calloused fingers, now dripping with bathwater, smooth a lock of sweat-damp hair back from Yussa's face. "May I help you wash?" he requests, ready to reach for the soap.
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But then the other man coaxes him to lean forward and he does as he's told, and soon enough Yussa feels the slick, cool glass against him. He doesn't bother to hold back the little whine in the back of his throat as it sinks into him - almost effortlessly - and settles with the base against his skin. Gods, Caleb said he would do it and the experience is still striking. The way Caleb pats his hip when he finishes is--he doesn't even know how to describe it. But it resonates. He only moves again when his patron encourages him - and helps him. Yussa finds himself grateful for that, as his legs are still unsteady and now he's intensely aware of the plug settled inside him.
Yussa continues to depend on Caleb's gentle support as he eases down into the bath. A smile finally reappears as Caleb brushes his hair back.
"Of course," he answers, feeling more coherent and more in control of himself. The scent of the water is gently floral, both from the oil that is in the water and the petals floating on top of it. Yussa can't believe quite how mindless he felt until a moment ago, slow to comprehend and slow to react. Gods, Caleb is impressive.
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Soap and washcloth in hand, Caleb begins to gently lather Yussa's skin, beginning at his shoulders. He's been admiring the intricate henna tattoos covering much of him for hours, but now he has the chance to really look at them in detail as he washes the evidence of sex from his lover's body. He traces the lines of ink with his fingers as he works his way down the front of his body, veering only to generously soap and indulgently grope Yussa's small, pert breasts, thumbing over a few light bruises in the distinct shape of his mouth.
Selfishly, he wants to slip a hand between Yussa's legs just to feel the lingering evidence of his unsatisfied arousal, his erect clit jutting from slick-soaked folds, and held within his body, the width of the glass plug keeping his well-fucked ass stretched wide for him. But that would be cruel when he still has no intention of making him come, so he refrains.
He kisses Yussa's brow first as his hands cover his body with purpose, but soon leans down to capture his lips in an almost chaste kiss. It's been a bit, and he has always loved kissing Yussa--and Yussa had admitted to him earlier tonight that he very much enjoys kissing, too. Why not indulge, then, in a little lazy making out while they wash?
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He tips his head up as Caleb kisses his brow and meets him as the other man leans down to properly kiss him. He sways closer, one hand resting lightly against Caleb's chest and the other on his cheek. It's a sweet kiss, not quite chaste, and Yussa is content to indulge Caleb's desire for it. With the next kiss his lips part slightly in silent invitation, tempting Caleb to take more.
Having a patron so keen to tend to his pleasure, to his likes and dislikes, makes for a very pleasant evening. Even if Caleb is currently ignoring his lingering arousal. Yussa feels more sensitive in that condition, enough that even little currents of water created when Caleb moves reminds him of it.
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Perhaps he isn't tending Yussa's arousal directly, but he gladly touches him in ways he clearly enjoys, repeatedly returning to squeeze and skim his fingers over spots that draw out a particular response, whether a shiver or a soft sound or subtly leaning into him. Invited to do so, Caleb kisses him thoroughly all the while.
When the kiss does break at last, Caleb doesn't move away. He strokes the soft skin at the small of Yussa's back and smiles down at him, fonder than he should be of a man he met only hours ago, but he think that somehow fits this little fantasy, too. There is an undeniable connection, a genuine chemistry that perhaps courtesan-Yussa might recognize all the more for so often having to fabricate it. But tonight, everything is raw and true except what isn't: the entire premise of this little scene.
"After we bathe, I think a short rest is in order," he murmurs, the thickly accented rasp of his voice colored warmly with gentle humor. "The night is still young, but we have already worn each other out very thoroughly."
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By the time the kiss fully breaks, Yussa is breathless again and momentarily dazed. The smile on his lips is unfeigned, a secret for this patron who has given him more delight than any other. This man that makes him feel a little spark that's never been necessary for his work, but enjoyable.
"As you like," he answers, not quite automatically but without full thought behind it. They'll do exactly as Caleb likes. But as the thought really sinks in Yussa finds himself wondering - assuming - that the ache between his thighs will remain unattended until they've had a moment to recover. But he can't - won't - protest that, should that be the case.
His expression grows warmer, more focused, and Yussa caresses Caleb's cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"I think we've quite earned that," he adds. "Whenever you'd like to retire, we can."
He finds himself wondering what Caleb will want for that. Will he hold Yussa and take pleasure in his presence while he dozes? Or will Caleb have something else in store while he rests? The anticipation and uncertainty of the night has added to the excitement.
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His stubble prickles against the backs of Yussa's fingers as he strokes his cheek, and Caleb's smile spreads a touch wider.
"I do not intend to spend many of the precious few hours I have with you asleep. But to me, there is something decadent also about resting together after exerting ourselves in the way we have," he clarifies. Doing nothing but dozing in comfort in the company of a fine man in a fine place. Men like Caleb Widogast aren't supposed to get that kind of luxury. "Additionally, however much I may desire to continue as we have been, the regrettable reality remains that certain equipment has a requisite cooldown time, especially at my age."
At my age, he says, an old man of thirty-five. His eyes sparkle with mirth still reflected in the tone of his voice, the quirk of his lips.
"Unfortunately, I am only human. Regardless of the mind's eagerness, there is only so much the body will permit."
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"There are ways around that, if you'd like," he says, not quite coy but certainly leading, tempting. "I wouldn't typically offer, but you have done so much to be here. I see no reason why you should spend it doing anything less than what you want."
Yussa knows the workers here and in other brothels throughout the city use powders like the one he's about to offer Caleb - usually for themselves, but he sees no harm in offering it to this specific client.
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"You are referring to, ah...some sort of refined aphrodisiac, I presume."
He's hardly ignorant of the practice, though he was also under the impression that these compounds were typically used by the providers themselves rather than their clients. That Yussa is choosing to make this offer entirely unprompted is, in that case, especially telling. He really does want Caleb to get what he wants from tonight. Whatever he wants.
"Is this a drug, or magical in nature?" His lips quirk a fraction wider, surprise melting into amusement. "Or both?"
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It isn't any drug, it's Yussa's concoction. He drops the hint about Issylra, thinking that Caleb's perfect memory would not soon forget the details of that somewhat distressing and exhausting day after Yussa returned from a trip abroad with new components to experiment with.
He sinks into the water up to his shoulders for a rinse, then slips out of the water. He doesn't bother with a towel but does make sure his feet are completely wet before he moves across the tile floor. He opens the small cabinet next to the bed and takes out a small tin. Yussa deftly crosses back to the pool and sits down on the edge of it, trying to ignore the slight shock of the cold tile against his overheated cunt.
"It's a powder," he says. "Easily mixed with a drink or food. It's not quite as potent as it was in its original form, but it's far more... predictable."
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Well then.
"Consider me intrigued," he says, watching Yussa climb dripping from the pool and collect what he needs from the bedside cabinet with a gnawing hunger that (currently) has no outlet.
He has some concerns, namely the potency of the compound. Yussa was in a state for nearly a full day, and in the context of their game, Caleb has much less time. In fact, he doesn't particularly want to experience the level of intensity that Yussa had, either. The loss of control isn't something he wants for this particular experience, and as much as the idea of fucking Yussa all night appeals in theory, the idea of remaining hard without relief no matter how many times he comes is--well, actually, that sounds like something he would be very into. Just not tonight, unprepared for that sort of commitment as he is.
But Yussa assuages that fear without him even having to voice it. If he's refined it into a far less volatile form, Caleb trusts his work and his judgement. (Also, he's very curious as to how he knows it is predictable now. Has he been testing it on himself without inviting his lover? Caleb saves the playful affront he feels for later.)
"As long as I am not still sporting an erection when I walk out of here tomorrow, that sounds good to me," he jokes, wading through the water to lean against the side of the pool where Yussa sits. His hand covers the other man's knee when he places it there and squeezes. "This is generous, Yussa. Thank you."
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But that gives them that much time to indulge, and if Caleb decides he wants to go a little longer, Yussa knows how to dose it to last an hour or so more. He also has a dose of something to make it end sooner, if anything should come up. Caleb's hand is warm on his knee and that touch alone - along with the tile he's currently sitting on - remind him that his own arousal is still simmering.
"Shall I pour another glass of wine?" he asks, allowing himself to sound more coy. As soon as he has his answer, Yussa gestures at the tray still sitting by the bed. It comes to them as if carried by a steady hand; once on the floor next to Yussa, he refills one of the wine glasses. He opens the tin and takes a small spoon off the tray, possibly there for this purpose, and deftly measures a dose to tip into the glass. Another small casting makes the wine in the glass swirl. Satisfied that the powder has dissolved, Yussa offers the glass to his patron.
"It will take a few minutes," he adds. "We can rest while we wait. You'll feel it... perhaps a little more intensely than normal arousal, but you won't be mindless or without control. It enhances, nothing more."
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He observes as Yussa deftly prepares his dose (he has absolutely been experimenting, and Caleb will press him about that later), and accepts the glass from him with another murmur of thanks when he is finished, holding it by the stem.
"Sehr gut. That seems like a very enjoyable way to make the most of tonight," he says, bright-eyed and smiling crookedly. "Well then. To continuing a memorable evening." He tips the glass in a toast, then raises it to his lips and drinks.
True to what Yussa said, he doesn't feel anything right away, just the momentary dizzy rush of downing a glass of wine all in one go. He sets it empty back onto the tray, presses a playful kiss to his lover's cheek, and uses this opportunity to wash up a bit himself; a clean slate for what's to come next. He doesn't feel any change yet by the time he's finished, and Yussa's suggestion to rest while they wait is exactly what he wants.
After they are both dry enough, they roll back into bed together--after Yussa has prestidigitated the sheets in a few necessary places, of course. Caleb lays naked and relaxed on his back in the middle of the lavish duvet with more pillows than he knows what to do with and pulls his generous lover against him, an arm looped beneath him around his waist as he combs gentle fingers through Yussa's damp hair with the other. If he does nothing with it, Caleb knows it will dry either in waves or loose curls, depending on the humidity; but like so much else about this man, he isn't supposed to know that yet. Tonight he does his best to look at him with new eyes, enjoying the process of rediscovery, of falling in love with Yussa one detail at a time all over again.
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His fingers drift lazily over Caleb's chest, tracing up and down his sternum as he takes in the man beside him. Playing at not knowing each other at all means he can see this all again, but he can't quite shake the memory of the very first time. Maybe that helps - this man in his bed is far from the terrified mage that first came to his tower. The fantasy blurs and Yussa lets all of that slip from his mind, focusing more on the immediacy of his lover's presence.
The night is warm enough to be pleasant with the balcony doors left open, but the breeze coming off the ocean keeps it from being oppressive. It is a perfect night for this. For anything.
He's content to take the time to relax, knowing - more or less - what he'll be in for once the powder kicks in. He keeps up a conversation if it seems like Caleb wants one, knowing at the very least they have enough in common as arcanists for it to be interesting rather than just empty small talk.
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Tonight, playing at meeting Yussa for the first time again, but this time as a fully realized version of himself, that magnetic pull is undeniable and intense right from the start. They look at each other, drifting between engaging conversation and comfortable quiet as Yussa strokes fingers through the dark red hair on his chest and Caleb's thumb rubs back and forth against his spine, and Caleb feels something beneath his skin like an electric current, or the weave of magic touching flesh. (He is pretty sure it is not the drugs. Not solely, anyway.)
Somehow he knows that if this night were real, if they were actually the versions of themselves they are pretending to be, he would still feel whatever that is, a powerfully physical and emotional and intellectual connection. If he was the Caleb Widogast who spent months working for the means to spend a night in this man's bed, he knows that he would be falling in love right now.
When love happens to him, it is always like that. Hard and fast and bordering on obsessive, and against whatever reason he may wish to apply.
Caleb enjoys the conversation for a bit, but does eventually slip into a light doze. It's not quite sleep, as he still retains a fuzzy awareness of sensations and thoughts, but he lets his mind slip into a more restful state where he doesn't examine these things, letting them drift away as quickly as they occur. Most importantly, he can still check the time and make sure he isn't wasting too much of it. But he really wrecked and exhausted Yussa in that last round in a way he never has before. Giving him some time to recover before they continue seems less like a courtesy than a necessity.
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Perhaps it's for the best he isn't trying to trance. Yussa is still very aware of the lingering ache in his body, the desire for fulfillment despite their last round. Or perhaps because of it. He resists the urge to touch himself while Caleb dozes, determined to give the other man that control and pleasure himself. It's very tempting, though, especially when it's easy to slip his leg over Caleb's and to feel the slight pressure of his patron's thigh between his own. He doesn't press or grind the way he wants to, and he's not sure if acknowledging this is worse than letting it fade.
Yussa breaths a soft sigh and lets go of the feeling, the thought, as best he can. He keeps his own mind on the time, but he isn't worried. If Caleb is determined not to rest too long, Yussa has no doubt his lover's internal clock will rattle him when it's time.
He listens to the sound of Caleb's breathing, focusing on that rather than his heart as it's more likely to tell him when the other man is coming around. He'll slip out of his meditation when he catches the change.
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Caleb's awareness begins to sharpen some time after that--a little more than an hour, according to his internal clock--and his breathing changes from the slow, deep cadence of rest to shorter and shallower breaths as he wakes fully. It was a relatively short amount of time, just as he wanted, but it was enough that he does feel somewhat noticeably rejuvenated. Almost a surprise to him, his cock has firmed up in that time to at least half stiffness with no prompting. That maybe is the drugs.
His eyes open, but he doesn't move, still laying there on his back with Yussa tucked against and partially over him, but takes stock of what he notices about his body, because certainly, Yussa's Issylran plant concoction has fully hit his system by now. In addition to the obvious arousal, there is some restlessness, some insistence from his body, but not much more so than if he'd woken half hard in any other context. He isn't exceptionally uncomfortable or desperate. He feels in perfect control of himself and his desires.
He does very much want to fuck, though.
Reaching down with his free arm, he adjusts the way his erection lays against his belly, feeling a twitch and pulse of pleasure as it begins to plump up more now that he is actively noticing and planning to do something about it. His hand lingers. All right, fine--he indulges, just a little, in gently squeezing the hardening shaft and rolling his balls in his hand, and his body absolutely lights up from within, a signal traveling through his nerves like a message along copper wire.
Okay, maybe there is a little something extra to this, but Caleb's previous assessment still stands. There's no distress or frenzied need; it just feels good.
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"Feeling rested?" he asks, his voice warm and low. Caleb looks good lying beside him, beneath him, enjoying himself in such an effortless way. Gods, this was a good idea.
Yussa shifts carefully so that he can prop himself up on his elbow, careful to avoid the arm still around him. He flicks his gaze down to Caleb's quickly firming cock pointedly before meeting his gaze again. He leans down to give Caleb a light kiss that could be mistaken for chaste if not for the heat of his cunt pressed against Caleb's thigh. His own arousal has come rushing back now that he's certain the powder is working as it should. It's always gratifying when a series of experiments works the way he wanted them to. He's almost certain Caleb will want to know more details after this, as he knows he hasn't forgotten that day.
"And feeling good, I see."
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