Caleb buries his fingers in his lover's soaked cunt with gradually increasing ease as he coaxes tight walls to stretch, pressing deep against the eager squeeze of fluttering muscle with every shameless little rock of Yussa's hips. The sound is excitingly lewd, and Caleb feels the heavy heat of arousal burning in his gut again with increasing intensity.
Yussa seems lost to the sensation, helplessly insatiable now that his cunt is full--his cunt and his ass both, as Caleb could hardly forget when he can feel the solid weight of the plug against his fingers. He's a creature of lustful need, grinding against the bed and against his patron's hand with equal enthusiasm.
He'd given Yussa only two fingers before fucking him for the first time earlier, which made for a delicious stretch for them both. But now that he has the plug inside him as well, it will be a tight fit regardless. It seems a much better idea to prepare him more thoroughly--even if Yussa is easily as wet as he's ever seen him.
"Gods, schatz, you are dripping," Caleb observes appreciatively in a low husk, punctuated by a telling slick noise as he pulls his fingers out to add a third. "I am going to give you a little more, but I do not want you coming until my cock is in you. Can you promise that?" Any confirmation from Yussa will see him reentering his cunt with all three fingers angled to stroke deliberately along the thin inner wall separating them from the plug in his ass, just to make Yussa very aware of how far from empty he is now.
Yussa whines in the back of his throat as Caleb works a third finger into him while telling that he can't come. He nods weakly, then gasps out: "Yes."
With three of Caleb's fingers he feels so full, and he can barely think at all when he imagines having his patron's cock instead. The sound of Caleb's fingers moving in and out of him is wet and lewd and perfect. Louder still is his own ragged breathing, another moan escaping as his lover's fingers rub against the plug through his body. His hips jerk - it isn't oversensitivity but gods, it's a lot. Slick walls squeeze around Caleb's fingers and Yussa can feel the stretch as they coax his body to yield further still. There is no possible way he could feel empty now.
Still, he can't quite stop moving, weakly grinding against Caleb's fingers and the bed with every rock of his hips. He knows how he must look, flushed and panting and needy, his cunt slick and glistening with his own slick, Caleb's come, and whatever oil has spilled over him with Caleb's liberal application elsewhere.
This isn't the first time his lover has ruined him to the point of being inarticulate, but the entire mood of the night is different. The approach, the frame they've given themselves for this, make it new.
The framing of this night has changed everything. With the explicit permission granted by his role as Yussa's paying client, Caleb has dared to do things tonight he's barely even thought of before. It's thrilling, and clearly not just for him. Yussa has been in a state right from the start, deeply affected by the fantasy, and now he is--well, he's so wet he's dripping onto the sheets, so Caleb must be doing something right. Given the apparent success of this endeavor, he wonders if they might do it again sometime. He would be more surprised if they didn't; all this talk of saving to see Yussa again practically begs a sequel.
For now, Caleb exists firmly and indulgently in the moment, long limbs spread across expensive sheets, watching raptly as he makes the beautiful courtesan he's obsessed over for months squirm. He's paid dearly for the privilege of fingering this man's cunt, and he is getting his money's worth.
"Fuck, look at you. I have never seen anything so gorgeous," he praises with rough, breathless wonder. His fingers drag slowly in and out, in and out, fucking his own come into him as he patiently works his tight passage open. He leans closer to suck lightly on the pointed tip of Yussa's ear before nuzzling a touch lower, lips brushing the outer shell. "I love how much you enjoy this. A man like you with a mind like yours doesn't have to spread his legs for a living. You do it because you love it."
Caleb's fingers crook inside him. Perhaps he is cheating a little by already knowing where to rub along his soft walls to make his legs quiver and his toes curl, but he doesn't think Yussa will mind.
"But when you could have booked one of your wealthy, influential patrons tonight, you chose me instead," he continues, a rough rasp with tenderness beneath. "Are you growing bored of the way they fuck you, Yussa? Were you hoping a man who knows what a privilege it is to touch you would remind you how desire feels?"
He was not expecting Caleb to keep talking, but gods, he should have. His patron can be very evocative just in the way he speaks to him and, especially now, Yussa is easily swept up in it. He shivers at the sweet attention to the tip of his ear, but then Caleb's fingers curl and Yussa's small body tenses up beneath him. His hands grip the blankets in a reflexive spasm of muscle and he drags in a ragged breath as his patron tells him that he must enjoy this work to do it.
In this fantasy they've created, surely that must be so. Yussa is old enough to have amassed wealth regardless of his profession, there would be no need to support himself like this. But it isn't about need, not for him and not for others under the roof of the Lavish Chateau. He enjoys this, he does it because he wants to and because it is quite lucrative. All he can do is pant and listen as Caleb works his cunt open for his cock.
"Yes," he gasps out, struggling to pull enough thoughts together to properly speak. He wets his lips, trying to regain a shred of composure. "They--they do not know what they have."
It isn't difficult to imagine getting bored with even well-paying clients. Yussa has known the Ruby long enough to have heard plenty of stories, and it's her prerogative to keep clients or cut them off, but the latter leads to a reputation most professionals would rather avoid. One doesn't want to be seen as difficult, after all. Not unless that is what their patron wants. And what Caleb wants is to enjoy what he's earned, to know that he is leaving a mark that will linger in his absence. Yussa thinks hearing that he is the one to remind this courtesan of the pleasure he takes in his work is something Caleb would carry with him when he leaves. Slick walls bear down around Caleb's fingers the next time they press deep and Yussa can't help but moan.
"They--" He moans again, tense beneath his lover as he struggles to keep away from the edge of orgasm. "They see a--a status symbol."
They can afford him, like they can afford art or fine clothes, and while not all of his patrons are boring, it isn't difficult to imagine that many are... perhaps not as appreciative as they could be. Caleb, however, is not taking him for granted.
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Yussa seems lost to the sensation, helplessly insatiable now that his cunt is full--his cunt and his ass both, as Caleb could hardly forget when he can feel the solid weight of the plug against his fingers. He's a creature of lustful need, grinding against the bed and against his patron's hand with equal enthusiasm.
He'd given Yussa only two fingers before fucking him for the first time earlier, which made for a delicious stretch for them both. But now that he has the plug inside him as well, it will be a tight fit regardless. It seems a much better idea to prepare him more thoroughly--even if Yussa is easily as wet as he's ever seen him.
"Gods, schatz, you are dripping," Caleb observes appreciatively in a low husk, punctuated by a telling slick noise as he pulls his fingers out to add a third. "I am going to give you a little more, but I do not want you coming until my cock is in you. Can you promise that?" Any confirmation from Yussa will see him reentering his cunt with all three fingers angled to stroke deliberately along the thin inner wall separating them from the plug in his ass, just to make Yussa very aware of how far from empty he is now.
no subject
With three of Caleb's fingers he feels so full, and he can barely think at all when he imagines having his patron's cock instead. The sound of Caleb's fingers moving in and out of him is wet and lewd and perfect. Louder still is his own ragged breathing, another moan escaping as his lover's fingers rub against the plug through his body. His hips jerk - it isn't oversensitivity but gods, it's a lot. Slick walls squeeze around Caleb's fingers and Yussa can feel the stretch as they coax his body to yield further still. There is no possible way he could feel empty now.
Still, he can't quite stop moving, weakly grinding against Caleb's fingers and the bed with every rock of his hips. He knows how he must look, flushed and panting and needy, his cunt slick and glistening with his own slick, Caleb's come, and whatever oil has spilled over him with Caleb's liberal application elsewhere.
This isn't the first time his lover has ruined him to the point of being inarticulate, but the entire mood of the night is different. The approach, the frame they've given themselves for this, make it new.
no subject
For now, Caleb exists firmly and indulgently in the moment, long limbs spread across expensive sheets, watching raptly as he makes the beautiful courtesan he's obsessed over for months squirm. He's paid dearly for the privilege of fingering this man's cunt, and he is getting his money's worth.
"Fuck, look at you. I have never seen anything so gorgeous," he praises with rough, breathless wonder. His fingers drag slowly in and out, in and out, fucking his own come into him as he patiently works his tight passage open. He leans closer to suck lightly on the pointed tip of Yussa's ear before nuzzling a touch lower, lips brushing the outer shell. "I love how much you enjoy this. A man like you with a mind like yours doesn't have to spread his legs for a living. You do it because you love it."
Caleb's fingers crook inside him. Perhaps he is cheating a little by already knowing where to rub along his soft walls to make his legs quiver and his toes curl, but he doesn't think Yussa will mind.
"But when you could have booked one of your wealthy, influential patrons tonight, you chose me instead," he continues, a rough rasp with tenderness beneath. "Are you growing bored of the way they fuck you, Yussa? Were you hoping a man who knows what a privilege it is to touch you would remind you how desire feels?"
no subject
In this fantasy they've created, surely that must be so. Yussa is old enough to have amassed wealth regardless of his profession, there would be no need to support himself like this. But it isn't about need, not for him and not for others under the roof of the Lavish Chateau. He enjoys this, he does it because he wants to and because it is quite lucrative. All he can do is pant and listen as Caleb works his cunt open for his cock.
"Yes," he gasps out, struggling to pull enough thoughts together to properly speak. He wets his lips, trying to regain a shred of composure. "They--they do not know what they have."
It isn't difficult to imagine getting bored with even well-paying clients. Yussa has known the Ruby long enough to have heard plenty of stories, and it's her prerogative to keep clients or cut them off, but the latter leads to a reputation most professionals would rather avoid. One doesn't want to be seen as difficult, after all. Not unless that is what their patron wants. And what Caleb wants is to enjoy what he's earned, to know that he is leaving a mark that will linger in his absence. Yussa thinks hearing that he is the one to remind this courtesan of the pleasure he takes in his work is something Caleb would carry with him when he leaves. Slick walls bear down around Caleb's fingers the next time they press deep and Yussa can't help but moan.
"They--" He moans again, tense beneath his lover as he struggles to keep away from the edge of orgasm. "They see a--a status symbol."
They can afford him, like they can afford art or fine clothes, and while not all of his patrons are boring, it isn't difficult to imagine that many are... perhaps not as appreciative as they could be. Caleb, however, is not taking him for granted.