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foulplayed) wrote2020-11-25 10:15 pm
foulplayed) wrote2020-11-25 10:15 pm
INBOX
Β« mocking.bird Β»
TEXT β§ AUDIO β§ VIDEO β§ ACTION
Yuri Leclerc β¦ Fire Emblem: Three HousesRESIDENCE β¦ Emerald District
GEMBOND β¦ Amethyst
"Leave it."
INFO β§ PERMISSIONS β§ KINKLIST β§ EXTRA
no subject
( Crooked and a little kiss-stupid is right, but Yuri's beginning to wonder whether he doesn't think Balthus might be at his best this way. There's something about that giddy softness in those dark eyes β that adoring expression, like a man bewitched β that makes Yuri feel like this is something he could do for the rest of his life, and his smile softens around the edges as he slides his hand along the cut-glass line of his jaw.
Yeah. That big, silly, radiant smile? It's the kind of smile a person would fight for. )
On the house? Do I look like a charity to you, von Albrecht?
( But now Yuri's laughing too, his free hand balling into a small fist that he thumps into Balthus's arm. It's good to joke with him like this β good to finally be able to talk and tease each other about whatever they please β and all of a sudden Yuri feels a little foolish for how hard he worked to keep the other man at arm's length.
If this is what it's like for Balthus to really know him ...
Maybe this moment what their friendship has been waiting for. Maybe now they'll be able to support each other in the ways they've deserved all along. )
C'mon, put me down. I'll see how I feel when we get back to my place β maybe you've got a little luck left in you yet.
( Balthus, you're getting laid. You're getting so very, very, laid, and then you're getting all your money back in a one-off payment that Yuri probably won't mention unless asked. )
no subject
Well, hey, when the dice are rolling your way, you don't stop rolling.
[But he does step away from the wall, easing Yuri back down until his sneakers touch the concrete like he's a priceless work of art and not a man, and before he can get away entirely, Balthus brings his hands to hold Yuri's face and bends to press a surprisingly affectionate kiss to his forehead.]
You did great up there tonight. Not that you didn't already know that, but hey. Someone oughta tell you anyway.
[And rather than linking arms, he opts instead to sling one of his around Yuri's shoulders, drawing him in close and snug against his side for the walk back home.]
no subject
Thanks, B. I'm up there around three nights a week, so any time you feel like swinging by again ...
( Yuri tosses a wink up at Balthus as he settles in for the walk home, his own arm slung around the other man's waist as they make their way back to the Emerald District. It's kind of funny, really, that the Underground feels so much more like home than the gleaming city of Sumarlok - but then he supposes as much is to be expected, considering where he's lived for the last five years.
They chat as they walk: Yuri asks after the ladies at the spa before giving Balthus a quick run-down of the Gems he's met working at the club, but around twenty minutes of shooting the shit sees them heading across the driveway to the glass-panelled door of Yuri's home. )
... Hey. This was nice.
( He says lightly, as the lights in the foyer rise to an amber glow in response to the front door being unlocked. There's a soft 'thud' from his bag as he slings it onto the lilac chaise while toeing out of his sneakers: )
It's been kind of hard to find a moment to just have a catch-up, huh? What with everything else that's been going on.
( A soft smile touches Yuri's lips as he closes the distance between them, one hand reaching for the front of Balthus's shirt so he can tug him down for another playful little kiss. )
Mm. Take me upstairs, handsome.
no subject
[You know, he's never really seen much benefit in shirts, but the way Yuri grabs onto his and uses it as leverage is precisely the kind of thing that could turn his opinion right around. But aside from the kisses — which are definitely welcome, but relatively new — this little cadence of Yuri's is familiar, too. He's seen it from the vantage point of his mattress often enough, Yuri rolling in late and scattering belongings like a tree shedding leaves while he works his way towards flopping down into bed himself.
It's a dance he already knows the steps to, so he falls into it easily himself. His own bag joins Yuri's on the chaise, and his boots get kicked off in the relative vicinity of the door; beneath the more reliable lamplight of the foyer, he lifts his hand and flexes it experimentally, checking for damage to his knuckles or anything he might've missed between the adrenaline and the trickier neon of the club.
Nothing too bad, all told. He'll ache a little bit tomorrow, sure, but it'll help him sleep. So will the sex that they're definitely going to have as soon as he gets Yuri upstairs, which reminds him that he really ought to get on that.]
We're not still playing like we were at the club, are we? I seem to recall Crystal making me some promises she's yet to deliver on.
[Without preamble, he bends and scoops Yuri up in a princess carry, absently making sure the door is shut and locked behind them before heading for the stairs as bidden.]
Something about making me forget all my aches and pains?
no subject
( Yuri lets himself be scooped up into the cradle of Balthus's arms with an amused chuckle. )
You're thinking you didn't get your money's worth, hm? Don't worry β she doesn't make promises she won't keep.
( Soft lips brush against Balthus's jaw as he takes them up the stairs, easy as anything, before pulling back just enough to point along the hallway to his room. He's fortunate that his friend is used to the way he lives: Satan shoes lie discarded around the mirror in commemoration of outfits un-chosen, and his vanity is a mess of half-opened palettes, cotton pads, and lipsticks, for which he really needs to invest in some kind of storage. In the corner, a satin gown lays draped over the back of the chair, and his bathrobe spills across the floor in a crumpled heap just in front of a half-open wardrobe.
The bed in the centre of it all is an over-the-top, four-poster thing β but it appears as though Yuri at least went to the trouble of making it after he got up for the day. It's scattered with pointless cushions in various shades of burgundy, purple, and red, the whole look finished with what looks to be a crumpled camisole set sticking out from beneath one of them. )
... Ta-dah.
( A fingertip tilts Balthus's face towards him again so that he can steal another sultry little kiss: )
How about you get nice and comfortable on the bed, Showtime, and I'll show you what I meant.
no subject
Bet you can't guess where they came up with "Showtime".
[Or probably he can; if anyone could arrive at the right conclusion, it's likely Yuri. But it's still a way of filling the air as he gets up onto the mattress, letting his long legs dangle over the edge while he leans back on his hands.]
This all right? Just tell me how you want me.
no subject
( Yuri just tosses Balthus a smirk as he dims the lighting to a soft amber glow, before moving towards the bed in the same slow, easy glide that brought him to his friends lap back at the club. He loses the leggings as he goes; peeling out of them is easy, and the hem of his sweatshirt skims low enough that his modesty remains preserved. )
I'm gonna go with ... because you're pretty good at making a spectacle of it whenever you knock someone clean out?
( It's a warm, affectionate tease, and he strokes the backs of his knuckles along his friend's cheekbone before easing forwards again. Yuri puts a knee on the mattress beside Balthus so that he can settle over his lap, pale thighs spread and their hips flush but for the few layers between them. )
And this is perfect. In fact, I'd say I've got you right where I want you.
( His hands move between them to curl around the hem of his sweatshirt, which he pulls up and off over his head in a practiced, fluid motion. The removal of the shapeless garment reveals what Yuri had been hiding underneath: the pretty purple straps of his stage outfit cling to the smooth lines of his body, but this time his hair is a mess, his lipstick is ruined, and he's a feast for the eyes of one man as opposed to a club full of hopefuls.
A lazy swirl of the hips is all it takes to rub them together, and the corner of Yuri's lips lifts into a smirk that flashes sharp as he drapes his arms over his friend's shoulders. )
You can touch me all you want, now.
no subject
The warmer yellowish light flatters Yuri, Balthus muses. It reminds him of candlelight, softer and more golden than the harsh blue-white fluorescence that the majority of Sumarlok seems to prefer. More like home, like being back in the sparse but familiar comfort of Abyss. It helps him to unwind, as he unconsciously releases another layer of tension he hadn't really realized he'd even been holding.]
Yeah, you got it. Funny, isn't it? People thinking I'm the one good at putting on a show.
[He shifts his weight, adjusting to keeping himself upright with just one hand while the other arm slips around Yuri's waist. When he starts to rock his hips up in response to Yuri's teasing — too slow to stoke arousal from a smolder to an open blaze, but enough to keep their hips pressing together, enough to keep Yuri moving in his lap like the suggestion of a dance all in itself — his intentions don't take long to become clear.
Lazily, his lips find their way to Yuri's throat again, wanting to coax those same pretty sounds of approval from his throat like he'd done in the alley. He doesn't usually take foreplay so slow, truth be told, but — well, maybe he just wants to savor a little.]
Tell me you wanted this all night. That you wanted to drop the act and just come be with me.
no subject
It wasn't obvious?
( Yuri tilts his head for Balthus again, his lashes fluttering low as he opens the front of his throat for the searing press of his lips. A soft little whine sticks in the back of his throat he's teased with a gentle suck β but this time when he smiles there's a flash of teeth as violet eyes seek out warm brown. )
From the moment I saw you sitting there, B. Kind of rude of you to barge into my workplace looking like that ...
( Soft hands skim over the impressive hardness of his bare biceps β but a fighter like Balthus will be able to feel the calluses worn into his palms by years of dirty swordplay. Yuri has always been a mess of contradictions β he's soft and sharp, gentle and vicious, ready to help an old lady with her groceries after using the same hands to execute a loan shark β but tonight? None of that really matters.
Tonight he's just Yuri, and he's just Balthus's. )
Looking at me like that.
( His cock flushes warm under the thin scrap of material covering his crotch β warmer still when he feels an answering throb from the man underneath him. One hand slips between them to unfasten Balthus's trousers with a smooth little twist: )
I wanted to make sure you wouldn't look at any of the other girls the way you looked at me β and that I'd be the one to take you home.
no subject
[It's his turn to sigh as Yuri's hands start to explore his body, less the tantalizing suggestion that they'd been in the club, and more just enjoying the fact that he can. It's been long enough now since his fights that the familiar post-grapple ache is starting to set into his muscles, but the gentleness of Yuri's touch makes for a lovely contrast with the twinge of satisfied use.
There hadn't been time for this, that day at the lake; they'd both been far too worked up, craving too strongly for instant gratification. The slower burn of rubbing up against each other, feeling each other out, talking while they're at it — now that's a whole different kind of addicting.
Enough so that he draws back after a while, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack and lips slightly parted, and thinks about how it would feel to just give himself over completely into Yuri's deft hands and see what comes of it when he does.]
It always feels good to win, but...when you looked at me, that's what made me feel like a winner.
[He bites down on his lip, unmindful of the split and earning himself a sting of protest for it, as his trousers come open and his cock is set free to tent its interest more emphatically in his shorts.]
I used to dream about nights like tonight, years back. Gold in my pocket, someone gorgeous angling to catch my eye...being somebody, you know? Hah...so I guess that makes you a dream come true.
no subject
( Yuri's chest aches at the sad truth in Balthus's confession β not because it's come as a surprise, as such, but because it's refocusing what he'd thought of his friend's actions in the past.
He just wanted to be someone, huh? No wonder he spent his evenings in Abyss wooing women, getting into back-street fighting, or trying to prove he could out-bet anyone in rowdy nights of dice and drinks. No wonder he's styled himself as the Undefeated King of Grappling β a title he's rightly earned, if Yuri's fair about it β it's just ...
Painful, to finally realise where that bravado has been coming from. )
Hey. Listen to me.
( Yuri tilts Balthus's face up towards him and catches his lips in a searing kiss, one hand cupping the curve of his cheek as the other settles warm against his chest. )
You're someone to me, yeah? Hapi too, and our dear Shady Lady β you matter, Balthus. More than I can say. It's on me that I never really told you that.
( It's on him that he played his hand all but pressed flush against his chest, and it's on him that he let his friends believe he saw them more as acquaintances than family. The idea that someone as radiant and earnest as Balthus saw himself as a nobody ...
No. Not now. Yuri pushes that thought to the side, unwilling to let the bits and pieces he's heard about his past spoil the intimacy of the moment. )
Anyway, I've got a lot of years to make up for, so I'm gonna need you to take these offβ
( He grins, tossing a little wink in Balthus's direction as he tugs at his now open trousers. A moment later sees him sliding off his lap to hang off the side of his mattress; he rummages for something under the bed before righting himself again, after which he briefly dips into the drawer of his disorganised bedside table.
Satin ribbon from his dressing gown: check.
Lube: check.
When he turns back to the bed properly, he leans in close to drop a kiss against Balthus's earlobe: )
And get comfortable.
no subject
What kind of idiot would he have to be, to think about anything else when he could be thinking about Yuri kissing him like that?
It's only afterward, when Yuri slides off of him and starts roaming the room, that he really manages to gather up his thoughts, and by then it's already too late; the moment is over, and the warmth has nested in his chest, and he'd have to be an even bigger idiot to stay ruminating about implications of melancholy when Yuri is telling him to take his pants off.]
Dunno how I could be anything but comfortable, on a bed this nice.
[But still, he sits up enough to work his trousers off, and after a moment's thought opts to just strip down entirely, shucking off the rest of his clothes and depositing them in a careless pile on the floor near the foot of the bed, in favor of just lounging around bare and brazen. Why not? He looks damn good; nothing about this iron bod to be ashamed of.
Besides, it means he can sneak a few subtle strokes of his cock while he's waiting, just for fun, until Yuri turns back and he's got to behave again.
Which he does, eyeing up the lube and the ribbon carefully, but not without a visible hint of interested anticipation.]
Looks to me like you're up to something.
[But he does make himself comfortable anyway, getting himself up onto the mattress proper and lying out on his back, as much so that he can look up at Yuri through lowered lashes as anything else.]
no subject
( Yuri allows himself a moment to just soak up the sight of Balthus reclining in the middle of his bed. Seiros, but without the jorts and Devilish attributes he looks like some lascivious sculpture of a forgotten Saint - the kind that the Church would have kept strictly under lock and key for fear of stirring up desire should anyone catch sight of him. Yuri crawls closer, kneels beside him, and slides a palm up the meat of his thigh: )
I mean, I'm clearly not the only one who's "up" to something.
( He replies lightly, but the overly-pleased smirk on his lips suggests that, yeah, he's aware that was a terrible line. There's hunger in his gaze as he lets it rakenover his friend from top to toe, lingering over the rock-hard cut of his abs and the swell of his dick as he holds it in a large palm.
... Whichever gods are left, give him strength. )
I've gotta say, you're making it kind of difficult for me to stick to my plan, B.
( His attention flits up to his face again as he begins to peel out of his strappy little outfit. It doesn't take much - a tug here, a little shimmy there - and he tosses it to the floor before crawling forwards to settle himself astride Balthus's hips. It brings their cocks together, tight and hot in that little gap between their bodies, and Yuri let's himself indulge in a few lazy thrusts as he plucks at a tight pink nipple. )
... I want to show you how good being with me can be.
( His free hand splays against Balthus abs as glances down between his thighs, his own cock looking kind of cute dwarfed as it is by the thick heft of his friend. Yuri exhales softly, feels himself twitch with want as he rubs them together that bit faster, before finally lowering a hand to stroke them together in a few teasing little pulls. )
Trust me, yeah?
( Yuri's smirk turns playful as he lets go of their cocks so that he can reach for the bottle of lube. )
Let me take care of you.
no subject
[How is it possible, he thinks idly as he watches the lavender garment go the way of all the rest of their clothes, forgotten on the floor, a problem for another time — how is it possible that Yuri looks incredible in every permutation of everything he's ever worn, regardless of how much or how little he's worn to begin with? It seems to defy belief, and yet here he is, pale and real and pleasantly solid as he settles back into his favorite place over Balthus's hips.
This will be the second time now that he's put himself in Yuri's hands, blindly embracing whatever plans he might have and whatever pleasure might be born of it. Last time he ripped a chunk out of a dock; he'll have to be careful not to make the same mistake with all these nice pillows.
But it's hard not to settle into the dreamy rhythm of their cocks brushing together, or of the more deliberate caress of Yuri's palm when he eventually reaches for them. It's just another way of feeling good, and he's happy to give himself over to it.
And then Yuri says trust me, and the whole world stops for a second while his heart skips a beat.
It's an echo of what he'd said himself in the alley, true. But it's also a memory of a kiss by the dockside, of unprecedented panic as he'd been dragged into the deep — and the recollection of just how all right he'd been when Yuri had known something he hadn't and set out to take care of them both.
It's a nice memory, for all that it'd been terrifying in the moment. Thinking about it makes goosebumps rise up on his arms, and his throat bob as he swallows back his anticipation.]
You know that saying about too much of a good thing?
[He grins a little, the corner of one side of his mouth cocking up, and he absently reaches to run his thumb over one of his own nipples just for the spark of sensation while he waits patiently to see where this will go.]
Whoever said it obviously never met you.
no subject
( Yuri thinks he'll let him watch for this part.
The decision isn't entirely altruistic: Yuri likes being watched, likes being seen as he both gives ant takes pleasure, and while the idea of covering Balthus's eyes for the whole thing is tempting? He wants him to see the full extent of how much he'd wished he could shrug off his job and give the whole of his evening to him. )
A dream come true, a good thing you'll never have too much of ... ( He shakes his head. ) You're gonna have to stop, Balthus, otherwise I'll start getting all sorts of ideas about how much you like me.
( It isn't that he doesn't believe his sincerity β no, it couldn't be so simple as that β but rather the fact that it's still difficult to hear it coming from someone whose opinion actually matters. Sure, plenty of men (and his fair share of women) have lavished him with praise while he's stroked them to pleasure, but they were never anything more than passing voices murmuring into a well-hidden storm.
Balthus's words, on the other hand, cut straight through the tumult to his core. Those other people didn't know anything about the life he lived outside of their encounters; they couldn't possibly understand how little he deserved their praise.
This man does, and still he speaks to him with that same reverence. It's not something he feels ready for just yet. )
Anyway, go ahead and recommend me to that person β maybe I'd be able to change their mind.
( Yuri's teeth skim over his bottom lip as he watches Balthus toy with himself β just a little tease β before sliding down his thighs to pepper a trail of kisses over the rise of his chest. Everything about Balthus speaks of strength: Yuri can feel it against his lips as he idles over his pectorals, sucking lightly at a nipple, then directs his attention downwards over the ridge of his abs.
Gently revenant, Yuri shoulders his way between his friend's thighs until they're bent and framing his face. From this vantage point Balthus seems all the more like some kind of luxuriant deity; the warmth rolling from him is palpable, and the scent of hot skin and male arousal leaves him feeling positively dizzy with want. Soft lips pepper the inside of his thighs with a flurry of little kisses as he works his way up to his prize, laying thick and heavy and utterly delicious at the juncture of Balthus's hip.
This time, those kisses are scattered over the underside of his dick. Yuri takes his time, evidently set on enjoying every generous inch of him, before parting his lips to swallow down as much as he can fit in the slick of his mouth.
It isn't like the lake. Yuri isn't teasing him for the sake of it, he's pleasing him because he can, and those manicured fingertips slide along the outside of Balthus's thighs before splaying against each hip as he groans around him and sucks. )
no subject
It only occurs to him, belatedly, that Yuri might feel similarly, at least at a time like this. He's sure it hadn't been an act the day at the docks, when Yuri's eyes had gone heated and smoldering with satisfaction while he'd sucked Balthus's soul out through his dick. And this doesn't feel like an act, either, because what it feels like is worship — passion prayers that Seiros sure as hell never condoned.
He wants to do a lot of things, while Yuri works his way down his body, kissing and licking and making him shiver. He wants to prop up on his elbows, maybe reach down and pet his messy hair into an even wilder mane. He wants to think about Yuri slicking on a fresh coat of lipstick and doing it all again, this time with smudged rings of evidence left behind on his skin as a testament to every place his mouth touched.
But then he thinks about all the little flashes of affection he's seen Yuri flash throughout the course of the night — the concern he'd shown for the bruised cheek and cut lip, the insistence on making him comfortable, the soft reassurance that he means something — and he thinks, what if for a little while, he tried just accepting it? What if he were to just lie still and come undone beneath the attention of someone who means more to him than...than just about anything?
Acceptance feels like breathing underwater.
He keeps his eyes closed, and his breath starts to shift into shudders and moans.]
Yuri...
[He whines — whines! — when Yuri spreads his legs and starts to tease, torn between aching for the bolder pleasure of that attention finally reaching his cock, and wanting the avoidance of it to go on and on for another eternity. It's all at once too much and not enough, and his every desire is a contradiction.
He tries to stay still, but he can't, not when wet heat finally slides down around him and the phantom drag of nails is still echoing on his nerves. At first his hips jerk clumsily, his muscles visibly going taught as he reacts, but then he settles again as the press of Yuri's hands reminds him to behave himself.
The messy wet sucking noises are louder, now that they're not competing with the lap of the surf against the poles of a dock. The bed is soft beneath him and every time Yuri moves his mouth it sends a new wave of sin washing up to blanket him, and the only thing he has to give back is the symphony of sounds stirred up in his throat and falling from his mouth in begging approval, and he can only just hope that it's enough.]
no subject
( Yuri will later swear that he feels the moment Balthus gives in to the offer of being the one taken care of. It's a soft melting of his muscles before they tense up again with pleasure; a moan follows, then another, and all of a sudden the lewd slurp of his mouth on his cock is joined by the straining sound of his need.
In hindsight, it's really no surprise that Balthus is an enthusiastically vocal lover. There's little about him that isn't big and bright and full of energy; the fact that he moans his pleasure like the best of them licks a curl of heat into Yuri's belly, and his eyes slip shut for a moment as he lets himself enjoy each precious sound.
It takes him a second to realise that, more than anything, he wants to make this man fall apart underneath him. He wants Balthus like he's never seen him before: damp-cheeked and panting, his colour hectic, his thighs tight and trembling as Yuri coaxes him into sensations he's never let himself truly enjoy. Would it be easy? Perhaps, considering he's already sprawled out and gasping just from the pull of lips around his cockβ
Yuri groans softly, the whine of his own name hanging heavy between them as his own dick flexes and leaks against sheets. Seiros. What's a guy to do when his friend sounds like that β moans like that β other than pull off the stretch of his cock with a slick, wet sound, and try to get him to do it again. )
Hey.
( The pads of his fingertips smooth over his hips as Yuri gazes up at him, his cheek resting against the inside of Balthus's thigh and his lashes slung low over dark eyes. The soft lilt of his voice is a little ragged where it's been roughened up from his cock, and he draws the tip of his tongue over his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath. )
I said I'd take care of you, yeah?
( He nuzzles in a little closer, his lips dragging over the swell of his balls, the root of his cock, as a hand slips back around and between Balthus's legs to rub his thumb against his perineum. Yuri knows it feels good β there's an art to massaging a man's sweet spot from the outside, and it's one he's perfected β and his tongue skates across the shining head of his cock before treating it to a slow, messy kiss. )
Can I touch you here?
( His thumb dips lower until it kisses that tight clench of muscle. There's no pressure β he won't rub of move it until Balthus has indicated he's comfortable with it β but he does continue to press those slow, wet kisses down the length of his dick as he levels him with a molten look. With his lips sore and shining he offers a gentle smile from where he's nestled: )
Please.
no subject
It clicks when all of a sudden the epicenter of his pleasure isn't just the wet heat laving around his cock, but a different sensation still — lower, blunter, an added dimension to the heat knotting up inside of him. And it's good that it does, because it rouses him a little from the haze of arousal clouding his mind, making him lift his head a little to look down at Yuri with smoky, glassed-over eyes.
It'd be so easy to just say yes without a second thought, because he feels good and he doesn't want to surrender that, doesn't want to come up out of the arousal he's let overtake him and actually return to critical reasoning. But the fact that Yuri's asking means he deserves a better answer than an offhand, sex-slurred anything, and so Balthus tries his best to come up with something to say that doesn't involve relinquishing his dreamy fog of satisfaction altogether.]
You'd be the first.
[Which isn't a yes or a no, but it's a little important. It means he's thinking about it. It's important that Yuri knows he's thinking about it.]
...You know I trust you.
[He'd said it before — trust me — and what had followed along right on its heels was let me take care of you.
That's better than a yes or a no, he thinks vaguely. I trust you to take care of me is so much better, and so much more accurate to how he really feels.]
no subject
( Yuri pauses a moment when Balthus reveals he'd be the first person to touch him there. Is this β has he misunderstood how far he's been with other men? His confidence with Yuri's body suggests he's definitely fucked them before β among other things, he doesn't doubt β but perhaps his most recent assumption of what he and Holst got up to as teenagers has once again missed its mark. )
... Yeah?
( The first person. He'd be someone's first β not just another guy in a long line of one-night stands and quick, shame-steeped decisions. Yuri feels momentarily strange β lightheaded, almost, as affection flushes into his chest and warms his heart, because the fact that Balthus trusts him enough to let his be a first time means more to him than words could ever convey.
He reaches for the lube. A generous blob is squeezed out to warm between the pads of his thumb and forefinger: )
I want you to enjoy what we do tonight, B. If it turns out you don't like this part of it? That's okay. Just tell me, sweetness, so I know.
( Yuri also knows that patience can be helpful when it comes to this. He lets some of the lubricant dribbles over that tender spot behind his balls, where it glosses his skin and runs down between his cheeks to drip over his hole. Instead of chasing it immediately, Yuri returns to massaging his thumb against the now-slick stretch of his perineum, intent on spreading the lube in wet, lazy circles that skim a little lower with each rub. )
Good?
( Just a whisper. His dreamy gaze skims over Balthus as he watches for his reactions: the obvious, the tiny, and anything in between. When his thumb finally swirls against that little clench he leans in to tongue over his cock again, where he worships him with slick, messy licks before letting the head slip into his mouth again. )
no subject
[But it is awfully nice to know that it's, well, okay to not like things. It's nice to have the permission, because this is something fervent and precious and the last thing he would ever want is for uncertainty to be mistaken for reluctance, to be mistaken for disinterest. That's the kind of concern that really only comes up when there are feelings involved, and therefore feelings that could potentially get hurt. And at the moment he really does feel like he'd agree to just about any idea Yuri might dream up, so long as the rich haze of pleasure he's drowsing in doesn't up and disappear — but it warms him just as much to have evidence of Yuri's own care for him.
He'd promised, hadn't he? To take care of him? And he is, and not just in a tangible sense, either.
Which is awfully nice.]
H-Hey, uh...
[There's a lovely flush high in his cheeks, the angle of his head drifting to one side as he focuses more thoroughly on the exploring touches behind his balls. He's at least aware of the theory of it all, that the tempo of Yuri's fingers is as much about making sure he stays relaxed as it is out of any sort of tease, and he swallows hard and pants through his mouth before gathering up enough presence of mind to string words together again.]
Promise I'll get to kiss you again. Whatever else we do. Just promise I can kiss you one more time, yeah...?
[For perhaps the first time in his King of Grappling existence, he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. At first his fingers twist in the coverlet, careful only to wrinkle and not to rip; after that winds up unsatisfying, he tries moving one to his own chest, just gliding his fingers over his skin like he's reminding himself of the reality of his own body, the fingertips sweeping in time with the rock of his hips, the tightening of his thighs.
But the slow buildup actually helps; by the time Yuri's thumb makes it to its destination, he's so keyed up with the anticipation that he can't help but be ready for it, hungry to discover yet another new sensation to layer into the decadent experience of all the others that have come before it.
So he hitches his hips, bearing down on the slick press of his finger just a little, his own implicit encouragement to continue.]
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( There's a difference, Yuri thinks, between worrying and care. If he were worrying about Balthus he'd be much more tentative in what he's doing: there'd be hesitation on his part, perhaps even a little too much in the way of fussing over him, to the point where he might have gently tried to coax the other man out of taking this any further. Care, on the other hand, is something that sees them both as equals β and the depths of his reserves of care for Balthus are something he's only just beginning to understand. )
Just one more time? That's all you want?
( The corner of Yuri's lips lifts into a teasing little smile as he looks up at Balthus from between his legs. It's ever so sweet to watch him begin fraying around the edges: with that flush high in his cheeks and the twitch of uncertainty in his hands, Yuri finds himself feeling ...
Well. Dominant, for wont of a better word. It's a lick of control he'd never really considered extending over his friend in this way β but now that they're here, and now that they're doing this, Yuri can't imagine wanting it to end. Violet eyes take on a hazy glaze as he lets himself imagine giving Balthus his pleasure like this, night after night; as he imagines worshipping his body with his tongue, lips, and hands until he's little more than a puddle of sensation beneath him.
Yuri wants that. Goddess, Yuri wants to be able to give this to Balthus whenever he needs reminding that he's worth somethingβ
But then he arches down to push himself against him, and Yuri's thoughts are pulled back into the present again. )
I promise you'll get your kiss. You look so beautiful like this, y'know? I always knew you were handsome β I told you I'd thought about you before, didn't I β but, Saints above ...
( His free hand soothes along Balthus's outer thigh as he replaces his thumb with his index finger, which he swirls around the wetness of his hole before gently crooking it inside. A tight breath sticks in the back of his throat at the immediate heat that grips at the tip; Yuri flutters kisses over his balls and up the meat of his shaft as he eases it out, then presses back in, sinking a little further this time as he turns his head to scrape his teeth against his inner thigh. )
I'm kinda tempted to keep you here for a while to make up for lost time.
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As sensations go, it's mostly just a strange one, so far. It's not overtly pleasurable the way that having a mouth wrapped around his cock is, and it's not unexpectedly sensitive the way Yuri's fingers stroking behind his balls had been. It's not bad, and it certainly doesn't hurt, not with all the care Yuri's taking to go slow and keep him relaxed. It's just...different, and he's not quite sure what he thinks about it yet — not that he's having much luck at thinking generally, with his mind cloudy with arousal and need.
But this is what it feels like from the other side, evidently. Goddess knows he's been the one working his fingers into his partners plenty of times before, coating them with heat and wet and stroking where it's sensitive inside to make them jump. And Yuri wouldn't be doing it at all if he didn't think it was likely to feel good sooner or later, he reminds himself, so he runs his tongue over his lips and chews the corner of his mouth and tries to just let all the sensations build up on their own, without thinking too hard about them.
He'll think about Yuri's voice instead, he decides hazily. Yuri's got such a pretty voice, and now he's calling him — ]
Beautiful, huh...
[He fumbles, reaching clumsily down the length of his body and managing to find a few locks of Yuri's hair. It spills through his fingers like silk; entranced, he tries to hold onto it again, and watches it slip free another time.
It's a strangely fascinating way of feeling his arousal build. It's not fast or frenetic, no insistent burn to chase down the edge of his climax. It's more like he's warming slowly in the sun, his nerves coming alight, to the point where he's aching hard and starting to drip in his need, but the urgency just isn't there.]
You can, uh. More, and...not so slow? I think I'm liking it. I'll tell you if I don't.
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( He's thinking he's liking it, huh?
That gets a chuckle form Yuri, who doesn't need telling twice when it comes to indulging his partners in what they're enjoying. Besides, he can feel the other man's comfort for himself: the clench around his finger is tight, to be sure, but it isn't the panicked grip of a body trying to reject what's happening. He's doing well, Yuri thinks, for his first attempt at this, and he decides to take him at his word in giving him 'more' and 'not so slow.' )
If you say so.
( There's a long moment of push-pull as Yuri makes sure he's soft enough for a second finger, which he presses in alongside the first a handful of heartbeats later. It's exciting to feel Balthus's body respond both on his fingers and under his tongue; Yuri leans in to suck at him again, his head bobbing over his lap as he sinks two fingers in to the knuckle.
Honestly? Yuri doesn't really remember what that first time felt like for him. It wasn't the best experience he'd had, but it certainly wasn't the worst, which slaps it squarely in the category of "Forgettable Moments" he's had with other men.
The last thing he wants is for this to be a Forgettable Moment for Balthus, too.
Yuri's fingers press into him in a deep, easy rhythm β one that he matches with luxurious sucks that pull him up and down the dripping length of his dick. His free hand grips at the curve of Balthus's hip as he crooks his fingers inside him, his gesture beckoning, aiming for that electric bundle of nerves that'll hit him like a lightning strike. )
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Yuri's fingers hook, and brush up against something just right, and it's so sudden and sharp and good that his hips jerk and his leg kicks reflexively and he can't help but squirm and keen, shaken by the sudden electric feeling of...of whatever that had been.
That's, he realizes belatedly, what Yuri must've been up to. That's what he knew, what he had up his sleeve when he wanted to try this. That white-hot sensation, that's what he'd wanted him to feel, what he'd invited him to say was too much, if it proved to be too much.
He could come from that, easily. He will, too, if Yuri keeps crooking his fingers like that, blowjob be damned. He could just keep doing that, keep stroking him from the inside, and hell if it wouldn't feel so good to just let that happen.]
More of that. Again.
[Is he demanding, greedy? Of course he is. But that doesn't matter, does it? Not when he wants to feel that again, wants release to take him and hurl him off the precipice to drown in pleasure, and he already knows full well that Yuri isn't likely to deny him anything right now.]
Yuri...!
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( Fortunately for the both of them, Yuri's finding he very much likes this likes demanding, greedy Balthus. He likes that he's finally chasing his pleasure without thinking of propriety, generosity, or consequences; likes that his body rocks and shivers as sensation pulses outwards from his core. A lazy twist of his wrist changes up the way Balthus stretches around the press of his fingersβ )
More, huh?
( His cock slaps back against his hip with a wet little smack as Yuri lets it fall from his lips, his words panted against him even as his mouth curl into a lazy smile. Lips brush against Balthus's thigh again as though on the verge of pampering him with another kiss β only this time there's a flash of teeth, a hint of a smirk, and Yuri indulges in a bite.
His teeth press into Balthus as he pushes his fingers deep inside him again, scissoring just the once β and just a little β before rolling the pads back against the tender knot of his prostate. This time he doesn't let up: Yuri massages him firmly, his hand moving back and forth in tiny increments as he keeps the pressure steady, as his tongue laves the ring of his bite-mark in slow, soft licks all the while ignoring the shine of his dick. )
You gonna come for me, sweetness?
( A light chuckle fans over his cock as Yuri looks up at him through his lashes. )
You gonna make a mess of yourself on a pair of pretty fingers?
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