[ He wonders if Adrian even knows what he's saying, if he's doing it on purpose, playing him like he's a fucking mark, getting him to give whatever the hell it is that Adrian wants from him.
If it's pleasant, or if it hurts... I don't know that it matters.
He hates that the words get to him, that he hears if it hurts and his whole body tightens, that he hears a mark would be nice and thinks—
—the indentation of his hands at Adrian's hips.
—a heavy hand on his ass for speaking out of turn.
—a ring of bruises around his throat, around his wrists.
Violence begetting violence. Must count for something that Adrian's the one asking for it though, right? ]
Ain't no mark I could give you that would last longer than a day, right, sweetheart?
[ A reassurance, he called it, but that tells him all he needs to know about Adrian, how badly this is all fated to end. And yet. ]
But maybe... [ He fights with himself a second. Gives in. Lets his other hand slip down to Adrian's chest, lets it stop just over his nipple. ] I'd pierce you. Right here.
[ Though none of it is particularly deliberate — Adrian would consider his words far from artful — his offer seems to have an interesting effect. Eliot's response is so strong that Adrian can feel it, a kind of violent desire that he's only experienced fleetingly, himself.
Eliot's voice is rough, even around that sweetheart, sharp and mocking. Eliot most certainly wants to hurt him, but it is novel to be wanted with such intensity for something other than his magic or his nature. His eyes fall half-shut.
He doesn't move for a moment when Eliot's hand gets to his chest, the material of his shirt thick enough to blunt out anything but the faint pressure. He leans forward, pressing his chest into Eliot's hand, pulling against his hold deliberately. He wants to be touched, piercing or not. ]
You don't like me. [ It's not accusatory, just a plain statement of fact, sharp only because of the shortness of his own breath. ] I thought you would prefer knowing that this was temporary... and now you're offering a ring? You're not thinking with your head. Allow me to help you clear it.
[ Adrian opens his mouth, leans in to take Eliot's dick again. He thinks that will probably be sufficient for Eliot to be eager to shut him up, and perhaps finish.
...but he thinks about that idea. A piercing. A bruise. Being wanted to the point of violence. ]
[ No, he doesn't like him. And he definitely isn't thinking clearly. But Adrian is thinking about this backwards; it's because this is so temporary that the idea of something permanent sounds so tempting. The idea that Eliot can just... etch himself into Adrian's skin. Leave a mark that never fades. Colour everything Adrian does from here on out.
Not that he ever would. They'll do whatever it is they want to tonight and then they'll probably never see each other again and Eliot will move on with his life. Nothing to it. Same as all the other people he sleeps with.
(But to call it 'offering a ring'? Please. Obviously Eliot's not the only one not thinking clearly.)
This time his head bows low over Adrian's body, hand cupping the back of Adrian's head as his mouth sinks back down onto Eliot's cock. He doesn't force it, but he also doesn't stop it if Adrian gets a bit too eager again, starts choking around the head of his cock. He likes it. Knows that Adrian likes it too. And isn't this what it's all about in the end?
Besides, he is close. Closer, for the way Adrian takes direction so very well, for the little blooms of pleasure Eliot feels from him each time he praises him. For his mouth stretched wide, and the fan of lashes across his cheeks, and the needy way he squirms, as though his own pleasure is intrinsically liked to Eliot's. Eliot opens his mouth to warn him, and then remembers that he doesn't need to and instead just lets the feeling rise, feels his stomach tense and his thighs shake before he comes with a quiet grunt. ]
[ He knows when it happens, warmth echoing in the pit of his own stomach. There's no change in the taste on his tongue, nothing he can really feel in a physical sense, only this echo that makes it difficult to tell where he ends and Eliot begins.
The aftermath is nice; the sort of blank, unthinking pleasure he could bask in. He waits until Eliot begins to soften in his mouth before pulling back, almost reluctant.
The rest of the world slowly comes back into focus, and Adrian works his jaw against his own hand, makes a little face when he wipes some of the drool from the corners of his mouth. The uncomfortable feeling in his trousers tells him that he must have come again at some point, but he genuinely can't guess when it must have been. Probably after some sweetheart or good, just like that. With his head a little clearer, it's a bit embarrassing.
He still has a perfect view of the tip of the condom full of come and something about it is pleasing in a different way than words. That isn't something that one can lie about.
He could still go again, Adrian knows, but his stamina isn't endless and the rest of him would only like to go to bed.
Adrian shifts to the side so that he can sit on the carpet (and get out of Eliot's way) with a soft hiss of discomfort. His leg has fallen asleep, and his knees hurt. ]
...We should get ready for bed. I'm sure you don't want me here too late.
[ He swallows against the taste of latex all the way in his throat. He's too tired to think about this too much, but all he has to remember is that it doesn't mean anything, and they'll both forget about it come morning. ]
[ The motions of disposing of the used condom are automatic. Eliot drops it in the trash beside his bed and tucks himself back into his pants. He'd felt it when Adrian came too, just unending pleasure that seemed to stretch out like molasses, almost indistinguishable from his own. And now he can feel that, as tired as he is, Adrian still wants more. ]
We can get ready for bed if you want— [ He's not acknowledging that other comment; as if Eliot's gonna kick him out on the middle of the night with no way of getting anywhere and right after they'd fucked. Please. ] —or you can come here and I can make you come again.
[ He pushes himself to his feet with a faint grimace. He really should clean up and call it off there, but there's a not insignificant part of him that is always too curious for his own good. If it is only going to be one night, shouldn't he try everything? But on the other hand, Eliot is already satisfied, so what's he point?
He stops in front of Eliot, like he's not quite sure what to do with himself. ]
It doesn't really... I'm not sure of how many times I can... [ Gods, why is he trying to over-explain? He makes a vague gesture towards the bed. ] That is, you shouldn't feel obligated. I usually let it go away on its own, honestly.
[ Eliot sits down on the bed and then tugs Adrian down onto his lap. ]
You tell me. Does what I'm feeling feel like obligation to you?
[ It's insane to say the words out loud, the acknowledge the weird thing linking them, but it does have its uses. He's finding that Adrian only really hears what he wants to; it's faster to get him to come to the right conclusion by himself.
His hands settle on Adrian's hips as though magnetised. Eliot almost leans in again for a kiss before he remembers, and then exhales sharply, jaw tensing briefly. Instead, he tears a fresh condom off the strip, holding it up between them with two fingers. ]
[ Adrian goes where he's pulled, tense and careful of getting too close. There's an audible gasp from him when Eliot's hands find his hips, and then his teeth sink into his lower lip. He knows exactly what Eliot wanted to do just a moment ago, and how frustrating it is that he can't.
At the same time, Adrian finds it quietly baffling. Is it his own want, tangled in with Eliot's? Is it this strange bond that seems to have formed between them? Perhaps the most ethical thing to do would be for him to leave, or to put a stop to this until he understood... and yet. Gods grant him mercy, but he doesn't have the strength of will to resist.
He looks at the condom in Eliot's hand, then back to his face before offering the smallest nod. He all but squirms in Eliot's lap. ]
How do you want me? [ He only realizes how that sounds after the words are already out of his mouth. ]
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no subject
If it's pleasant, or if it hurts... I don't know that it matters.
He hates that the words get to him, that he hears if it hurts and his whole body tightens, that he hears a mark would be nice and thinks—
—the indentation of his hands at Adrian's hips.
—a heavy hand on his ass for speaking out of turn.
—a ring of bruises around his throat, around his wrists.
Violence begetting violence. Must count for something that Adrian's the one asking for it though, right? ]
Ain't no mark I could give you that would last longer than a day, right, sweetheart?
[ A reassurance, he called it, but that tells him all he needs to know about Adrian, how badly this is all fated to end. And yet. ]
But maybe... [ He fights with himself a second. Gives in. Lets his other hand slip down to Adrian's chest, lets it stop just over his nipple. ] I'd pierce you. Right here.
no subject
Eliot's voice is rough, even around that sweetheart, sharp and mocking. Eliot most certainly wants to hurt him, but it is novel to be wanted with such intensity for something other than his magic or his nature. His eyes fall half-shut.
He doesn't move for a moment when Eliot's hand gets to his chest, the material of his shirt thick enough to blunt out anything but the faint pressure. He leans forward, pressing his chest into Eliot's hand, pulling against his hold deliberately. He wants to be touched, piercing or not. ]
You don't like me. [ It's not accusatory, just a plain statement of fact, sharp only because of the shortness of his own breath. ] I thought you would prefer knowing that this was temporary... and now you're offering a ring? You're not thinking with your head. Allow me to help you clear it.
[ Adrian opens his mouth, leans in to take Eliot's dick again. He thinks that will probably be sufficient for Eliot to be eager to shut him up, and perhaps finish.
...but he thinks about that idea. A piercing. A bruise. Being wanted to the point of violence. ]
no subject
Not that he ever would. They'll do whatever it is they want to tonight and then they'll probably never see each other again and Eliot will move on with his life. Nothing to it. Same as all the other people he sleeps with.
(But to call it 'offering a ring'? Please. Obviously Eliot's not the only one not thinking clearly.)
This time his head bows low over Adrian's body, hand cupping the back of Adrian's head as his mouth sinks back down onto Eliot's cock. He doesn't force it, but he also doesn't stop it if Adrian gets a bit too eager again, starts choking around the head of his cock. He likes it. Knows that Adrian likes it too. And isn't this what it's all about in the end?
Besides, he is close. Closer, for the way Adrian takes direction so very well, for the little blooms of pleasure Eliot feels from him each time he praises him. For his mouth stretched wide, and the fan of lashes across his cheeks, and the needy way he squirms, as though his own pleasure is intrinsically liked to Eliot's. Eliot opens his mouth to warn him, and then remembers that he doesn't need to and instead just lets the feeling rise, feels his stomach tense and his thighs shake before he comes with a quiet grunt. ]
no subject
The aftermath is nice; the sort of blank, unthinking pleasure he could bask in. He waits until Eliot begins to soften in his mouth before pulling back, almost reluctant.
The rest of the world slowly comes back into focus, and Adrian works his jaw against his own hand, makes a little face when he wipes some of the drool from the corners of his mouth. The uncomfortable feeling in his trousers tells him that he must have come again at some point, but he genuinely can't guess when it must have been. Probably after some sweetheart or good, just like that. With his head a little clearer, it's a bit embarrassing.
He still has a perfect view of the tip of the condom full of come and something about it is pleasing in a different way than words. That isn't something that one can lie about.
He could still go again, Adrian knows, but his stamina isn't endless and the rest of him would only like to go to bed.
Adrian shifts to the side so that he can sit on the carpet (and get out of Eliot's way) with a soft hiss of discomfort. His leg has fallen asleep, and his knees hurt. ]
...We should get ready for bed. I'm sure you don't want me here too late.
[ He swallows against the taste of latex all the way in his throat. He's too tired to think about this too much, but all he has to remember is that it doesn't mean anything, and they'll both forget about it come morning. ]
no subject
We can get ready for bed if you want— [ He's not acknowledging that other comment; as if Eliot's gonna kick him out on the middle of the night with no way of getting anywhere and right after they'd fucked. Please. ] —or you can come here and I can make you come again.
no subject
He stops in front of Eliot, like he's not quite sure what to do with himself. ]
It doesn't really... I'm not sure of how many times I can... [ Gods, why is he trying to over-explain? He makes a vague gesture towards the bed. ] That is, you shouldn't feel obligated. I usually let it go away on its own, honestly.
no subject
You tell me. Does what I'm feeling feel like obligation to you?
[ It's insane to say the words out loud, the acknowledge the weird thing linking them, but it does have its uses. He's finding that Adrian only really hears what he wants to; it's faster to get him to come to the right conclusion by himself.
His hands settle on Adrian's hips as though magnetised. Eliot almost leans in again for a kiss before he remembers, and then exhales sharply, jaw tensing briefly. Instead, he tears a fresh condom off the strip, holding it up between them with two fingers. ]
So? You gonna let me?
no subject
At the same time, Adrian finds it quietly baffling. Is it his own want, tangled in with Eliot's? Is it this strange bond that seems to have formed between them? Perhaps the most ethical thing to do would be for him to leave, or to put a stop to this until he understood... and yet. Gods grant him mercy, but he doesn't have the strength of will to resist.
He looks at the condom in Eliot's hand, then back to his face before offering the smallest nod. He all but squirms in Eliot's lap. ]
How do you want me? [ He only realizes how that sounds after the words are already out of his mouth. ]