He pulled Antonio’s underwear off, one smooth and fluid movement beneath them. Antonio tried to sit up, but Francis shushed him and pressed his weight against him, both falling to the bedspread where they pushed their bodies against one another, skin soft and slick. Francis rose again and slunk down Antonio’s body, kissing and skimming lips along panting chest and quaking stomach.
Pausing at Antonio’s hips, he kissed along the join of Antonio’s pelvis and thigh, mouthed his balls with a slight smile at Antonio’s quiet noise, and finally pressed half-kisses up his length. He mouthed the tip, playful and greedy, keeping teeth out of the way.
Antonio’s breath hitched and his fingers skimmed the ends of Francis’ hair, which was falling down in his face and sticking slightly to his damp temple. Antonio never grabbed his head during fellatio, but he liked to feel Francis’ hair, his face, during the act. Francis swallowed down more and pulled up with a twist, paused to wet his lips, and continued, savoring the feel and taste. Looked up at Antonio through his eyelashes to see what each twist, each suck, lick, twirl of his tongue did. Gold and bronze danced across Antonio’s skin, even more luminescent now with its sheen of sweat - one deep swallow and Antonio arched his back a little, and it was a bit like sunset - every subtle line of rib was illuminated, last rays of light touching ocean waves or the tops of rolling hills.
Francis pulled back, sat up, and Antonio met him halfway with a hard kiss and hands at Francis’ hips. They twined their hands together and jointly pulled off Francis’ boxers, much more rough and rushed than with Antonio’s through the kisses, and Francis straddled Antonio’s waist once again. Francis broke the kiss momentarily to grab the lube and Antonio wrapped an arm around his back, mouthed his ear and nipped right below it.
Lube in hand, Francis leaned back a bit and sat up a little higher on his haunches. He slicked up his fingers while observing the upturned curve of Antonio’s mouth, the light flush on his cheeks, the heated, gold-flecked green in the dark meeting his gaze. Holding himself steady on Antonio’s shoulder, he sat up a bit more, then reached back and pressed a lubed finger into himself, smirking at the catch in Antonio’s breathing at that.
Antonio leaned forward and placed one hand on Francis’ hip, the other where his thigh and buttock met, and slid the hand behind Francis in toward the one that was already there, working itself in and out. Antonio abruptly pulled it back and with a small smile stuck his fingers in his mouth, chuckling a bit through his fingers when Francis’ gaze darkened - eyes still crinkled in a smile, he reached behind Francis once again and placed his hand over Francis’, twining them together. They looked at each other, and, communicating with their gazes, both moved a finger up and in.
A few more intimate minutes spent like that, both simply watching each other as Francis’ breathing became more and more ragged, hands tangled and up and in and close - Francis guided both of them out with an almost-inaudible moan, slicked up Antonio, and climbed onto his lap. Antonio shifted onto his knees a little more, between Francis’ thighs, gripped his hips; Francis brought his hands to the sides of Antonio’s face and they met for a rough, gasping kiss as Francis lowered himself and Antonio pushed up, barely.
They soon worked up a rhythm, not particularly fast but deep, powerful, each thrust meaning something - mouths were devouring each other, occasionally detouring to ravage necks, ears, shoulders - Francis’ hands traced sweaty patterns on Antonio’s skin in a jumping, dancing pattern -
Antonio’s hands tightened on Francis’ hips and he threw an arm around Francis’ back, hand on the back of his head, tangling in his sweaty hair - he pressed them together and let out a rough, shuddering breath, slamming them together once - twice - three times - before he stilled, breathing heavily into Francis’ jaw.
He kissed his way over between breaths to Francis’ mouth, which was waiting for him. One deep kiss and a few nips, and Antonio leaned back with a huge smile. “So,” he asked, still breathless, “what about you?”
LATFF [9e/15]
Pausing at Antonio’s hips, he kissed along the join of Antonio’s pelvis and thigh, mouthed his balls with a slight smile at Antonio’s quiet noise, and finally pressed half-kisses up his length. He mouthed the tip, playful and greedy, keeping teeth out of the way.
Antonio’s breath hitched and his fingers skimmed the ends of Francis’ hair, which was falling down in his face and sticking slightly to his damp temple. Antonio never grabbed his head during fellatio, but he liked to feel Francis’ hair, his face, during the act. Francis swallowed down more and pulled up with a twist, paused to wet his lips, and continued, savoring the feel and taste. Looked up at Antonio through his eyelashes to see what each twist, each suck, lick, twirl of his tongue did. Gold and bronze danced across Antonio’s skin, even more luminescent now with its sheen of sweat - one deep swallow and Antonio arched his back a little, and it was a bit like sunset - every subtle line of rib was illuminated, last rays of light touching ocean waves or the tops of rolling hills.
Francis pulled back, sat up, and Antonio met him halfway with a hard kiss and hands at Francis’ hips. They twined their hands together and jointly pulled off Francis’ boxers, much more rough and rushed than with Antonio’s through the kisses, and Francis straddled Antonio’s waist once again. Francis broke the kiss momentarily to grab the lube and Antonio wrapped an arm around his back, mouthed his ear and nipped right below it.
Lube in hand, Francis leaned back a bit and sat up a little higher on his haunches. He slicked up his fingers while observing the upturned curve of Antonio’s mouth, the light flush on his cheeks, the heated, gold-flecked green in the dark meeting his gaze. Holding himself steady on Antonio’s shoulder, he sat up a bit more, then reached back and pressed a lubed finger into himself, smirking at the catch in Antonio’s breathing at that.
Antonio leaned forward and placed one hand on Francis’ hip, the other where his thigh and buttock met, and slid the hand behind Francis in toward the one that was already there, working itself in and out. Antonio abruptly pulled it back and with a small smile stuck his fingers in his mouth, chuckling a bit through his fingers when Francis’ gaze darkened - eyes still crinkled in a smile, he reached behind Francis once again and placed his hand over Francis’, twining them together. They looked at each other, and, communicating with their gazes, both moved a finger up and in.
A few more intimate minutes spent like that, both simply watching each other as Francis’ breathing became more and more ragged, hands tangled and up and in and close - Francis guided both of them out with an almost-inaudible moan, slicked up Antonio, and climbed onto his lap. Antonio shifted onto his knees a little more, between Francis’ thighs, gripped his hips; Francis brought his hands to the sides of Antonio’s face and they met for a rough, gasping kiss as Francis lowered himself and Antonio pushed up, barely.
They soon worked up a rhythm, not particularly fast but deep, powerful, each thrust meaning something - mouths were devouring each other, occasionally detouring to ravage necks, ears, shoulders - Francis’ hands traced sweaty patterns on Antonio’s skin in a jumping, dancing pattern -
Antonio’s hands tightened on Francis’ hips and he threw an arm around Francis’ back, hand on the back of his head, tangling in his sweaty hair - he pressed them together and let out a rough, shuddering breath, slamming them together once - twice - three times - before he stilled, breathing heavily into Francis’ jaw.
He kissed his way over between breaths to Francis’ mouth, which was waiting for him. One deep kiss and a few nips, and Antonio leaned back with a huge smile. “So,” he asked, still breathless, “what about you?”
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