Arthur took a step forward and they came together as if for the first and last time, a mess of lips and hot breath and hands digging under clothing to find each others' naked skin. At some point Arthur pulled off his shirt and shoved his hand down the back of Alfred's jeans to squeeze his bare ass; at another he shucked his jeans, remembering to dig out the little twin-pack of lubricant and condom he'd oh-so-hopefully moved there from his wallet when he'd visited the loo earlier. And bugger it if he wouldn't fuck him with his socks still on: he unrolled Alfred onto the bed like spreading an erotic scroll.
He kissed Alfred again, deep and hard, felt his cock pulsing against the soft skin at Alfred's hip. He had a vague impression of fingers running along his spine, counting him up and down. When he slid a slick finger between Alfred's ass-cheeks, circling the tight opening, Alfred arched against him with a gasp.
Arthur brushed Alfred's hair from his sticky forehead, kissed the sweat-salty skin there.
"I'll be okay," Alfred breathed.
"I know," Arthur said. He lifted Alfred's thighs over his shoulders and sucked his cock, probing inside him with his slicked finger, pressing until-- ah, there -- until Alfred shuddered and clenched his fingers in Arthur's hair.
"God, Arthur, you're amazing," Alfred huffed. He was watching, his neck bent against the headboard, his cheeks at least as flushed as Arthur's had ever been. To speak of amazing. "I can't hardly bear to look at you. Wait-- ah, wait, I'm going to--"
Arthur sucked him off, relentless and merciless to Alfred's moans of protest, until Alfred came, crying out, his body clenching tightly around Arthur's finger. He was relaxed, lord, at last. Arthur drooled his mouthful of semen onto Alfred's belly and spread it onto his fingers, feeling desperate and messy, and the sight of his own fingers on Al's quivering stomach was painfully erotic.
"Over," he said, and when Alfred, still knackered from his orgasm, only wrinkled his forehead, Arthur spun his finger. "Roll over, m'dear."
Alfred grinned, lopsided, at him. "You're so sweet to me, Arthur," he said.
Still, he obediently flopped over onto his stomach and pushed to his knees, so Arthur was inclined to be agreeable. "Shut it, you," he said, pulling on the condom. Ah-- ah-- he took a deep breath to calm the racing of his heart and the acute throb in his cock, which was threatening at the lightest touch to end his adventure prematurely. He swiped his lubricant-and-semen-coated fingers between Alfred's rounded ass-cheeks, greasing him up, guiding himself inside.
"Nnnn," moaned Alfred. He was tensed, his head hanging nearly to the bed.
"You may as well breathe," Arthur instructed. "There..."
It had already taken far too long -- minutes? Hours? Weeks? Since he'd first met Alfred Jones, anyway -- but still he tried to be gentle at first. He swirled his hips, he swirled his fingers in the sweat rivulets on Alfred's spine, nudging forward until he was throbbing bollocks-deep in the tight grip of Alfred's body.
Then straight to business, all business, he was, and rocked his hips; he knew just the rhythm, had dreamed it many times. In and out and again and again, following the tight coil of yearning that pulsed deep in his belly. In and out again and again, Alfred's body like a sleek leather glove stroking Arthur's cock.
"Do it, do it, Arthur," Alfred breathed, and Arthur did it, fucked him, shaking and steady all at once, splaying his fingers across Alfred's soft stomach to hold him close.
The room smelled like Alfred, Alfred smelled like Alfred. Arthur's ears were filled with huffs of breath and the slap and squelch of skin and Alfred, never silent, sighed his name and yes, yes. The little sex fiend; he was getting hard again already.
Arthur captured Alfred's erection against his palm, stroked it between his sticky-slick hand and the mess on Alfred's belly.
All Right, Tonight (Part 47/?)
He kissed Alfred again, deep and hard, felt his cock pulsing against the soft skin at Alfred's hip. He had a vague impression of fingers running along his spine, counting him up and down. When he slid a slick finger between Alfred's ass-cheeks, circling the tight opening, Alfred arched against him with a gasp.
Arthur brushed Alfred's hair from his sticky forehead, kissed the sweat-salty skin there.
"I'll be okay," Alfred breathed.
"I know," Arthur said. He lifted Alfred's thighs over his shoulders and sucked his cock, probing inside him with his slicked finger, pressing until-- ah, there -- until Alfred shuddered and clenched his fingers in Arthur's hair.
"God, Arthur, you're amazing," Alfred huffed. He was watching, his neck bent against the headboard, his cheeks at least as flushed as Arthur's had ever been. To speak of amazing. "I can't hardly bear to look at you. Wait-- ah, wait, I'm going to--"
Arthur sucked him off, relentless and merciless to Alfred's moans of protest, until Alfred came, crying out, his body clenching tightly around Arthur's finger. He was relaxed, lord, at last. Arthur drooled his mouthful of semen onto Alfred's belly and spread it onto his fingers, feeling desperate and messy, and the sight of his own fingers on Al's quivering stomach was painfully erotic.
"Over," he said, and when Alfred, still knackered from his orgasm, only wrinkled his forehead, Arthur spun his finger. "Roll over, m'dear."
Alfred grinned, lopsided, at him. "You're so sweet to me, Arthur," he said.
Still, he obediently flopped over onto his stomach and pushed to his knees, so Arthur was inclined to be agreeable. "Shut it, you," he said, pulling on the condom. Ah-- ah-- he took a deep breath to calm the racing of his heart and the acute throb in his cock, which was threatening at the lightest touch to end his adventure prematurely. He swiped his lubricant-and-semen-coated fingers between Alfred's rounded ass-cheeks, greasing him up, guiding himself inside.
"Nnnn," moaned Alfred. He was tensed, his head hanging nearly to the bed.
"You may as well breathe," Arthur instructed. "There..."
It had already taken far too long -- minutes? Hours? Weeks? Since he'd first met Alfred Jones, anyway -- but still he tried to be gentle at first. He swirled his hips, he swirled his fingers in the sweat rivulets on Alfred's spine, nudging forward until he was throbbing bollocks-deep in the tight grip of Alfred's body.
Then straight to business, all business, he was, and rocked his hips; he knew just the rhythm, had dreamed it many times. In and out and again and again, following the tight coil of yearning that pulsed deep in his belly. In and out again and again, Alfred's body like a sleek leather glove stroking Arthur's cock.
"Do it, do it, Arthur," Alfred breathed, and Arthur did it, fucked him, shaking and steady all at once, splaying his fingers across Alfred's soft stomach to hold him close.
The room smelled like Alfred, Alfred smelled like Alfred. Arthur's ears were filled with huffs of breath and the slap and squelch of skin and Alfred, never silent, sighed his name and yes, yes. The little sex fiend; he was getting hard again already.
Arthur captured Alfred's erection against his palm, stroked it between his sticky-slick hand and the mess on Alfred's belly.