No, I guess it's not that I knew but... I don't know how to phrase it without coming across terribly. I mean, you can't really tell me that you've had a boner for hours and me not assume that he had something to do with it. Because he's experimental, curious, because there's as much hunger in his eyes as observation when he's watching us. You, more so.
Does that make sense?
[ he suddenly feels self conscious of himself. ]
I mean, I'm quite happy to pick up where he left off. I just need to get home first.
[ it takes him a while, but he does indeed understand what he's getting at. he should have known as soon as he took a step down their street where he'd been headed, what the scent was because chaos follows newt like a shadow in the most fond of ways.
god
damn it. ]
And how far are you from home exactly?
[ i'm at work so u don't get a nasty pic, but in fiction, sasha does, and it's filthy, one hand braced against a stiff and proud-looking cock that is most definitely still dripping, konstantin's hips and stomach that are visible through the shot are more than generously flecked with his release, some of it fresh still.
[ sasha nearly drops his phone. if there was anything coherent he was planning on saying, it's absolutely gone. conscious of the fact that he's in public, just walking down the street leading to his car, several streets away (a quiet, reasonably priced car park that only a handful of other people seem to know about, a secret he loves keeping, mundane as it is), he closes the picture almost as quickly as he opens it.
it's only when he presses his back to a nearby wall, certain that no one's standing where they can see the screen of his phone, and looks again.
holy shit. ]
Holy shit
[ his pulse is threatening to leap clean out of his wrist, it's suddenly started going that fast. it never changes, that desperate need, the straight up lust he has for konstantin's body. he bites his lip, trying to steady his already quickened breathing. sasha scala is a lucky fucking man. ]
[ 20 minutes seems agonizingly long for the primal part of konstantin's brain that demands sasha tend to him now now now, but newt is out and he's left trying to do anything but think about the desire pounding in his brain, fraying his nerves. he's dropped two mugs in his effort to make tea after newt had gone, banged into two walls when he wasn't thinking, nearly drowned himself (an impossibility, but if he could be drowned he would have) in the tub.
there's truth in the phrase "thinking with your other head" because that's where all the blood is going and konstantin is fairly sure he's not sure how much longer he can tolerate his own attentions without it doing a damnable thing.
also fuck clothes.
clothes have long since been shed. he tried putting them back on and they felt too caught, caught wrong, constricting heat.
konstantin waits twenty minutes, waits them out in agony with a hand between his legs and his face pressed into sasha's pillow desperately, breathing him in with large gasps as he tries to find that little sweet spot inside of himself. the position doesn't lend itself to good reach, but it will have to do because he wants what he wants, fingers slicked up and slid inside of him, a mouthful of something that smells so deeply like sasha, enough to fuel the fantasy, enough to make 20 minutes bearable. ]
[ he makes it seventeen minutes, which is impressive given madrid's streets and traffic and pedestrians and cyclists, given that sasha is feeling hot under the collar when the city around him is already heaving with heat as it is, given that all he can think about right now is every part of konstantin's body that he's memorised, about getting his mouth on them. there's a lot of things to consider when he doesn't have room to consider anything other than his husband, waiting for him, desperately wanting him.
he wants to worship every perfect inch of konstantin's cock with his lips, his hands, his slick tongue that just wants to please him, taste him. by the time he pulls up to their building, he feels almost dizzy with it. that absurd, intoxicating sense of desire they found in their early twenties has never seemed to lose its intensity.
bag dropped at the front door, shoes lazily kicked off, one then the other, left behind him in a little trail, a treasure hunt for later, maybe more for newt than anyone else. sasha doubts he'll be able to pry himself away from konstantin's side for the foreseeable future. he shimmies inelegantly out of his shirt as he goes, abandoned on the back of a chair, practically trips over his own feet as he reaches the bedroom door and finds what's waiting for him. ]
Oh, [ he says, a little whisper of delight and awe. like this, konstantin would have noticed his scent from the front hall of their building, heard every mechanism of the keys that sasha slid into their door.
sasha is breathing a little unevenly from racing up the stairs two by two, but he sinks and topples into the room like a man that's found his salvation. in russian, he breathes, ] Hello, beautiful.
[ konstantin does pick up the scent of him, far away enough that it makes him all the more eager, all the more hungry. by the time the keys are sounding off in the door, he's riding his own fingers with shameless abandon, three pressed in tight and the sound from his throat almost inhuman.
sasha's body makes the bed dip and konstantin, in turn, is shifting onto his back slowly, fingers still inside of himself, legs sprawled and body arched up like an offering. there should be more finesse to it, but konstantin is an animal bound up in animal things, desires, hungers, wants, and he hears the little lilt of sasha's russian in his ears like the sweetest song, the warmest call.
konstantin remembers reading a long time ago about the mating of mermaids, some long and boring article he'd had to sift through for a particular line on sound--hardly anything to do with the actual act of mating.
(it seems pointless when you've never been in heat.)
but now he's half-wishing that maybe he'd paid more attention. his voice is raw, trembling, half covered in music, different from its usual, playful tonality. he reaches out to grab what he can of sasha, to pull him close because the scent of him is overwhelming and he wants him. ]
Help me.
[ he says it with a whimper, fingers digging into sasha's skin, his own body flush with fever. ]
[ a soft, soothing croon, sasha's entire body wrapped up in an odd sense of calm where konstantin is all urgency and desperation. his movements are swift, natural, no hesitations. when konstantin pulls, he dips forward obligingly, one hand propping him up on the bed, the other going lower, fingertips skimming along his taint, looking for the wet, slick entrance without yet politely asking konstantin to remove his own hand. he sinks to kiss konstantin's swollen lips, to promise him that he's here, that he'll look after him. ]
You're a sight right now.
[ moments later and his mouth is already sinking down around the head of konstantin's cock, the taste of him making sasha ache in the pit of his stomach. his body shifts somewhat, moving back and coaxing konstantin to follow, until sasha finds himself knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, where he can balance and put both his hands to proper use. one at the base of konstantin's cock, stroking him in regular movements to meet sasha's lips in the middle, the other taking konstantin's wrist and sliding one finger, then two, into him. he holds out on a third, for the time being. ]
Tell me what you need.
[ soft, spoken with his lips still poised against the crown, tongue lathing over it to punctuate the sentences. his lips glisten wetly. ]
[ konstantin would open his mouth for more than just breath, but it's all he can manage, all he's capable of. his breath comes out sharply in little quick gasps as sasha slides his mouth down on him, presses his fingers back into him, has him fucking up and fucking down on knuckles and tongue until he is squirming on the sheets slowly, suffused in the fact that sasha is here now, making his mind hazy, his mouth hungry. ]
You, [ is all he can manage, pressing his hips up. ] Mouth... fingers... whatever you have, I want it--I... [ he keens and it's musical, trembling and whining as he props a heel up against the bed and spreads himself that much more.
the sensation is overwhelming, fingers inside of him, not filling him up enough, teasing, struggling against the grip on his wrist, keeping him from completely wrenching back his own control. everything is really keeping him from doing it, his muscles feeling too lax, too hungry and wanton, starved for touch even though he's been quite thoroughly touched hours before. ] Sasha, [ he whimpers out his name. ] More, I just... please, I'm begging you...
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timeasmymeasure
2/2
Date: 2017-04-04 05:58 pm (UTC)BECAUSE I HAVE NO OTHER OPEN TEXTING POST U MEAN???? 1//2
Date: 2017-04-04 06:08 pm (UTC)well
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 06:36 pm (UTC)In many ways.
Including the help of another person.
[ you know who he means. ]
In fact I think I've been made part of an observational study.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 07:24 pm (UTC)I knew I should never have left you two alone... [ typed with all the fondness in the world. ] How long has it been then?
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 07:30 pm (UTC)[ ???????? ...... ]
A few hours now.
At least I can think. It's an improvement compared to earlier...
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 07:50 pm (UTC)No, I guess it's not that I knew but... I don't know how to phrase it without coming across terribly. I mean, you can't really tell me that you've had a boner for hours and me not assume that he had something to do with it. Because he's experimental, curious, because there's as much hunger in his eyes as observation when he's watching us. You, more so.
Does that make sense?
[ he suddenly feels self conscious of himself. ]
I mean, I'm quite happy to pick up where he left off. I just need to get home first.
no subject
Date: 2017-04-04 07:57 pm (UTC)[ it takes him a while, but he does indeed understand what he's getting at. he should have known as soon as he took a step down their street where he'd been headed, what the scent was because chaos follows newt like a shadow in the most fond of ways.
god
damn it. ]
And how far are you from home exactly?
[ i'm at work so u don't get a nasty pic, but in fiction, sasha does, and it's filthy, one hand braced against a stiff and proud-looking cock that is most definitely still dripping, konstantin's hips and stomach that are visible through the shot are more than generously flecked with his release, some of it fresh still.
get ur hustle on. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-05-17 10:09 pm (UTC)it's only when he presses his back to a nearby wall, certain that no one's standing where they can see the screen of his phone, and looks again.
holy shit. ]
Holy shit
[ his pulse is threatening to leap clean out of his wrist, it's suddenly started going that fast. it never changes, that desperate need, the straight up lust he has for konstantin's body. he bites his lip, trying to steady his already quickened breathing. sasha scala is a lucky fucking man. ]
20 mins
no subject
Date: 2017-06-23 04:53 pm (UTC)[ 20 minutes seems agonizingly long for the primal part of konstantin's brain that demands sasha tend to him now now now, but newt is out and he's left trying to do anything but think about the desire pounding in his brain, fraying his nerves. he's dropped two mugs in his effort to make tea after newt had gone, banged into two walls when he wasn't thinking, nearly drowned himself (an impossibility, but if he could be drowned he would have) in the tub.
there's truth in the phrase "thinking with your other head" because that's where all the blood is going and konstantin is fairly sure he's not sure how much longer he can tolerate his own attentions without it doing a damnable thing.
also fuck clothes.
clothes have long since been shed. he tried putting them back on and they felt too caught, caught wrong, constricting heat.
konstantin waits twenty minutes, waits them out in agony with a hand between his legs and his face pressed into sasha's pillow desperately, breathing him in with large gasps as he tries to find that little sweet spot inside of himself. the position doesn't lend itself to good reach, but it will have to do because he wants what he wants, fingers slicked up and slid inside of him, a mouthful of something that smells so deeply like sasha, enough to fuel the fantasy, enough to make 20 minutes bearable. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-06-23 05:26 pm (UTC)he wants to worship every perfect inch of konstantin's cock with his lips, his hands, his slick tongue that just wants to please him, taste him. by the time he pulls up to their building, he feels almost dizzy with it. that absurd, intoxicating sense of desire they found in their early twenties has never seemed to lose its intensity.
bag dropped at the front door, shoes lazily kicked off, one then the other, left behind him in a little trail, a treasure hunt for later, maybe more for newt than anyone else. sasha doubts he'll be able to pry himself away from konstantin's side for the foreseeable future. he shimmies inelegantly out of his shirt as he goes, abandoned on the back of a chair, practically trips over his own feet as he reaches the bedroom door and finds what's waiting for him. ]
Oh, [ he says, a little whisper of delight and awe. like this, konstantin would have noticed his scent from the front hall of their building, heard every mechanism of the keys that sasha slid into their door.
sasha is breathing a little unevenly from racing up the stairs two by two, but he sinks and topples into the room like a man that's found his salvation. in russian, he breathes, ] Hello, beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2017-07-17 01:19 pm (UTC)sasha's body makes the bed dip and konstantin, in turn, is shifting onto his back slowly, fingers still inside of himself, legs sprawled and body arched up like an offering. there should be more finesse to it, but konstantin is an animal bound up in animal things, desires, hungers, wants, and he hears the little lilt of sasha's russian in his ears like the sweetest song, the warmest call.
konstantin remembers reading a long time ago about the mating of mermaids, some long and boring article he'd had to sift through for a particular line on sound--hardly anything to do with the actual act of mating.
(it seems pointless when you've never been in heat.)
but now he's half-wishing that maybe he'd paid more attention. his voice is raw, trembling, half covered in music, different from its usual, playful tonality. he reaches out to grab what he can of sasha, to pull him close because the scent of him is overwhelming and he wants him. ]
Help me.
[ he says it with a whimper, fingers digging into sasha's skin, his own body flush with fever. ]
Touch me--
no subject
Date: 2017-07-18 12:08 pm (UTC)[ a soft, soothing croon, sasha's entire body wrapped up in an odd sense of calm where konstantin is all urgency and desperation. his movements are swift, natural, no hesitations. when konstantin pulls, he dips forward obligingly, one hand propping him up on the bed, the other going lower, fingertips skimming along his taint, looking for the wet, slick entrance without yet politely asking konstantin to remove his own hand. he sinks to kiss konstantin's swollen lips, to promise him that he's here, that he'll look after him. ]
You're a sight right now.
[ moments later and his mouth is already sinking down around the head of konstantin's cock, the taste of him making sasha ache in the pit of his stomach. his body shifts somewhat, moving back and coaxing konstantin to follow, until sasha finds himself knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, where he can balance and put both his hands to proper use. one at the base of konstantin's cock, stroking him in regular movements to meet sasha's lips in the middle, the other taking konstantin's wrist and sliding one finger, then two, into him. he holds out on a third, for the time being. ]
Tell me what you need.
[ soft, spoken with his lips still poised against the crown, tongue lathing over it to punctuate the sentences. his lips glisten wetly. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-07-31 01:14 am (UTC)You, [ is all he can manage, pressing his hips up. ] Mouth... fingers... whatever you have, I want it--I... [ he keens and it's musical, trembling and whining as he props a heel up against the bed and spreads himself that much more.
the sensation is overwhelming, fingers inside of him, not filling him up enough, teasing, struggling against the grip on his wrist, keeping him from completely wrenching back his own control. everything is really keeping him from doing it, his muscles feeling too lax, too hungry and wanton, starved for touch even though he's been quite thoroughly touched hours before. ] Sasha, [ he whimpers out his name. ] More, I just... please, I'm begging you...