winter socials and love under chandeliers

Poppy

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Mar 18, 2015
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The drive back to his loft seemed like the longest in his life. It was hard to focus dazed, dizzy eyes straight ahead instead of the living art piece next to him. And when they left the car, Rhys made the first move and pressed him against his car door, claiming his lips the way Julian claimed him.

There was an entire storm raging inside his stomach. He was too warm, aching, tasting and touching wherever he can but it wasn't enough. He needed more of this man, always more.

This — This was it. This was what he was looking for. This color, this brightness, heart fit to burst, overwhelmed and needy at the same time. Julian was free falling into love.

As wonderful as kissing was, his cold, dead blood reacted poorly to the winter chill and he was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. He parted with some reluctance, breath so taken away he couldn't even form sentences, instead, gestured vaguely to stop before half-limping to his door and unlocking it with trembling fingers. As soon as he flicked the dim lights of the living room on, Julian pushed Rhys onto the couch, unzipping the back of his dress as he climbed on top of him.

It was just them now, in private, making love in the dark. The night was theirs. Why rush? As much as he enjoyed urgency, he wanted to take his time to explore his beloved's body, kiss every one of his freckles he could see. He met his lips again, slow but burning, hands unbuttoning his shirt with ease. Their hips met in a slow grind as Julian grazed his teeth against the soft skin of Rhys' neck, resisting the urge to feed, leaving marks instead.

"Now, think me crude," he started, voice low and shaky. "But I want you to fuck me."
 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

the dark lord
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Rhys' first instinct, after losing Julian, was to reach out for him again, a flash of distress in his eyes. But then, somehow, his mind reminded him that against the car, in the cold, wasn't exactly... the most comfortable setting to do this, and they'd actually made the painful drive for a reason. His loft was right fucking there.

He kept his hands to himself and held his breath, staying close, then shutting the door behind them. He managed to ditch his outer layers, but didn't have time for anything else. Being taken and pushed down was a relief beyond words.

He couldn't speak at first, just looking up at the stunning sight he was gifted with, that he finally had in his lap. He mumbled something along the lines of 'christ' and 'you're so beautiful', or maybe both but kind of slurred together- it was hard to tell for sure, but the sentiment was enough.

Rhys felt a bit like he was dying, slowly but with promise, along with all the desperation that came with it. He wasn't sure if Julian was the one killing him or saving him, but really, he wanted it all. He was sensitive to every movement and touch, exposed skin all heat. He leaned up to kiss him and lingered as much as possible, always parting with endless regret. They had all the time in the world, but Rhys wanted every second of his existence devoted to touching and being touched by this person, this angel.

Rhys' back arched first thanks to the friction, then the attention to his neck, unintentionally letting out a stuttering gasp. His hands weakly, needfully fumbled at Julian's back, trying to get him closer, god, closer. He felt sparks dance along his body and he squirmed, rubbed up against the other, exposed his neck just a little more. He might have a bit of a thing for being kissed, bitten, anything in that area. He definitely had a thing for Julian and all he received from him.

The thief swallowed heavily. His own voice came out thick, with worship more than hinted in his tone and words. "Jules, love... I dare say I'd do anything you asked of me, so long as you keep looking at me like that."

Rhys licked his lips, and carefully slid Julian's dress off of his shoulders, along with letting down those waves of silver hair. He'd been thinking about having his hands in it for a while now. Perfect. So perfect.

He kissed the other again, then offered a crooked grin. "And in regards to crude… I'm sure we can do worse. I'll fuck you, and I hope you're going to leave more marks on me, so everyone knows I did." His cheeks grew redder despite the way he spoke, because fuck, he wanted that. Needed, badly. His thoughts were starting to get very repetitive. "Please."
 

Poppy

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Mar 18, 2015
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Rhys' touches burned on his cold skin, his own clothes feeling like too much as a result, so he sat up to slide it down and throw it aside in a heaping mass. He didn't have anything covering his upper body given the stiff material of his dress, but at least he'd made a good decision with the tasteful lacy undergarments and black garters.

Julian had every intention of marking this man, his territory, and even if he didn't, it was hard to resist any request made with that voice. He nibbled and sucked all over Rhys' neck, lips and tongue traveling down, exploring little clusters of charming freckles until he stopped at his stomach.

Ah. He palmed him through his clothes, eyes very intent on what he was doing. He bit his lip. At this point, all he could even focus on was being fucked so hard he'd see white. He undid Rhys' pants and began to suck him off, tasting every bit of this gorgeous man and falling into a rhythm, nothing less than careful and devoted. Julian was his. Oh god, was he ever his. Fuck him, break him, leave him wanting more. He'd care for nothing less.

He pulled away with a sloppy pop, lazily stroking him, looking like a hot, desperate mess. He met his eyes.

"You're right. We can do so much worse." He wiped his mouth and slid Rhys inside him, and aha, the first one was always the best wasn't it? He called out Rhys' name in a slow, drawn out whine before beginning to ride him slowly, getting used to these wonderful feelings all over again.
 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

the dark lord
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Jul 19, 2015
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portland, oregon
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Rhys sighed pleasantly. Being able to see Julian Antoinette like this was heavenly beyond words, a blessing, he wanted this burned in his mind. It started blanking again a moment later, however, with that mouth back on him. Oh, thank fucking god. Rhys took shaky breaths, sounds being dragged from him every other second, and grinned to no end.

"Oh," Rhys said, eyes fluttering shut, his attempt at being vaguely articulate before… forgetting about that again entirely. He wasn't even coherent enough to look smug, lips simply parted, already overwhelmed by being teased and gotten off with fabric still in the way. He definitely hadn't mentally prepared to go from that to Julian starting to suck him off.

Rhys' legs trembled, and it took every ounce of self control he had in him not to push his hips forward in uncordinated, desperate motions. He just let Julian have at him, in whatever way he wanted. His eyes were dark, body giving off far too much uncomfortable heat, and his mix of crying out and groaning was unrestrained, ever so vocal in the otherwise silence of the loft.

Looking at Julian again was difficult, christ, it shot an entirely new jolt of arousal down to his cock. His lover looked wrecked already, because of him, and how they were together. Rhys couldn't have looked much better. Hell, he was probably worse. His heart pounded away in his chest, and the smile he offered was ever so weak. God, he was helpless against this.

If the heat had been bothering him before, fucking fuck, it was near killing him now. His everything had been lit up like a firework, and there was no time he could shine brighter. He let Julian take the lead again for a while, the sounds from him growing far more labored, before he could hardly stand it. He had to- needed to- shit, fuck! Julian had asked to be fucked, so Rhys was going to listen.

Rhys surged up to clash their mouths together in a rough, fierce kiss, biting and licking and shameless, then deepening it. He tangled one of his hands in Julian's hair and used the other to keep a good grip on his hip, tightly holding and tugging, encouraging their mutual movements to grow more intense.

At some point, he switched their positions, flipping Julian over to more thoroughly fuck him into the couch. Rhys said his name against their kisses, and purred every single compliment that passed through his head in this state of intoxicating, euphoric lust and adoration that was completely taking over.
 

Poppy

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Mar 18, 2015
3,930
At this point, Julian was unconcerned with how he looked. He was sure it wasn't anything good. He was a mess, and there was a certain artistry there, a normally stiff and unaffected man undone by the basest of pleasures. Undone by him.

Julian kissed him with equal fervor and met his thrusts desperately. He called his name like a prayer. It might as well have been. He was the closest thing he'd have to a god, filling him in the best of ways while leaving him aching and wanting all the same, drowning, divine. It was too much, not enough, more, more, more.

The sudden initiative caught him off-guard, and at the same time, threw more fire into the flame. He wrapped his legs around his middle to push him deeper, bucking into him, hands all over his back and hair, clawing and pulling and holding like a man desperate for air.

He, quite literally, got the coherence fucked out of him, and all he could do was scream half-thought praises in between kisses. Rhys was beautiful, wonderful, his, his, his. Every thrust sent his head swimming. He thought, if he died then, he'd be all right with that.

When that position was starting to cramp, Julian bit his lip and pushed Rhys away. He threw his head back and grinned, sighing dreamily as he tried to gather himself. He reached down to feel himself up, rubbing his sensitive clit, already missing Rhys inside him.

"God. You're..." He laughed, and it came out lower than he expected. "You're something else. I'm not a delicate flower. Don't be afraid to get rough with me." Bite me, was hopefully implied. He winked.

He turned over so he was facing down to the couch, urging to take him in that position.
 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

the dark lord
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Jul 19, 2015
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portland, oregon
mantacarlos.tumblr.com
Pronouns
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Christ. Saying Rhys had gotten lucky tonight wouldn't even the half of it. He was really starting to hope this wasn't only a one time deal, but if it was, they were damn well making the most of it. The idea of eventually having to part certainly inspired him to add as much intensity as possible, just in case.

Rhys looked at Julian, in the most dazzled, daze of a state thanks to him. He wondered if the man would be offended if he were to bring these gorgeous visuals to life on a canvas. He was a stunner, that was for sure, and ah, Rhys really didn't lose any of his heat from their temporary parting. He swallowed. Watching Julian touch himself alone was both a gift- good god, he was never letting go of this mental imagery- and pure torture. He continued to barely cope with not having his hands and mouth all over him.

His already shallow breathing hitched at what Julian said, the permission given. He almost wanted to nervously laugh. Oh, you're perfect, where's the catch? It didn't even matter right now. Nothing mattered but this terrifyingly wonderful person, and that was a relief beyond words. It was okay. They could be picture perfect, if only for a snapshot of a moment, and he'd take it like the starving man he was. Art was fleeting. Art was forever. It was time to end his mental dramatics, because he was getting fucking laid, and he wasn't about to be mistaken for underappreciative.

"I live to please," he said faintly as a response, far too gone to speak any further than that.

Rhys slid his hand up Julian's back in a slow motion, then back down again, fingers gently stroking along his spine. He took his hips in both of his hands and aligned himself properly, near teasingly pressing against his lover for a moment before pushing back in abruptly, thrusts harder and just as indulgent as before. He lost himself in heat and the worst of soft, wanton emotions. He kissed Julian's lovely porcelain shoulders, incredibly gentle and affectionate, before biting down to leave a mark and taste his addiction, sucking at it afterwards. He repeated this while continuing to fuck his darling and get in deeper, making needy, adoring sounds.

Even if they weren't going to stay in touch, Rhys would at least leave a lasting physical impression. That, he was determined in.
 
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