sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence,
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And this is bloody intolerable. By his count, it's been fourteen nights, which means fourteen days. Fourteen weddings and fourteen chances for Anahuarque to turn to him with that particular look in her eye. Some of the nights have been easier than others - sometimes, he's risen to the occasion and others, he hasn't. For her part, Anahuarque seems genuinely kind. There's something particularly hard in the way she leans in to him, her hair loose around her shoulders, and touches his face.

His arm bothers him and he drinks a lot.

He's not sure when exactly it happens. It's as though something entirely snaps inside his head. Tonight is one of the nights when it does not go well, when he takes time to please her in other ways and then lies beside her, open-eyed, until her breathing levels and slows.

Drunk as he is, there's only one place that he can go.

He walks in without knocking.

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The request was somewhat unexpected, though the more Laurence thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. Poor Granby had been deprived of his freewill for an intolerable amount of time, all through seemingly no fault of his own. It stood to reason that a man in those circumstances would seek to grasp what control he had, though Laurence had no notion of how he planned to go about it. Nevertheless, he nodded as if he understood in full.

Edited 2012-07-31 22:24 (UTC)

Maybe it would be better not to think about it at all. Better to let everything be visceral and let desire carry him. He leans in to take another kiss and his hand slides down, palm pressing against the hard outline of Laurence's cock through his breeches.

The brazenness of the touch startled him and, almost without any conscious thought, he found himself pressing himself back against it, suddenly aware of just how long it had been since another person had touched him in so intimate a manner. It was far easier not to dwell on such a thing though, and instead to focus on the lips meeting his own, the hand on his body.

A part of him had been prepared to be shoved away and, when he isn't, he finds himself grinning into the kiss. This is something that he knows, something that he's confident in. Laurence pushes into his hand and Granby squeezes, gently, stroking him through clothes.

Laurence made a small noise into the kiss, reaching out to grab a hold of Granby before his brain could get opportunity to interfere and stop the gesture. In the midst of everything, the pleasant and the confusing, it felt comforting to have an anchor of some sort.

It's going better than Granby had any reason to expect and he echoes the sound that Laurence made. He changes the placement of his hand, rubbing his fingers along Laurence's cock before he starts to unfasten his breeches, one-handed but deft, all the same.

"Just breathe," he advises, pressing another kiss to the corner of Laurence's mouth, rocking his hips forward to press his own cock into the hollow of Laurence's hip.

It was sound advice and Laurence did his best to follow it. But the finer points of it were easily lost among the sheer amount of sensation. The hand, the mouth, his own body becoming more willing by the moment and Granby's clearly ready long before it. That, actually, was what gave him the most pause, a prominent physical reminder of how out of his experience his current circumstances were.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

It comes out very quiet, breathed against Laurence's skin but, quiet as it is, he means it. He pauses, his fingers against Laurence's skin, Laurence's breeches sagging open.

God, he hopes that Laurence doesn't say it.

There was a brief pause, Laurence leaning against Granby, his breathing unsteady, nearly trembling with anticipation for lord knew what, exposed in more ways than one. He shook his head. It was too late, they were too far gone, for them to stop it now.

He really needs no more permission than that. He shifts his hand, sliding inside Laurence's clothes to curl his fingers around his cock. Granby draws in a shivering breath. He feels an answering throb between his own thighs.

"God, Will..."

Laurence shuddered at the contact, biting back a small noise of pleasure. Despite it all he was still aware that their surroundings were far from the ideal spot for such an enterprise, especially when the man in his bed was the new husband of the Sapa Inca herself. However, Granby appeared to have no such reservations.

This much, at least, Granby can do with practised ease. Pressed close, making the most of the friction that's to be gained from his own shirt and the press of Laurence's hip behind it, he rolls his wrist, stroking the full length of Laurence's cock slowly.

He presses another kiss to Laurence's mouth, muffling any sound that he might make, getting lost in the other man in every way that he can.

For the moment he successfully held back any other noises his body wanted to make. Laurence may have been out of his depth and out of control, but he was still determined not to make a spectacle of himself. Just the fact that he was actively returning the kiss should have been enough.

It's more than enough. Granby's lost in it now - the press of Laurence's mouth against his, the slide of Laurence's cock through his fist. His own cock is a distraction but one that he feels able to bear for the moment.

The plain truth of the matter was that, merely by participating, Laurence was making a spectacle of himself and the longer that things continued, the more he worried that it was an increasingly sorry one. While with a woman he might not have been quite so hopeless, with a fellow man he found himself floundering, reduced to kissing and nothing more out of ignorance, inexperience, and a small amount of something that was very like fear. No matter. If Granby wished something different, then surely he would say so.

In truth, Granby felt in no position to ask Laurence for any more than he had already. He squeezes, rolling his wrist, stroking Laurence with skill born of much practise. He whimpers, grinding forward against Laurence's thigh, smudging a kiss against the corner of Laurence's mouth.

"Oh, God, Will," he mumbles. "I have...Jesus...I've wanted."

Granby certainly was very skilled, a state of affairs Laurence noted and evidently approved of, though he did not like to entertain the notion of just where and how the experience had been gained. Instead he tried to focus on the sensations at hand and controlling his own reactions to them. With luck he would not make a fool of himself, though if Granby continued as he was...

Shifting his grip, Granby rested his forehead against Laurence's shoulder. He had only one goal in mind - though his head was full of the thoughts of other things, other things that he wished to be doing to Laurence right in that moment.

His own hips jerk, his rhythm turned erratic, hand tightening as it strokes.

Granby's attentions paid off sooner rather than later. Laurence came with a violent shudder and a barely strangled oath that spoke of just how long it had been since his last time in such a position. It had been very long indeed and, though, he somehow remained sitting upright, he felt positively boneless.

He can't help the feeling of triumph. The huff of laughter against Laurence's skin, followed by a kiss and a nip to the side of Laurence's neck.

"Thank you," he mumbles, still rocking forward, unable to halt.

While politeness insisted that Laurence answer, he wasn't entirely certain if 'you're welcome' was the correct response in such a situation, particularly with Granby's continued, persistent motion. It was distracting and confusing and a few other things that Laurence did not care to examine in detail.

Somehow, through sheer force of will, he manages to force himself still. He's still crowded into Laurence's space, mouth against his skin, sticky hand against his hip. He drags in a shaky breath.

"Jesus, Will...I..."

Laurence finally chose that moment to look down, glancing quickly at the rumpled, soiled tableau before looking back up, his face burning red. He did not know what to say. He did not know what to do. He did not know what Granby wanted. He only knew that he would not go until he did.

He wants to ask for it and knows that he won't. He squeezes Laurence's hip and then moves his hand, rucking up his shirt to curl his fingers around his cock, fisting quickly with very little grace.

He knows that he ought to move away, knows that this is pushing Laurence one step further than he should.

But he can't.

"John," Laurence finally managed to say, unable to look fully at what he was doing, trying to focus only on his face instead. But he didn't know how to finish. He knew that he had a question -many of them, in fact- but did not know how to ask it.