amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ It's a little odd doing this part blind, keeping a hand on Gold to orient himself, but Carver's got a can-do attitude and a pressing desire to stay out of his head as much as possible, so he makes it work. He's always worked better with a task, something in front of him. So what if it's sex this time? So fucking what?

He keeps his hand on Gold, working him even as Carver drags his mouth down his stomach. No teeth, this time. Just heat, and pressure. ]

Yeah, you do.

[ They've done this before. He has a feeling they might do it again, after. This time, Carver goes slower. Gives him time to get used to the feeling before he takes Gold fully into his mouth. ]

Uuhn...

[ His eyes flutter shut as Carver moves downward. He doesn't say much; he's not going out of his way to interject a lot the way Gold had -- who didn't tend to talk a LOT when he was driving but was very deliberate in his prompting.

Maybe it's that it's different, or it might just be Carver, but that's what makes it work. So when he's suddenly taken in, there's already a thrill that has hold of him; his initial gasp is soundless. One hand braces itself on the back of the couch, channeling some of his tension while the other smooths encouragingly back into Carver's hair.

He utters something, but whether it's in another language, his accent makes it too thick to parse, or it's utter nonsense? Lost to all that hear it. ]

[ Yeah. That's telling. That's working. Carver hums a little, knowing Gold will feel it just fine, and takes him in deeper. Almost until he can't breathe. ]

[ Another almost soundless gasp, treading that fine line between pleasure and just the threat of pain, aware there are teeth even if Carver is being careful. And there's more to it this time, how much more vulnerable it is, nothing hidden, even if nothing can really be seen.

His hips threaten to move again, but he stops himself, as perfect as this feels, that reads like a line to him, something not to be crossed. ]

...please. [ He's not even sure what he's begging for, why that bubbles past his lips just now. ]

[ Please, he says, and Carver hums - low and pleased, and he knows Gold will feel it like this. No escaping it. He draws back with a groan, knowing it's going to affect his voice sound. Make it hoarse, and low.

He doesn't care. He really, truly, does not give a fuck. ]

Please what?

[ He smoothes his hand over Gold's hip. Slower, in contrast to what he was doing a moment ago. But he keeps working Gold through it. No breaks, no moment to catch his breath. ]

[ The sound when Carver disengages in order to answer him -- to, what? Chide? Provoke? -- was nothing short of a whimper. ]

...Don't stop.

[ He's close. He knows he is. His fingers brush over the hand on his hip as he tries not to squirm too much. ]

[ Hmm. He's almost tempted to push, to make Gold beg. But that would swing things, wouldn't it? And Carver knows his moods are changeable at the best of time, mercury running through his thoughts like a curse. One drop away from hurtling the pendulum violently to one side, then the next.

Carver just hums. ]

Then work for it.

[ And he takes him back in. Deeper this time, until his eyes are watering. ]

[ Well, that was something of a difficult command to fully process. Did he want him up and working him or did he want him like this? Where there wasn't much to be done but try to hold on. Did he mean him to beg?

His moan crawls out from somewhere far beneath his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut again, feeling so fully engulfed and unable to really comprehend it beyond pleasure. He was moving, not thrusting, but allowing himself to move with him -- though the pull to do otherwise was becoming erratic.

And perhaps he did beg, but it was largely nonsense, gentle praise in little gasping breaths.

It wasn't as though he could ask Carver to tell him what he wanted him to do; then he would just stop again.

He did manage a warning ahead of the edge as he approached it, a sound, a touch. ]

[ It's quiet. Not silent - not anymore - but quiet, and Carver likes that. It's familiar. Not a comfort - sex is rarely that, if ever - but something familiar and understandable, and he likes the way that Gold touches him. How he trembles, just a little, when he comes.

Carver coughs. Doesn't quite swallow all of it and gets some on his face as he draws back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Goddamn.

He leans back, gaze unfocused. But calm, suddenly, in a way he wasn't earlier. ]

So. That's one.

[ For a moment, all Gold can really do is allow himself to collapse, try to breathe, try to remember how to think. All there is of him is the leftover sparks of electricity going off behind his eyelids, warmth, and then -- a shock almost like cold air that jolts him back to the present.

He opens his eyes just in time to catch a look at Carver's face. (Gold almost utters an apology. It's meek and hesitant in his throat. Then What he does. What he says, and the shiver that rides up into Gold's veins then.

It's practically a warning. ]

Gods...

Mhmm.

[ That sounds about right. Carver clears his throat, listening intently. One hand still on Gold's hip. His voice is hoarse, now. He doesn't care at all. ]

This'll be two. Get comfortable.

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