Arthur's hands find purchase on Jedao's waist, knotting fistfuls of shirt in a desperate grip as he kisses back with determined, slightly drunken hunger, letting Jedao set the pace with pleasure. The hand in his hair and the sting of his scalp make him gasp, and he keens at the sensation of teeth on his throat.
The sound fizzes through Jedao like sparks along a fuse; he gasps and bites a little harder. He uses the hand in Arthur's hair and a nudge against his hip to start walking him back toward the couch, without ever taking his mouth off of him.
The ungovernable Arthur Lester lets himself be nudged backwards, still clinging to Jedao, and when the backs of his calves find the couch there's a short noise of surprise from him and he staggers, landing on the cushion with one hand half-flailed to balance him. His face is burning hot, but there's no hesitation as he reaches up to grab Jedao's face himself and kiss him back, biting lines down his neck as his hands work to expose his collarbone.
Jedao groans and straddles Arthur's hips with his knees, his body leaning over Arthur's, covering him as he pours himself eagerly into the kiss. He keeps one hand in Arthur's hair, the the other moving to help him get Jedao's shirt open.
Between the both of them it's messy but efficient work in getting Jedao's shirt open, and Arthur reaches up to shrug it off of his shoulders to bare his chest fully.
And he just. Takes a moment, to ghost his hands down Jedao's ribs, tracing the faint play of muscles on his chest. Before he splays one between Jedao's shoulder blades so he can pull him in and wrap his lips around one of his nipples, dragging his other hand down Jedao's hips and into his waistband.
Jedao moans, soft and low and shocked, not just at the jolt that goes through him from the heat of Arthur's mouth, but at sudden upset of his expectations yet again. He'd thought -
Well. Jedao mentally consigns 'going slow' and 'let me be consumed' into the same 'poetry - not literal' bin and rocks his hips into Arthur's hand, grinding down on him a little at the same time.
The grind makes him sink into the couch, and the shock of contact against his own growing hardness makes him moan sharply, panting in surprise against his chest, and the grip turns tight on Jedao's hip bone so he can roll up into him the next time Jedao pushes down.
Jedao moans a little louder; the tight grip of Arthur's hand on his hip rings through him like a bell. He could probably wriggle out of the tangle of his shirt around his elbows, but the way it keeps his arms tugged back feels delicious in his shoulders, in the put of his stomach, in the ache of his cock in his pants. He rocks harder this time, deliberate at hungry.
It's hard to keep a rhythm with his mouth when Jedao keeps pressing into him so vigorously, leaving him panting and wanting, so he forces himself to shuffle into the back of the couch, and brings both hands down to unbuckle Jedao's pants and shift them lower, and he's unsurprised to see him already fully hard but the sight of it makes him audibly swallow.
He glances up at Jedao's face, hands reaching to brace under the crease of his arse regardless, and his voice is heavy and hoarse already. "Can I...?"
It'll be yes, he's sure, if he knows anything about Jedao at all - but it's important that he hears it.
He shifts up on his knees, far enough that Arthur can deal with tugging down his pants while Jedao's own arms are still halfway trapped. He's not ashamed of anything but Arthur is still fully clothed, no matter how much Jedao can feel anyway. He feels almost unbearably exposed, and Arthur is looking at him, looking at him like that, touching him and not looking away. His attention feels like pins and needles over Jedao's skin, warm and tingling, and a pink flush crawls down his bare chest.
"Yes," he gasps instantly, like the word escaped him, bolting from his mouth. He wants Arthur's hands, he always does but right now more than ever, wants Arthur to touch him so desperately - and he knows Arthur wants to hear it -
"Please," he adds, hoarse and wide-eyed and utterly sincere, and this time the raw word is half-dragged out him.
The way Jedao practically begs him to touch him makes Arthur's pants feel painfully tight but he smiles, broad and soft and hungry, and he braces one hand around Jedao's thighs, digging his fingers into the opposite cheek so he can bring a hand around and wrap it, slowly and deliberately so Jedao can savour the sight of his long pianist's fingers fisting around his cock, and he gives it a long, gentle pull so he can rub the pad of his thumb over the head of it all.
Arthur's fucking smile makes his mouth go a little dry, and then Jedao is whining and whimpering, back arching into it a little, eyes riveted to the site. He gasps when Arthur rubs his thumb over the tip, hips jerking and twitching as he leaks precome under Arthur's touch.
It's not going to be a particularly glamorous handjob - Arthur is actually very poorly practiced on the matter, at least on another person - but it's slow and methodical, dragging the noises out of Jedao as he strokes his fingers up and down, sliding fingertips along the thick pulse point on its underside, bringing the hand supporting Jedao's arse in to tease the ghost of sensation between his cheeks, as he leans up to suck on Jedao's nipple again.
The slow, deliberate attention feels like a delicious tease; practiced or not Jedao is absolutely fixated on Arthur's fingers, quivering and groaning every time one of Arthur's guitar callouses catches him just so.
The noise he makes when Arthur teases his crack is almost inhuman, a wrenched-out wrecked noise of longing. He wants to be taken, he wants to be had, he wants to be Arthur's.
He wants to kiss him again, but Arthur's mouth is already on his chest again, shocking overwhelming sensation. Jedao writhes as little as he can, rolling his hips and trembling in Arthur's grip.
His hips jerk automatically with Jedao's shameless cry under his hands, groaning against his chest. It's an awkward angle to try and tease his hole but with a slight shift that practically traps Jedao's cock between them he manages it, circling it with one finger as he takes Jedao's length fully and starts stroking him in earnest.
Jedao finally squirms and tugs off his shirt the rest of the way so that he can brace his forearms on the arm of the couch, balancing to help Arthur access anything he wants, and so that he can move a little faster, rocking and panting and fucking into Arthur's hand. He wants to keep his eyes open, but it just gets harder and harder, and soon he's right on the edge, caught between Arthur's two hands, trapped in with pleasure even with his shirt fallen on the floor, moaning deep and loud and hungry.
"Christ, Jedao..." His voice is rough, wanting and desperate as he just watches Jedao unravel on top of him, watches his flushed, trembling form in ways he hadn't even dared dream of, and a part of him wants to stop so Jedao stays as open for him as he is right now.
"I've got you," he mumbles, leaning up to press another hungry kiss into his mouth as he twists his wrist just so, to bring his boyfriend fully undone.
Jedao half shouts, mercifully muffled by the kiss, his whole body going rigid as he comes messily over Arthur's hand and vest. He sways afterward, on the verge of collapsing, his usually constantly-churning mind whited out, with just the words I've got you stamped across it, like a single set of footprints in fresh snow.
Somehow in the moment he hadn't anticipated where the mess would be aimed, but he stays the course until Jedao finishes and goes limp in his lap. His own erection is still painfully hard but he ignores it, wiping his hand vaguely on a clean patch of vest so he can help Jedao lower onto the couch.
And when he's got Jedao settled, he leans in and gives him another long, luxurious kiss, gentle and warm as he brings his clean left hand up to wrap around the back of his neck and trail through the short hair at his nape.
His pants are still caught around his thighs, and it takes a moment before he has the coordination to shimmy out of them as Arthur nudges him back onto the couch. He kisses Arthur slowly, lazily, as shamelessly steamy as he is shamelessly naked.
Between kisses, he catches Arthur's right hand, haphazardly wiped but still damp and smeared with traces of come in a few spots. Jedao sits back enough to meet Arthur's eyes with a wicked, glittering look as Jedao brings Arthur's hand to his mouth. His tongue flicks out to lick his own mess from the lines of Arthur's palm and between Arthur's fingers, before he wraps his lips around each digit, sliding down as he sucks each one completely clean.
Arthur isn't expecting his hand to be caught, and almost pulls away until it's brought back into his line of sight, and his eyes go wide when Jedao brings it to his mouth and licks him clean, and Arthur whimpers at the touch, of the absurd intimacy of Jedao's tongue tracing between his long fingers, and Jedao will be be able to see how there's only a fractional sliver of amber-brown left around his fully blown pupils.
If he hadn't just come, he'd be aching again already. He's daydreamed about Arthur's fingers in his mouth so many times, but he never could have imagined Arthur's face looking like this. As his mouth pulls off the last joint of Arthur's thumb with a soft pop, he drops his hand to where Arthur's pants are straining, and runs a terribly light finger along the line of his zipper.
"May I...?" he echoes, eyes almost as dark, grinning as he wets his lips with one more tiny flick of his tongue.
So distracted by Jedao's mouth as he is, he almost misses the hand approaching his crotch until the light press makes him gasp, a stuttered out "God--" which isn't technically an answer but his hips bucking into that joke of pressure might be.
Jedao beams at him, any attempted smugness drowned in sheer eager delight. He grabs a mismatched throw pillow from the couch as he half-slithers, half-collapses down to the floor.
He gets his hands under Arthur's thighs and moves him to the edge of the couch, pushes his knees apart so Jedao can get between them. Jedao is trim but stronger than he looks, a result of years of repressed emotions funneled into exercise. He doesn't bother getting Arthur's pants off, just undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, gently - almost reverently - sliding his hands in to pull Arthur's cock out of his underwear.
Arthur is trembling with desire, and the sheer sight of Jedao getting on his knees for him makes his breathing hitch as he swallows thickly. And he doesn't resist the way Jedao drags him into place, just shifts with it so he stays upright.
There's a distinct damp patch on his underwear as Jedao frees him, and he covers his mouth with one hand to muffle the intensity of his moan at the sensation of those short, strong fingers around his length as his hips tremble with the force it takes not to fuck his hand already.
Gently moves the horny CR meme to private
Arthur's hands find purchase on Jedao's waist, knotting fistfuls of shirt in a desperate grip as he kisses back with determined, slightly drunken hunger, letting Jedao set the pace with pleasure. The hand in his hair and the sting of his scalp make him gasp, and he keens at the sensation of teeth on his throat.
:>
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And he just. Takes a moment, to ghost his hands down Jedao's ribs, tracing the faint play of muscles on his chest. Before he splays one between Jedao's shoulder blades so he can pull him in and wrap his lips around one of his nipples, dragging his other hand down Jedao's hips and into his waistband.
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Well. Jedao mentally consigns 'going slow' and 'let me be consumed' into the same 'poetry - not literal' bin and rocks his hips into Arthur's hand, grinding down on him a little at the same time.
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He glances up at Jedao's face, hands reaching to brace under the crease of his arse regardless, and his voice is heavy and hoarse already. "Can I...?"
It'll be yes, he's sure, if he knows anything about Jedao at all - but it's important that he hears it.
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"Yes," he gasps instantly, like the word escaped him, bolting from his mouth. He wants Arthur's hands, he always does but right now more than ever, wants Arthur to touch him so desperately - and he knows Arthur wants to hear it -
"Please," he adds, hoarse and wide-eyed and utterly sincere, and this time the raw word is half-dragged out him.
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The noise he makes when Arthur teases his crack is almost inhuman, a wrenched-out wrecked noise of longing. He wants to be taken, he wants to be had, he wants to be Arthur's.
He wants to kiss him again, but Arthur's mouth is already on his chest again, shocking overwhelming sensation. Jedao writhes as little as he can, rolling his hips and trembling in Arthur's grip.
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"I've got you," he mumbles, leaning up to press another hungry kiss into his mouth as he twists his wrist just so, to bring his boyfriend fully undone.
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And when he's got Jedao settled, he leans in and gives him another long, luxurious kiss, gentle and warm as he brings his clean left hand up to wrap around the back of his neck and trail through the short hair at his nape.
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Between kisses, he catches Arthur's right hand, haphazardly wiped but still damp and smeared with traces of come in a few spots. Jedao sits back enough to meet Arthur's eyes with a wicked, glittering look as Jedao brings Arthur's hand to his mouth. His tongue flicks out to lick his own mess from the lines of Arthur's palm and between Arthur's fingers, before he wraps his lips around each digit, sliding down as he sucks each one completely clean.
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"May I...?" he echoes, eyes almost as dark, grinning as he wets his lips with one more tiny flick of his tongue.
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So he tries a bit harder. "Yes, f-fuck, please."
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He gets his hands under Arthur's thighs and moves him to the edge of the couch, pushes his knees apart so Jedao can get between them. Jedao is trim but stronger than he looks, a result of years of repressed emotions funneled into exercise. He doesn't bother getting Arthur's pants off, just undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, gently - almost reverently - sliding his hands in to pull Arthur's cock out of his underwear.
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There's a distinct damp patch on his underwear as Jedao frees him, and he covers his mouth with one hand to muffle the intensity of his moan at the sensation of those short, strong fingers around his length as his hips tremble with the force it takes not to fuck his hand already.
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