[ Sarica's clothes rustle as he tends to himself and Anakin listens, feeling dazed still and curiously anchored to his body, like his mind can't really get beyond all these physical factualities; the pleasure, rooted in his muscles. The wetness along his arse, between his buttocks. The sticky cum trails drying on his skin. He blinks and tilts his head a little as Sarica moves from the background to the foreground, coming into view, more or less cock first. It's wet and red at the tip, the man's clearly been holding back.
The thought makes his body tingle with affection.
He looks up at Sarica as the man presses his cock against his chin, running his fingers along his lips. He thinks for half a second that he wants his cock sucked and is just about to part his lips because why not - but instead, Sarica tells him to close his eyes and though it makes him frown very slightly in confusion, he does it. Right now, at this very moment, it feels as if Sarica couldn't ask anything of him that he wouldn't want to give.
As such, he hears and senses more than sees as Sarica jerks off next to his face; the slick sound of his hand working his cock and the smell of arousal and skin. He breathes slowly, steadily, and he's just about to open his eyes because the thought of that visual's too tempting to miss when Sarica puts his hand over his eyes instead. It's hot and damp and so big that Anakin's blinded by it, thrown into darkness.
He blinks owlishly against the other man's palm.
Then, oh, there - Sarica comes all over his face, wet spurts landing on his chin, his lips, his nose. He smiles and parts his lips a little more, licking them, taking what he's offered here, too. His metal hand steadier than the rest of his body, he runs his hand blindly up Sarica's naked thigh, stroking the skin slowly, letting him finish. ]
That's good.
[ He leans forward despite the hand covering his eyes and kisses what he can reach of Sarica's cock, lips finding the tip, the underside of the head. ]
[ The exhaustion comes only secondly, seeping into his bones with a great, heavy weight and Sarica stands, leaning in over him, shaking very slightly and all his muscles trembling, his hand stilling against the root of his cock, until he feels himself lose hardness and he just... lets go, lets Anakin, who's leaned in and is licking at him, greedily have his fill, too. He deserves it. Deserves to be treated. Himself, Sarica just looks down at him, slightly stunned, watching his lips part, tongue dart out, getting the cum he's left in traces here and there. There's something very gentle about it. About the way Anakin tells him to get what you need, as well. Sarica runs his cum-streaked hand up over his forehead, pushing his sweat-sticky bangs out of his face, getting them good and cum-covered in turn, and he looks at his face, then, holding him by the back of his head, just holding on.
He used to share Timachus with his friends, the same way you parade your best stallion at the markets to attract more buyers. Just the thought of doing something similar with Anakin makes Sarica feel nauseaus now and he bends down slowly, thereby pulling out of the other man's reach with his cock, instead kissing his cheek, where he's marked him with his cum. Mine, it says, but not in gold. In something else. Something stronger. He licks off the first couple of strings of the stuff, extending along Anakin's cheek and nose, then he kisses his nose tip, then his lips. Getting a taste of himself.
It's a superficial, light kiss, but it's warm and it tastes like them both. He reeks of Anakin now, honestly, but the truth remains that he'll no doubt reek of Anakin in every imaginable way for a long, long time to come. He'll carry his everything, he'll carry his scent, too. Gladly.
Drawing back and straightening up, Sarica turns towards the window. It's gotten dark outside in the meantime. Even if Toril should lurk about after nightfall tonight, Sarica can't make him out and that's all that matters, that they aren't disturbed in this little world of theirs. ]
I have.
[ He says, fixing his tunic absentmindedly and thinking, this could be how it will end. ]
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no subject
The thought makes his body tingle with affection.
He looks up at Sarica as the man presses his cock against his chin, running his fingers along his lips. He thinks for half a second that he wants his cock sucked and is just about to part his lips because why not - but instead, Sarica tells him to close his eyes and though it makes him frown very slightly in confusion, he does it. Right now, at this very moment, it feels as if Sarica couldn't ask anything of him that he wouldn't want to give.
As such, he hears and senses more than sees as Sarica jerks off next to his face; the slick sound of his hand working his cock and the smell of arousal and skin. He breathes slowly, steadily, and he's just about to open his eyes because the thought of that visual's too tempting to miss when Sarica puts his hand over his eyes instead. It's hot and damp and so big that Anakin's blinded by it, thrown into darkness.
He blinks owlishly against the other man's palm.
Then, oh, there - Sarica comes all over his face, wet spurts landing on his chin, his lips, his nose. He smiles and parts his lips a little more, licking them, taking what he's offered here, too. His metal hand steadier than the rest of his body, he runs his hand blindly up Sarica's naked thigh, stroking the skin slowly, letting him finish. ]
That's good.
[ He leans forward despite the hand covering his eyes and kisses what he can reach of Sarica's cock, lips finding the tip, the underside of the head. ]
Get what you need.
no subject
He used to share Timachus with his friends, the same way you parade your best stallion at the markets to attract more buyers. Just the thought of doing something similar with Anakin makes Sarica feel nauseaus now and he bends down slowly, thereby pulling out of the other man's reach with his cock, instead kissing his cheek, where he's marked him with his cum. Mine, it says, but not in gold. In something else. Something stronger. He licks off the first couple of strings of the stuff, extending along Anakin's cheek and nose, then he kisses his nose tip, then his lips. Getting a taste of himself.
It's a superficial, light kiss, but it's warm and it tastes like them both. He reeks of Anakin now, honestly, but the truth remains that he'll no doubt reek of Anakin in every imaginable way for a long, long time to come. He'll carry his everything, he'll carry his scent, too. Gladly.
Drawing back and straightening up, Sarica turns towards the window. It's gotten dark outside in the meantime. Even if Toril should lurk about after nightfall tonight, Sarica can't make him out and that's all that matters, that they aren't disturbed in this little world of theirs. ]
I have.
[ He says, fixing his tunic absentmindedly and thinking, this could be how it will end. ]