[ He has to take care right now not to come, slicking up and trying to touch himself as minimally as possible. All the same, he's not going to be too superficial about it - after all, he still remembers the last time he took Sarica, down by the river with the embers smoldering next to them. It had been almost impossibly tight and maybe a little rough and they hadn't minded, neither of them, but tonight? Tonight, he'll have a care. I love you he said.
Anakin will be worth it.
Breathing out raggedly, he finishes getting himself ready, working his finger shallowly in and out of Sarica's arse, the other man pushing back onto his finger, basically fucking himself, very clearly opening up to him, making room. His belly flutters at the thought. Gently, he pulls his finger out and shifts, moving up between the other man's spread legs and pulling them apart just a little more, enough to make room. Then, he leans down and places his metal hand next to Sarica's face, right above his shoulder. He holds himself up like that, bending at the shoulder joint and slipping forward, his cock sliding between the other man's buttocks. That slight friction alone is almost enough to do him in and he moans, biting his bottom lip hard and breathing out harshly, before he reaches down with his free hand and angles his cock upwards.
With the head, he seeks out Sarica's wet arsehole and presses in. He takes his time, feeling the other man's muscles widening slowly around the intrusion and while he's going gently, he isn't stopping, either. His cock pops past his rim ten seconds later and his head feels devoid of oxygen, like there's nothing left to fuel him except the heat in his groin and the way his cock and balls are throbbing to go. He moans and cranes his neck down, burying his face in the back of Sarica's head. He gets his hair absolutely everywhere and when he breathes, he feels like he's drowning in him, like his senses have been blinded to anything but him.
It's perfect.
Moaning again, his voice lighter and maybe closer to a whimper than he'd like to admit, Anakin pushes in the rest of the way, inch by inch, until he's fully seated. ]
[ Withdrawing his finger, Anakin places his metal hand next to Sarica's face instead and Sarica lets his head tip all the way over until he's basically lying in plain view of it, staring at the dark metal, how it both absorbs and reflects the light, the oil lamp in the corner. It's beautiful. Then again, Anakin's beautiful in general, this is just one more part of the whole. He looks at the curves and angles of the joints, the smoothness of the lines and, mostly out of the blue, imagines what his friends would say, if they knew, if they saw. Ulos would think this was another shared enterprise, like Timachus was, like their various projects and their implied personnel. He'd think he had the right.
They all would, greedy bastards.
Sarica frowns, shifts, feels the other man lean in over him, the head of his cock slipping up between his buttocks as he positions himself over him. Someone, or several of them, all of them, would think this was the wrong way around, that Anakin was to be bent and to be broken and the mere thought... His fingers tighten into fists against his own skin, the frown deepening, deepening, until Anakin starts pushing in against the rim of his arsehole, slightly loosened, but not enough by far. He groans slightly, the harsh stretch of the other man entering him, forcing him open, gently, but tangibly, making him finally just close his eyes. Shutting Ulos and the others out. Gone.
They can think what they want. He won't let them, he won't let them as much as touch. What's his, yes, but ultimately Anakin's own, too.
The intrusion is slow and careful, Sarica can feel how Anakin is holding back and giving his body time to adjust. He hadn't needed to, surely, but he does and in these things, symbolic significance counts for more. Not to mention, the way his arsehole is singing, opening up to him, hurting, too, but there it is, again. Balance. He opens his eyes again and looks at the sleek curves of Anakin's metallic forearm. His hand. His cock in his body. A slight gasp as the other man bends his neck and, moaning, gorgeously, buries his face in his hair.
Yes.
Sarica shifts, pushing back against the rest of the forward motion, taking him all the way to the hilt, while simultaneously freeing his right arm and reaching up behind him, slipping his fingers, shaking and sweaty, into Anakin's hair, fingertips gracing temple on the way. Yes.
His arse feels full and stretched and if he rubbed up just slightly, he could find his own spot, but he doesn't. He wants it to last. He wants Anakin to lead, take him there. Tightening his fingers harshly in the other man's strands, long, soft in his hold, he says, panting, voice full of air: ]
Stay here. [ Here, in his body, in his arse. But also here, here. Stay here with him, he wishes. He isn't asking, of course, because he knows Anakin doesn't belong to Efith, but he says the words regardless, because he wants and he's never wanted anything like this. That he couldn't take. ] For a while longer.
[ He sinks in, oh, all the way. Sarica invites him in that last inch, twisting his hips upwards and pushing back. It's always been plainly obvious, how Sarica's had so many lovers (or whatever you'd want to call them) and at times like these, it's something he can't help but remember, even as he pushes the thought away as fast and violently as he can. It's not anything against Sarica, obviously.
He just hates the thought of anyone else...
Eyes falling shut amidst Sarica's hair, leaning into the pressure of his fingertips and letting him settle properly in his system, Anakin takes a moment to simply stay buried in the other man, letting him feel it. Stay says Sarica and why wouldn't he, why wouldn't he stay forever, really? Sure, he's going to have to go back to Coruscant at some point, probably, but that doesn't mean they have to be separated. He smiles faintly against the back of Sarica's head before nuzzling in deep enough to kiss what he can of his scalp. The other man's hot beneath his lips and it doesn't matter, now, whether he's treated others badly, whether others have treated him badly in kind. ]
I really... [ He swallows heavily. Stays, his cock throbbing and his balls so tight between his legs that it's almost unbearable. ] I really gotta move.
[ With that, he pulls out. Slowly, he shifts his hips backwards, until his cock is close to popping free of the other man's arse. With a harsh exhalation, he pushes back inside, his muscles straining, the motion shooting a spark of pleasure deep inside his groin. He buries himself deep, then repeats, feeling how he pushes the other man against the bed with his next thrust. He keeps his face pressed to the back of Sarica's head, mouthing wetly over his curls, his temple.
Carefully, he leans down on his flesh arm until he can rest his elbow on the bed next to Sarica's shoulder. He curls his lower arm under the other man's neck and collarbone, hugging him close to his body. Keeping him there, close, closer than close. Every time he sinks into him, he feels as if there's no end to either of them and the feeling is incredible. Moaning, he starts snapping his hips forward faster, just a little, just - oh. Oh, it's good, it's perfect, it's - ]
[ And because Anakin is good, to some degree, to some level, he stays put, he stays close, seated in Sarica's body completely immobile, just waiting for the pressure to rise, to overcome them both. Sarica basks in it, the intimacy of it, how close he feels, how he could perhaps trace every single vein in the other man's cock just from the proximity, everywhere they're touching. Inside and out. Then, voice shuddering, Anakin tells him he's got to move and Sarica relaxes his rim, lets him pull back without clenching around him, lets him take his pleasure from the friction and the slide. Sarica is, after all. He groans and lets his head fall forward, fists clenching, unclenching. He follows, easily, experienced, knowing just how to angle himself to feel him the most, the best. Anakin's big and fills him out. Fills him out good. The readjustment needed is minimal, really. He's had lovers before who could've learned from this twenty-three year old, yes? Men who've had their whole lives to practice the art, but know nothing.
And what Anakin doesn't know, he feels and Sarica will hone those feelings, if he's allowed, if...
Pushing back in, Anakin starts setting a pace, hips snapping forward, brisk fucking now, they're in need, they need this, to resolve this thing between them. Sarica pushes up against him, gets the angle right on the second try and feels how the other man pushes right over that spot in him on the second in-stroke. He feels himself shaking, violently, moaning low in his throat as he throws back his head and takes it, takes the pleasure, takes the way Anakin wants it. Wants him. Him, him, him. The other man slips his flesh arm around his torso and hugs him close, keeping his face buried in his curls, kissing at his scalp, temple, anything within reach that's got skin enough to feel it. Sarica opens his eyes, but sees very little. His vision's dark around the edges, blurry. His cock is getting rubbed insistently over the mattress now, for every thrust.
He might have expected that Anakin would come first. He is twenty-three years old, after all.
It doesn't happen that way.
One more thrust, one more and Sarica feels his whole body contract, from the muscles in his thighs and buttocks and up his back. He moans, louder now, arching his back sharply and pushing back, getting that angle, getting it, getting - And a second later, his arse contracts as well and he's coming, balls drawing up harshly. Sarica's arm muscles tense, release, tighten, too. He's caught like an archer's bowstring between the bed and Anakin's body, cock pulsing, spending himself in short, intense spurts.
The sounds he makes should embarrass him, but that would require excess mental energy. As it is, he's given him his all already. ]
[ He gets there almost as fast as Sarica - almost - because the other man does come first, his lower body contracting beneath him, buttocks, thighs, oh, his arse - eyes nearly crossing, Anakin pushes his face against Sarica's shoulder as the other man clenches around him, spending himself against the bed. The thought alone - it's not like he's even touched him... Gasping, mouth hanging open in a stupid way that he's happy no one can actually see, Anakin thrusts forward again, hard, burying himself to the base. He stays there for a second, then repeats the motion - once - twice - and there, oh.
Kriff.
His orgasm washes over him with a surprising ferocity and his metal hand actually clenches hard in the sheets as he anchors himself above, inside, Sarica, mouthing wordlessly against his skin. His cock pulses deep within the other man, pleasure melting through his muscles and he's frozen like that until it abates. From there, his arms actually start trembling and he sighs against Sarica's neck, kissing him briefly before he pulls out as gently as he can. His cock slips free with a wet pop and Anakin quickly rolls off to lie on his back next to Sarica, one leg slung over both of his. He curves one arm over his forehead and smiles, widely, his voice coming out decidedly winded: ]
You make the best noises.
[ He nudges Sarica with his shoulder gently and stays there, as he is, slick still and wet around the lips, his eyes already drooping. In a moment, he decides, he's going to head for the washer, just for a quick clean-up, but right now? He tracks the shadows on the ceiling with his eyes, seeing patterns there that he can't discern, something that looks like darkness fading into something else.
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no subject
Anakin will be worth it.
Breathing out raggedly, he finishes getting himself ready, working his finger shallowly in and out of Sarica's arse, the other man pushing back onto his finger, basically fucking himself, very clearly opening up to him, making room. His belly flutters at the thought. Gently, he pulls his finger out and shifts, moving up between the other man's spread legs and pulling them apart just a little more, enough to make room. Then, he leans down and places his metal hand next to Sarica's face, right above his shoulder. He holds himself up like that, bending at the shoulder joint and slipping forward, his cock sliding between the other man's buttocks. That slight friction alone is almost enough to do him in and he moans, biting his bottom lip hard and breathing out harshly, before he reaches down with his free hand and angles his cock upwards.
With the head, he seeks out Sarica's wet arsehole and presses in. He takes his time, feeling the other man's muscles widening slowly around the intrusion and while he's going gently, he isn't stopping, either. His cock pops past his rim ten seconds later and his head feels devoid of oxygen, like there's nothing left to fuel him except the heat in his groin and the way his cock and balls are throbbing to go. He moans and cranes his neck down, burying his face in the back of Sarica's head. He gets his hair absolutely everywhere and when he breathes, he feels like he's drowning in him, like his senses have been blinded to anything but him.
It's perfect.
Moaning again, his voice lighter and maybe closer to a whimper than he'd like to admit, Anakin pushes in the rest of the way, inch by inch, until he's fully seated. ]
no subject
They all would, greedy bastards.
Sarica frowns, shifts, feels the other man lean in over him, the head of his cock slipping up between his buttocks as he positions himself over him. Someone, or several of them, all of them, would think this was the wrong way around, that Anakin was to be bent and to be broken and the mere thought... His fingers tighten into fists against his own skin, the frown deepening, deepening, until Anakin starts pushing in against the rim of his arsehole, slightly loosened, but not enough by far. He groans slightly, the harsh stretch of the other man entering him, forcing him open, gently, but tangibly, making him finally just close his eyes. Shutting Ulos and the others out. Gone.
They can think what they want. He won't let them, he won't let them as much as touch. What's his, yes, but ultimately Anakin's own, too.
The intrusion is slow and careful, Sarica can feel how Anakin is holding back and giving his body time to adjust. He hadn't needed to, surely, but he does and in these things, symbolic significance counts for more. Not to mention, the way his arsehole is singing, opening up to him, hurting, too, but there it is, again. Balance. He opens his eyes again and looks at the sleek curves of Anakin's metallic forearm. His hand. His cock in his body. A slight gasp as the other man bends his neck and, moaning, gorgeously, buries his face in his hair.
Yes.
Sarica shifts, pushing back against the rest of the forward motion, taking him all the way to the hilt, while simultaneously freeing his right arm and reaching up behind him, slipping his fingers, shaking and sweaty, into Anakin's hair, fingertips gracing temple on the way. Yes.
His arse feels full and stretched and if he rubbed up just slightly, he could find his own spot, but he doesn't. He wants it to last. He wants Anakin to lead, take him there. Tightening his fingers harshly in the other man's strands, long, soft in his hold, he says, panting, voice full of air: ]
Stay here. [ Here, in his body, in his arse. But also here, here. Stay here with him, he wishes. He isn't asking, of course, because he knows Anakin doesn't belong to Efith, but he says the words regardless, because he wants and he's never wanted anything like this. That he couldn't take. ] For a while longer.
no subject
He just hates the thought of anyone else...
Eyes falling shut amidst Sarica's hair, leaning into the pressure of his fingertips and letting him settle properly in his system, Anakin takes a moment to simply stay buried in the other man, letting him feel it. Stay says Sarica and why wouldn't he, why wouldn't he stay forever, really? Sure, he's going to have to go back to Coruscant at some point, probably, but that doesn't mean they have to be separated. He smiles faintly against the back of Sarica's head before nuzzling in deep enough to kiss what he can of his scalp. The other man's hot beneath his lips and it doesn't matter, now, whether he's treated others badly, whether others have treated him badly in kind. ]
I really... [ He swallows heavily. Stays, his cock throbbing and his balls so tight between his legs that it's almost unbearable. ] I really gotta move.
[ With that, he pulls out. Slowly, he shifts his hips backwards, until his cock is close to popping free of the other man's arse. With a harsh exhalation, he pushes back inside, his muscles straining, the motion shooting a spark of pleasure deep inside his groin. He buries himself deep, then repeats, feeling how he pushes the other man against the bed with his next thrust. He keeps his face pressed to the back of Sarica's head, mouthing wetly over his curls, his temple.
Carefully, he leans down on his flesh arm until he can rest his elbow on the bed next to Sarica's shoulder. He curls his lower arm under the other man's neck and collarbone, hugging him close to his body. Keeping him there, close, closer than close. Every time he sinks into him, he feels as if there's no end to either of them and the feeling is incredible. Moaning, he starts snapping his hips forward faster, just a little, just - oh. Oh, it's good, it's perfect, it's - ]
no subject
And what Anakin doesn't know, he feels and Sarica will hone those feelings, if he's allowed, if...
Pushing back in, Anakin starts setting a pace, hips snapping forward, brisk fucking now, they're in need, they need this, to resolve this thing between them. Sarica pushes up against him, gets the angle right on the second try and feels how the other man pushes right over that spot in him on the second in-stroke. He feels himself shaking, violently, moaning low in his throat as he throws back his head and takes it, takes the pleasure, takes the way Anakin wants it. Wants him. Him, him, him. The other man slips his flesh arm around his torso and hugs him close, keeping his face buried in his curls, kissing at his scalp, temple, anything within reach that's got skin enough to feel it. Sarica opens his eyes, but sees very little. His vision's dark around the edges, blurry. His cock is getting rubbed insistently over the mattress now, for every thrust.
He might have expected that Anakin would come first. He is twenty-three years old, after all.
It doesn't happen that way.
One more thrust, one more and Sarica feels his whole body contract, from the muscles in his thighs and buttocks and up his back. He moans, louder now, arching his back sharply and pushing back, getting that angle, getting it, getting - And a second later, his arse contracts as well and he's coming, balls drawing up harshly. Sarica's arm muscles tense, release, tighten, too. He's caught like an archer's bowstring between the bed and Anakin's body, cock pulsing, spending himself in short, intense spurts.
The sounds he makes should embarrass him, but that would require excess mental energy. As it is, he's given him his all already. ]
no subject
Kriff.
His orgasm washes over him with a surprising ferocity and his metal hand actually clenches hard in the sheets as he anchors himself above, inside, Sarica, mouthing wordlessly against his skin. His cock pulses deep within the other man, pleasure melting through his muscles and he's frozen like that until it abates. From there, his arms actually start trembling and he sighs against Sarica's neck, kissing him briefly before he pulls out as gently as he can. His cock slips free with a wet pop and Anakin quickly rolls off to lie on his back next to Sarica, one leg slung over both of his. He curves one arm over his forehead and smiles, widely, his voice coming out decidedly winded: ]
You make the best noises.
[ He nudges Sarica with his shoulder gently and stays there, as he is, slick still and wet around the lips, his eyes already drooping. In a moment, he decides, he's going to head for the washer, just for a quick clean-up, but right now? He tracks the shadows on the ceiling with his eyes, seeing patterns there that he can't discern, something that looks like darkness fading into something else.
He feels Sarica all over himself, inside and out.
Beautiful. ]