[ 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
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. ]