( Having the presence of mind to make that cheeky little comment tells Esikko that he's not quite there yet. It's cute, though, the way he tries to hold himself together, the words that cross between too formal and too blunt like he's really struggling to be human at all, the eager little grasps at his hips. He does feel wanted, right now, but it's going to feel even better when Ivan does snap and lose some of that control.
Whatever way that happens, whether in embarrassing little whines and begging or forcing him over into a pin, doesn't really matter. It's the thrill of it that Esikko is after, the control regardless of his own position that he feels like he can have over Ivan, like this— it feels too nice. It's downright addicting. Intoxicating.
So it does make him smile, a little, that he says he wants to make him feel wanted. That's his goal too, after all. To be wanted. )
Hehe... ( A quiet little giggle of a laugh, matched with a grasp to the side to snatch that bottle up. It means his hand abandons Ivan's length for that short period of time, adding to that throbbing ache as he makes a show of flicking the lid open and squeezing a bit into his own palm. It's a clean motion, maybe too-practiced, but the bottle gets forgotten aside as he brings his lube-slick palm back to Ivan, smearing it across the length of his shaft. )
I'll feel the most wanted when that tense cord of yours finally snaps. ( His fingers squeeze and curve around him, palm rubbing against his tip before sliding back down, ensuring there's a thorough coat of slick. ) Your patience, I mean. When you stop holding back.
( Because he feels like he can see it, in the muffling of his noises, in the shortness of his breath matched with little lifts of his hips. His lips crash back into Ivan's, hand once more abandoning the other man— but only temporarily, so that he can slip two fingers into himself, burying the soft noise that it draws out into another deep kiss. His own cock presses in the lean of his body against Ivan's thigh, hard and aching with his own desire. It's taking every bit of self control to go this slow, to take the time to finger himself for any sort of prep, but he's trying to drive him even more insane. More desperate, more—
He whispers against his lips in between the kiss, a stop for only a breath and a few words: ) I'm yours for tonight, so cut as deep as you want.
[ Esikko was trying while Ivan already felt himself on the edge of his sanity. It was bad when It was merely touches and kisses. This was worse. The control seesawed back and forth with the struggle to wait and not take him with wild abandon. Ivan was able to get out the way he wanted them to be together, but now came the next text.
The release of his cock was an ache that felt criminal. To be bereft of his touch was almost enough to snap that taut cord in his chest, Ivan breathing out slowly. His hands shot out to hold Esikko's cheeks faster than he even realized he moved, eyes wide. It was just a short moment, but it was enough to break his control and push him that much closer to snapping the final threads.
A breath hisses out when he feels that hand again, his breath shuttering. He didn't know how much longer he could hold back. It was burning away at years and years of practiced detachment. Now he felt like the only thing that could satisfy him in that moment was all of him.
The kiss crashed over his lips the moment he snapped. It was enough before, but now he was on the cusp of getting to be inside him and nothing felt like enough anymore. Every soft sound washed over him like a boon. ]
Yi Seul... Yiseul...
[ It was too slow. He couldn't handle it anymore. With glazed eyes, his hands move down to wrap his arms around him and push up and to the side to maneuver. He didn't want to hurt him, but that 'right mind' was no longer the one controlling the way he presses his body against Esikko with another low call of that name just for him, kissing him with need and adjusting his body against him to pin him in place and rut desperately while getting into position.
His hands adjusted down to grab the other's hips, Ivan's lips trailing kisses and bites down his jaw to his neck. Without a second thought he bit down, reaching between them, to press his tip at his entrance so he could slide in. ]
( He was expecting to break Ivan's control— that had been the purpose, after all, to tease and poke and prod and lure him along to it, to drive him insane enough to feel as thoroughly wanted as possible, to fill this void in his heart driven by this longing for closeness— but he hadn't expected that it would snap his own so thoroughly in one swipe, either.
Yi Seul.
The name sounds out of Ivan's lips in a moan, and the breath slips entirely from his own lungs in a soft exhale, heavy with an emotion he can't describe. His name, again, his chosen name, and just as he's reeling from the way he feels getting to hear that in such an intimate moment, his world tips, and the soft plush of the mattress meets his back as Ivan's form leans over him.
His heart is pounding so hard, so loud, that he swears he can feel it in his throat, in his temples, in the tips of his fingers that now wrap and trail lightly along the shape of Ivan's back. His whole body feels on fire, despite the cool temperature of his skin, and he's flushed for it all the same. In the dark of this room, though, there's only the rustling of the sheets, the harshness of their shared breaths, and two hands at his hips pulling him into the meeting of their bodies. A bite joined with the press inside of him has him gasping out louder than he normally does, voice cracking into a moan that's more embarrassing than he normally allows himself. )
Ah‐
( Fuck— warmth blossoms from everywhere Ivan touches him. Inside of him, at the bite of his neck, at the fingers at his hips. His grip on his own words that had been previously forcing them closer to this edge has been lost in the moment, now, and he's out of them. Instead, his back arches, his head tilts back to press into the bed as he soaks into the desire radiating from Ivan. One arm slips free from his loose hold on Ivan to flop uselessly against the sheets, twisting into them as he pants out, eyes lidded with a longing that's out in far more plain view than he'd normally prefer. )
Ivan... ( Softly, a little choked, as he forces himself to relax, hips lifting to try and welcome Ivan closer, deeper. His legs, too, move in antsy squirms, one knee hooking itself around the back of Ivan's as if to anchor him in place. The hand that hasn't dropped away slips back up to lace through dark hair, twisting into a tight hold as he continues. ) Don't stop.
( Insistent, almost threatening, like there's a don't you dare tucked away in there that he doesn't have the breath to get out. He doesn't want him to back off just because he's been fragile in some ways. He wants to feel everything. Wants every intense emotion he can grasp at. )
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no subject
Whatever way that happens, whether in embarrassing little whines and begging or forcing him over into a pin, doesn't really matter. It's the thrill of it that Esikko is after, the control regardless of his own position that he feels like he can have over Ivan, like this— it feels too nice. It's downright addicting. Intoxicating.
So it does make him smile, a little, that he says he wants to make him feel wanted. That's his goal too, after all. To be wanted. )
Hehe... ( A quiet little giggle of a laugh, matched with a grasp to the side to snatch that bottle up. It means his hand abandons Ivan's length for that short period of time, adding to that throbbing ache as he makes a show of flicking the lid open and squeezing a bit into his own palm. It's a clean motion, maybe too-practiced, but the bottle gets forgotten aside as he brings his lube-slick palm back to Ivan, smearing it across the length of his shaft. )
I'll feel the most wanted when that tense cord of yours finally snaps. ( His fingers squeeze and curve around him, palm rubbing against his tip before sliding back down, ensuring there's a thorough coat of slick. ) Your patience, I mean. When you stop holding back.
( Because he feels like he can see it, in the muffling of his noises, in the shortness of his breath matched with little lifts of his hips. His lips crash back into Ivan's, hand once more abandoning the other man— but only temporarily, so that he can slip two fingers into himself, burying the soft noise that it draws out into another deep kiss. His own cock presses in the lean of his body against Ivan's thigh, hard and aching with his own desire. It's taking every bit of self control to go this slow, to take the time to finger himself for any sort of prep, but he's trying to drive him even more insane. More desperate, more—
He whispers against his lips in between the kiss, a stop for only a breath and a few words: ) I'm yours for tonight, so cut as deep as you want.
no subject
The release of his cock was an ache that felt criminal. To be bereft of his touch was almost enough to snap that taut cord in his chest, Ivan breathing out slowly. His hands shot out to hold Esikko's cheeks faster than he even realized he moved, eyes wide. It was just a short moment, but it was enough to break his control and push him that much closer to snapping the final threads.
A breath hisses out when he feels that hand again, his breath shuttering. He didn't know how much longer he could hold back. It was burning away at years and years of practiced detachment. Now he felt like the only thing that could satisfy him in that moment was all of him.
The kiss crashed over his lips the moment he snapped. It was enough before, but now he was on the cusp of getting to be inside him and nothing felt like enough anymore. Every soft sound washed over him like a boon. ]
Yi Seul... Yiseul...
[ It was too slow. He couldn't handle it anymore. With glazed eyes, his hands move down to wrap his arms around him and push up and to the side to maneuver. He didn't want to hurt him, but that 'right mind' was no longer the one controlling the way he presses his body against Esikko with another low call of that name just for him, kissing him with need and adjusting his body against him to pin him in place and rut desperately while getting into position.
His hands adjusted down to grab the other's hips, Ivan's lips trailing kisses and bites down his jaw to his neck. Without a second thought he bit down, reaching between them, to press his tip at his entrance so he could slide in. ]
no subject
Yi Seul.
The name sounds out of Ivan's lips in a moan, and the breath slips entirely from his own lungs in a soft exhale, heavy with an emotion he can't describe. His name, again, his chosen name, and just as he's reeling from the way he feels getting to hear that in such an intimate moment, his world tips, and the soft plush of the mattress meets his back as Ivan's form leans over him.
His heart is pounding so hard, so loud, that he swears he can feel it in his throat, in his temples, in the tips of his fingers that now wrap and trail lightly along the shape of Ivan's back. His whole body feels on fire, despite the cool temperature of his skin, and he's flushed for it all the same. In the dark of this room, though, there's only the rustling of the sheets, the harshness of their shared breaths, and two hands at his hips pulling him into the meeting of their bodies. A bite joined with the press inside of him has him gasping out louder than he normally does, voice cracking into a moan that's more embarrassing than he normally allows himself. )
Ah‐
( Fuck— warmth blossoms from everywhere Ivan touches him. Inside of him, at the bite of his neck, at the fingers at his hips. His grip on his own words that had been previously forcing them closer to this edge has been lost in the moment, now, and he's out of them. Instead, his back arches, his head tilts back to press into the bed as he soaks into the desire radiating from Ivan. One arm slips free from his loose hold on Ivan to flop uselessly against the sheets, twisting into them as he pants out, eyes lidded with a longing that's out in far more plain view than he'd normally prefer. )
Ivan... ( Softly, a little choked, as he forces himself to relax, hips lifting to try and welcome Ivan closer, deeper. His legs, too, move in antsy squirms, one knee hooking itself around the back of Ivan's as if to anchor him in place. The hand that hasn't dropped away slips back up to lace through dark hair, twisting into a tight hold as he continues. ) Don't stop.
( Insistent, almost threatening, like there's a don't you dare tucked away in there that he doesn't have the breath to get out. He doesn't want him to back off just because he's been fragile in some ways. He wants to feel everything. Wants every intense emotion he can grasp at. )