Moving round the room, nervously checking bathroom, window, door - it's automatic to memorise escape routes - Gil finally approaches and stops in front of him.
"I trust you," he says. "But what - I mean, do you want - " he sighs.
The stance is closed in and defensive yet Gil surely isn't a threat? He steps back a little then puts his hands on Michael's hips.
Michael reaches out and pushes the door closed. Then he pushes a hand through Gil's hair. "No. We can move over there." He points in the general direction of the bed with his free hand.
Butting his head against Michael's hand, Gil backs away, one hand still on Michael's hip, the other popping the buttons on his shirt then slipping inside to make little circles on his chest with gentle fingertips.
He moves as Gil does, staying as close as needed. The hand on his chest is pleasant, nice.
"I'll only hurt you if you ask me to, though I'd rather you not."
He takes several deep breaths as they continue across the floor. "And, I only have one other rule. There are two triangle-shaped scars on my back, between my shoulders; please don't touch them."
Michael leans in, his head tilted so his nose barely traces over the lines of the side of Gil's face, down to his neck.
Tilting his head to bare his throat, Gil finishes unbuttoning Michael's shirt then undoes the two buttons fastening his own. He shakes it off, shuddering slightly at the touch on his neck, then leans forward a little - not far because he's much smaller than his companion - to bite gently at Michael's collar bone.
"You taste good," he whispers against his skin. "Does all of you taste this good?" And he drops his hands to Michael's belt.
He moves his arms enough to let the shirt fall to the floor, then moves them back, one on the side of Gil's head, the other at his shoulder; still nipping at the man's neck.
He groans deep in his chest at the contact from Gil's mouth to his skin.
Then, he trails his tongue up to Gil's ear and whispers, "Why don't you find out?"
Gil laughs, soft and deep and begins to move, fast and fluid, his mouth moving, kissing, nipping, gentle little bites while his hands continue to be busy.
Michael's shoulders are thoroughly tasted, so are the planes of his chest though Gil lingers lovingly over a nipple.
Michael drops his hands to his sides; he wouldn't want to impede any of the progress. He closes his eyes and his head rolls back and he sighs at the feel of Gil touching, tasting. He's missed this - attentive lovers.
A hand moves back into Gil's hair. "More." More 'what' is up to Gil to determine.
Gil's arms are at Michael's waist, his hands slipping beneath his loosened waistband, easing fabric down and away.
He pushes back against Michael's hand, tilting his head back to look up at him, his eyes no longer quite human but soft and dark. Gil has almost gone leaving the faun to his work. He coos appreciatively as he drops to his knees, hand busily ridding them of any impediment, then he sighs and rubs his cheek against Michael's bare thigh.
"This - is this 'more'?" he asks and bites his hip.
"I want everything," Gil breathes and nuzzles his way across his stomach to circle his navel with a tongue tip. "But I think you might like this," he adds softly and nuzzles downward, only a little further, mouth open to take him in.
There are few spells left to Gil since his accident but this is one he has traded for. Several hard nights paid to have this charm set, plus a couple of others, permanently.
He purrs as well, delighted to hear Michael's voice.Then he swallows, tongue and throat working busily, while his hands smooth down over hips and thighs calves and ankles and back up again to clasp around Michael's waist .
The touching. He likes... loves the touching. And he has yet to understand exactly why no one ever balks at the lines of scars everywhere. There are scratches in his legs - including the lovely new straight-line of a sword puncture; there are bite and claw marks on his chest; the slash on his face; even fresh nicks on his arms and neck.
He sighs into the touching and rubs his hands over Gil's arms once the other man's hands are settled at his hips again. "That's good," he moans.
And Gil does that special thing with his tongue, moaning deep in his throat, and slides both hands up Michael's chest to find and pinch his nipples, just below the threshold of pain.
He tries not to push too much weight into his hands and onto Gil's shoulders, but the 'special tongue thing' and the pinching push him just enough to send him over the edge. "Hell yes," he moans and kneads his fingers into Gil's shoulders.
Whimpering, Gil drinks him down, then turns them both round and gently urges him to sit on the bed then rests his head on his thighs for a moment before smiling at him.
"I expect you want me to go now," he says, reaching for his shirt.
He sits, brushing a hand through Gil's hair again.
When Gil reaches for his shirt, Michael stops him. "No." He looks down at him. "I told you, do whatever you want. That includes asking me what I want. If you ask, I'll tell you." He strokes his fingers along Gil's jaw. "If I wanted you to leave, I'd've said so."
Gil's eyes drift closed at the caress. Still kneeling at Michael's feet he tunrs his head a little to press his mouth to the inside of Michael's wrist.
"I'll stay then - what do you want Michael? How can I please you?"
"If that's what you want," Gil says against Michael's ear. He sucks the lobe gently as he smooths back his hair then begins to kiss him, brow, jawline, cheeks - anywhere but his mouth - and as he does so he moves them both onto the bed, stretching his meagre body over Michael's.
He relaxes beside him, his chin propped on his chest and smiles. "Have you got anything to make it easier?" he whispers.
Gil is enjoying being touched in such a gentle fashion so much that he almost misses. He snatches it from the air at the last minute, smiles again and drops his head to Michael's chest kissing and nibbling while he puts Michael's stuff to good use.
Long slender fingers investigate gently, then find the way and press home, Gil watching Michael's face. moving gently, they curl, stroking.
Michael rolls his head back, sighing happily at the sensations. Then Gil does something and he arches his back, moaning - it's wordless noise, but it's 'good' wordless noise that somehow ends with a panted, groaned version of "Oh, fuck."
Laughing a little, a soft sound of delight, Gil does it again - then again, while pressing soft kisses to each of Michael's rather well defined abs. He smiles to himself as he feels the evidence of Michael's renewed 'interest' shifting warm under his shoulder and kisses that as well.
Soon he judges Michael to be ready but waits - he loves to hear the soft moans and sighs - and perhaps, just perhaps, Michael will beg him...
Michael, head sill back, moans and mumbles pointless words. He reaches down and sifts his fingers into Gil's hair, tugging lightly - not enough to cause pain - and through clenched teeth, he comes as close to begging as he ever gets, "Now... yes..." and he even tosses a hissed, "please," onto the end.
"Oh yes," Gil whispers, readying himself. He moves, his head on Michael's chest, guiding himself into place, coaxing the strong legs up around his waist. "
"Oh yes," he whispers again, feeling the tug against his hair and moves in narrow hips flexing gently.
Michael looks down, watching Gil move, feeling him press forward, enter. He exhales, slowly and rubs a hand down Gil's back, over his shoulder, smooth, gentle touches. His other hand tousels Gil's hair and whispers, "You can't hurt me."
He half-smiles back as his eyes slide closed for a moment. Then, Michael braces his feet against the bed and tilts his hips a bit. Another soft moan as Gil touches him.
In response to Gil's whisper, he bends his head down and kisses at Gil's temple, tongue reaching out to trace nonsense patterns on his skin; hands still moving over the smaller man's body - one on his back, the other now able to trace detailed line-designs on his chest.
Gil giggles softly and just manages to stop himself from searching for Michael's lips. He jerks his face away with a gasp and nuzzles along his collarbone again, this time just letting him feel the edge of his teeth.
It figures that a man who took a sword thrust in his stride won't flinch from a lovebite or two.
The caressing hands on his back and chest just feel - wonderful.
Gil increases the power of his movements - he's stronger than his small framed body suggests - rocking both Michael and himself.
He notices the tiny jerk away from his mouth - he's seen it a number of time before, everyone does it - but he doesn't do anything to acknowledge it; he just shifts his head to allow more attention to his collarbone and throat. Teeth are nice and he groans his pleasure, encouraging more.
He keeps with the patterns on Gil's chest, but curls the fingers of the hand on Gil's back to scratch lightly over the skin there, digging in just a little with the increased rocking motion. Michael sifts his fingers into Gil's hair, tugs just a bit and hisses, "Yes," against his ear.
With one final bite, that leaves a little mark but he hopes Michael won't mind, Gil pushes himself up, one armed. He grabs a pillow and hooks his other arm under Michael's knee lifting him, then pushes the pillow under his back. The change of position should, he judges mean that each pump of his hips he will touch that sweet place inside that made Michael moan so nicely earlier.
"Better?" he asks, then leans back down to bite again.
He growls at the bite, but it's a good growl. Then, he offers a bit of assistance in the repositioning, knowing exactly what Gil's doing.
"Oh yes," it's another hissed phrase, whether in answer to Gil's question or just an expression of pleasure, may be hard to determine. "God, yes." And he reaches down to press his fingertips into the muscles along Gil's back, rubbing down and back up.
Taking the hands on his back as encouragement, Gil increases the pace, thrusting harder and faster. He abandons biting in favour of arching up to make room for his hand between their bellies to hold and grip Michael, thumb rubbing little circles.
Sweat breaks out on his shoulders and top lip - not from the effort but from sheer pleasure.
"Soon, yeah?" he pants. "Oh gods, Michael - soon."
His head rolls back again and he's panting. He moves his arm, rubbing down Gil's shoulder, over his arm, then back as Gil strokes him. "Mmmm, that's good," he mumbles.
He can feel himself getting closer. And he hears Gil say 'soon'. He nods, his hand tugging at Gil's hair again. "Yes. Soon." His other hand moves to grip the blanket in a fist.
And that is the signal for Gil's head to go back and he fails to breathe for a long moment. As the oxgen purges from his lungs so the pleasure builds and a spasm of welcome pain flashes through him.
Gil cries out, buried deep, and stops moving apart from the delicate shuddering that runs through him.
When he can breathe again his first breath is "Michael."
The last few strokes before Gil moves are just enough and his climax hits not long after Gil's and he moans deep, fingers gripping into the smaller man's shoulder. He feels the shudders and draws Gil down to his chest once he's breathing mostly-regularly again.
Michael brushes a hand over Gil's hair, feeling Gil's head rising and falling with his own breathing. He swallows hard and finds his voice. "Fuck, that was amazing." He rocks his head back a forth a couple times. "It has been far too long," he sighs contentedly and moves his other hand to trace invisible lines along Gil's back and arm.
Whimpering quietly and shuddeering with the aftershocks of pleasure, Gil withdraws but doesn't go far. He remains with his head on Michael's shoulder, clinging to him, their legs tangled together.
To be held like this is a luxury he adores - normally johns barely give him time to draw breath before shoving him out through the door. In fact - he sighs - nobody has cuddled him since the Tutu came and put an end to his 'arrangement' with Bartleby.
With a contented purr he nuzzles into Michael's neck. "Oh it was, amazing," he whispers, eyes closing.
Michael notes the way Gil tries to stay close and notes, also, in the back of his head, that if this had been someone else, before even his first trip to Milliways, he probably would've reacted afterward the way most people probably still do - shoved him out the door, barely tossing payment and the meager clothing behind him. That part hurts; burns his soul, that he would have ever acted that way toward anyone. It wasn't until the 'Tutu' and everything with Nick that touching and tenderness seemed so important.
He leans down and presses a kiss to Gil's forehead, at the same time, curling his arms around the man; the man who had done things, just now, simply to please him. In exchange for payment, probably, but still, the man would have done nearly anything he'd asked. Shit.
He whispers, "You can stay as long as you'd like." And he means it. He's not offering out of pity; he likes being warm; having someone nearby.
"Thank you," he says. "Just for a little while," and pulls the blankets around them as far as he can without moving. He rests his head on michaels' chest, listening to the strong and steady beat of his heart and relaxes, completely, for the first time for - oh, ages.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Nice place you've got here," he says.
no subject
He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
no subject
"I trust you," he says. "But what - I mean, do you want - " he sighs.
The stance is closed in and defensive yet Gil surely isn't a threat? He steps back a little then puts his hands on Michael's hips.
"You want it right there?" he asks.
no subject
no subject
"I trust you," he repeats again.
no subject
"I'll only hurt you if you ask me to, though I'd rather you not."
He takes several deep breaths as they continue across the floor. "And, I only have one other rule. There are two triangle-shaped scars on my back, between my shoulders; please don't touch them."
Michael leans in, his head tilted so his nose barely traces over the lines of the side of Gil's face, down to his neck.
no subject
"You taste good," he whispers against his skin. "Does all of you taste this good?" And he drops his hands to Michael's belt.
no subject
He groans deep in his chest at the contact from Gil's mouth to his skin.
Then, he trails his tongue up to Gil's ear and whispers, "Why don't you find out?"
no subject
Michael's shoulders are thoroughly tasted, so are the planes of his chest though Gil lingers lovingly over a nipple.
"Mmmm," he purrs. "Nice.
no subject
A hand moves back into Gil's hair. "More." More 'what' is up to Gil to determine.
no subject
He pushes back against Michael's hand, tilting his head back to look up at him, his eyes no longer quite human but soft and dark. Gil has almost gone leaving the faun to his work. He coos appreciatively as he drops to his knees, hand busily ridding them of any impediment, then he sighs and rubs his cheek against Michael's bare thigh.
"This - is this 'more'?" he asks and bites his hip.
no subject
"Whatever you want," he answers. He's not overly-demanding and generally, easy to please.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He purrs as well, delighted to hear Michael's voice.Then he swallows, tongue and throat working busily, while his hands smooth down over hips and thighs calves and ankles and back up again to clasp around Michael's waist .
no subject
He sighs into the touching and rubs his hands over Gil's arms once the other man's hands are settled at his hips again. "That's good," he moans.
no subject
The scars on Michael's body are honourably won - unlike the faint bruises on Gil's, yellowing on bicep and hip.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"I expect you want me to go now," he says, reaching for his shirt.
no subject
When Gil reaches for his shirt, Michael stops him. "No." He looks down at him. "I told you, do whatever you want. That includes asking me what I want. If you ask, I'll tell you." He strokes his fingers along Gil's jaw. "If I wanted you to leave, I'd've said so."
no subject
"I'll stay then - what do you want Michael? How can I please you?"
no subject
"I want you," he draws Gil forward a bit as he leans down and whispers against his ear, "to fuck me. It's been far too long."
no subject
He relaxes beside him, his chin propped on his chest and smiles. "Have you got anything to make it easier?" he whispers.
no subject
He smiles back and reaches toward the table beside the bed, pulling the drawer open and tossing the requested item at Gil. "Always."
no subject
Long slender fingers investigate gently, then find the way and press home, Gil watching Michael's face. moving gently, they curl, stroking.
There? It that the place?
no subject
Dear, God, yes!
no subject
Soon he judges Michael to be ready but waits - he loves to hear the soft moans and sighs - and perhaps, just perhaps, Michael will beg him...
That's such a boost to a fragile ego.
no subject
no subject
"Oh yes," he whispers again, feeling the tug against his hair and moves in narrow hips flexing gently.
no subject
no subject
He leans on one elbow and slides his other hand down and down Michael's belly to take him in hand, caressing, hand moving in time with his hips.
"You feel fucking brilliant," he says in a throaty whisper.
no subject
In response to Gil's whisper, he bends his head down and kisses at Gil's temple, tongue reaching out to trace nonsense patterns on his skin; hands still moving over the smaller man's body - one on his back, the other now able to trace detailed line-designs on his chest.
no subject
It figures that a man who took a sword thrust in his stride won't flinch from a lovebite or two.
The caressing hands on his back and chest just feel - wonderful.
Gil increases the power of his movements - he's stronger than his small framed body suggests - rocking both Michael and himself.
no subject
He keeps with the patterns on Gil's chest, but curls the fingers of the hand on Gil's back to scratch lightly over the skin there, digging in just a little with the increased rocking motion. Michael sifts his fingers into Gil's hair, tugs just a bit and hisses, "Yes," against his ear.
no subject
"Better?" he asks, then leans back down to bite again.
no subject
"Oh yes," it's another hissed phrase, whether in answer to Gil's question or just an expression of pleasure, may be hard to determine. "God, yes." And he reaches down to press his fingertips into the muscles along Gil's back, rubbing down and back up.
no subject
Sweat breaks out on his shoulders and top lip - not from the effort but from sheer pleasure.
"Soon, yeah?" he pants. "Oh gods, Michael - soon."
no subject
He can feel himself getting closer. And he hears Gil say 'soon'. He nods, his hand tugging at Gil's hair again. "Yes. Soon." His other hand moves to grip the blanket in a fist.
no subject
Gil cries out, buried deep, and stops moving apart from the delicate shuddering that runs through him.
When he can breathe again his first breath is "Michael."
no subject
Michael brushes a hand over Gil's hair, feeling Gil's head rising and falling with his own breathing. He swallows hard and finds his voice. "Fuck, that was amazing." He rocks his head back a forth a couple times. "It has been far too long," he sighs contentedly and moves his other hand to trace invisible lines along Gil's back and arm.
no subject
To be held like this is a luxury he adores - normally johns barely give him time to draw breath before shoving him out through the door. In fact - he sighs - nobody has cuddled him since the Tutu came and put an end to his 'arrangement' with Bartleby.
With a contented purr he nuzzles into Michael's neck. "Oh it was, amazing," he whispers, eyes closing.
no subject
He leans down and presses a kiss to Gil's forehead, at the same time, curling his arms around the man; the man who had done things, just now, simply to please him. In exchange for payment, probably, but still, the man would have done nearly anything he'd asked. Shit.
He whispers, "You can stay as long as you'd like." And he means it. He's not offering out of pity; he likes being warm; having someone nearby.
no subject
"Thank you," he says. "Just for a little while," and pulls the blankets around them as far as he can without moving. He rests his head on michaels' chest, listening to the strong and steady beat of his heart and relaxes, completely, for the first time for - oh, ages.
"thank you" he whispers again as his eyes close.
no subject