burstmodes | ( ic contact ) / duplicity

( ic contact ) / duplicity

text & pics | audio | video | action

[ kissing him is a thousand conflicting emotions all at once, but he's decided he isn't going to stop. he isn't going to let his brain dictate what it thinks he wants, letting his body fall to instinct and what experience he does have. that ezio is guiding them makes it a little easier, less of a chance prompto will fall and die of embarrassment, and when his ass bumps against the edge of the table, there is a bit of finesse in him, using a hand to lift himself up onto it so he's sitting. it's better levarage for a lot of things, but mostly? they can keep kissing.

he bites at ezio's bottom lip, teasing at the spot with his tongue before using it to kiss him deeper. an eagerness reflects in it that prompto can't hide, glad for the dim lighting and equally glad that he's sitting. a moment passes, and he hooks one of his legs around him, curling it against his hip to bring him closer. just enough to feel him, and it's – a lot. this is all a lot, but he tries to keep going, sucking in a breath that falls out on a soft moan when there's finally some friction between his legs. the material of his yoga pants is thin and hide nothing; so there's no denying that this is really working for him. ]

What now? [ it's a hot whisper against his mouth. ] Is this the way you want me?

[This is wrong. This is so wrong for so many reasons. And the portion of his brain - the single tiny, tiny brain cell that has managed to escape the cloud of lust and want currently falling over him - realizes all of them. Prompto is Noctis' best friend and that connection alone should have been enough to make him back away.

But his body wasn't listening, more than intent on doing whatever it pleased. And right now that was slipping between the open space created by Prompto's legs, pressing in with hips and chest, hands going to each thigh and hitching them high about his waist.

Pale skin called out to him like a beacon, inches of smooth flesh marred only by the splattering of dark freckles. How far they reach? Could he begin at his throat and follow them down, pausing only to worship the arching hardness he felt straining against him?

Lips brushed along the line of jaw, painting the beginning and soft trail downwards, pausing in his quest only to whisper against the shell of Prompto's ear.] I want you to watch as I show you just how many other uses there are for my mouth.

[ he's not going to survive this. he doesn't know why or how any of this started, despite the evidence of it burning a hole in his phone, and if he could think, prompto might have tried to push away from this. make some excuse and trip his way out of ezio's apartment before running away. that would show him what kind of person he was when it came to things like this, but... the warm press of his hands and the way he so easily handles him is just too much.

prompto practically melts like butter. then, his heart is in his throat at that whisper. ]

Are you – [ there's a low sound in the back of his throat, trying to find something to say that isn't ridiculously lame. ] Ah, you really gonna blow me right here?

[ stupid thing to say? check. yet, prompto doesn't pause, squeezing his legs around ezio's waist and looping an arm around his neck to haul himself closer. he's trying to memorize each and every detail so he can look back on this at some other time after they never do this or talk again. just something nice to have on a rainy day. and he tilts his head, nuzzling against the spot between ezio's jaw and neck before letting his teeth scrape at his earlobe. his hand, too, wanders down between them, intent on getting his fingers under those loose pants to feel him. ]

[When you look at the accumulated list of places he has had sex just during his time in the city alone, sucking cock in the middle of his dining room wouldn't even make the top ten of the strangest. Top twenty maybe. Possibly.]

Yes. [That single word is practically breathed to life, low and soft, as those teeth scrape over his sensitive flesh, head unconsciously canting to the side in silent encouragement for Prompto to keep going. To dig them so harshly they bruise, with so much force that they break the skin and scar over (just like the short, silvery lines that currently adorn his neck, a perfect imprint of a set of teeth.)

The pants are slung low upon his hips, tied loose by the drawstring, and they shift easily, making room for that hand to slip downwards to find him hard and ready. Just like he has been since Prompto had sent him that very first picture.

Fingers slide into blond spikes and tug gently, tilting his head forward to press warm lips over heated skin, attaching and sucking until it takes on a deep reddish hue that will transform into beautiful purples and blues come morning.]

[ he can't say any of this is a mixed signal when it's all laid out in front of him–the tilt of ezio's head, the roll of his hips. prompto isn't exactly what one would call experienced; he can count the number of times he's done things with other people on both hands. but, at the very least, he's enthusiastic about it and not as shy as he'd been once when he'd shown up a blushing virgin in the city. so, he follows instinct and the heat that's beginning to well up inside him, the fabric of those thin yoga pants uncomfortable against him, and when ezio practically asks to be bitten, he obliges. slowly.

prompto sinks his teeth in at the spot between neck and shoulder, a soft thing that increases with pressure as his fingers coax between them to get into those pants. when he feels how hard he is, he loses his breath, and... this is, strangely, one of the hottest things he's ever done to someone else. or maybe erotic is the right word. a random hookup where they fuck in the kitchen before disappearing back to their lives like ghosts. he pants out a sound, trying to say something, but then, ezio sucks a bruise into his skin and he whines.

it's an embarrassingly loud sound, smearing his lips over hot skin as he tucks his face against his shoulder, and he's already shivering from the anticipation of more. does he say anything? does he do something? if they keep this up, he's going to come, and then what? that would honestly be the end of him. ] Please. [ yet, he seems to have no filter, and his hand squeezes at his cock, giving it a slow stroke. ] Keep going...

[ before he explodes and most certainly not in a good way. ]

[Most of the encounters Ezio participated in were of a particular nature, a one time only sort of affair that was over and done with before the sun had risen to shine light upon their sins. A constant state of two people rushing through this most intimate of acts only to disappear like strangers in the night, to never become a permanent memory in each other's minds.

It was the ones who were still there when morning broke and the world came alive who were the trouble. A mere handful of people who had ever gotten close to in any capacity, who's names and faces he could still so easily recall, could still bring forth inside of his mind like it had happened yesterday.

Maybe that was why this was currently happening between them, why Prompto was currently perched on the edge of that heavy oak table before him, whining softly and practically begging for whatever Ezio was about to give him. Not because they had spoken or seen one another since that first slip up, but because he could still relive those visions without even having to pull up the evidence that still resided in his phone.

It was also possibly (probably) the reason why neither of them should ever speak of whatever this was again.

Prompto listens so well to the silent signals of his body, those teeth sinking into tender flesh and making his heart skip a beat inside his chest. Makes the air that had become trapped within his throat to release on a low, breathy sound, all pleasure. Those fingers are wrapped around him and each slow stroke is like the sweetest torture he has ever known.

Nails dig lightly into sides, against hips and downwards, little sharp bites of pain to contrast the pleasure of his mouth, to counter the way his tongue and teeth are sliding across a pale, freckled shoulder. A provided distraction as one of those hands slip beneath the waistband of light pants, both surprised and utterly pleased to find nothing underneath, to find nothing standing in the way of wrapping his palm around the base of the hardness he finds and stroking.]

[ he's trying not to think about. any thinking that he does is going to be done later, alone and full of something that might border on regret. possibly fear tinged heavily with arousal. of course, he seems to be falling into habits like this without being consciously aware of it, and he wonders if more will come of this after it's over. or maybe ezio will just forget about it, and prompto can continue on with his life as if nothing is happening between them. maybe ezio won't ever think to talk to him again. maybe he's just hoping for too much the way that he always seems to do.

his feelings are mixed when that particular thought flits through his mind, but he doesn't dwell on it. not with the biting, the throaty groan from ezio that rings in his head and causes his heart to beat faster. the first touch to his cock causes him to jerk, fingers stuttering in their rhythm around him, and then, as the pressure increases, he squirms, wiggles, writhes. his breath comes much faster now, panting against the curve of ezio's shoulder and – damn. this isn't good. this isn't good at all. he's so turned on that it's almost painful. ]

Ah, f–fuck... [ he doesn't know if he wants to squeeze his thighs around him or just fall back on the table and thrust up into ezio's hand. ] If you, mmm, if you keep doing that – [ he can't quite catch his breath, trying to go back to stroking him in time with the way he's being touched, but prompto had never been particularly good at hyperfocusing on anything. his concentration is all over the place. ] Keep doing that, and I'm gonna come.

[ embarrassingly fast. too quick for this one single encounter that some part of him wants to hold onto and cherish in a way. and more than that, prompto's just loud. he pants and moans and presses his forehead hard against ezio's shoulder, his free hand digging into the curve of his arm like it'll keep him from doing just as he says and ending this before it's even started. ]

[Would it be for the best if that was how this all ended? With them both getting what they seemingly wanted and then never bothering to speak to one another again? Wouldn't it be easier to forget without the sight of the other's constantly returning to serve as a reminder? To never hear that voice again, knowing that his mind would always recall the way it sounded when it deepened when words turned to moans and whines and pants.

Maybe. Possibly. Definitely.

Yet some part of him wants to hold on to this, wants to hold on to Prompto like some sweet hidden secret that only the two of them will ever be aware of. Wants everything to appear normal and usual on the surface, but dig any deeper and the darkness would reveal it's self.

But it gets pushed aside, trampled down back into the portion of his brain that's currently completely shut down and incapable of performing rational thought. Feelings could only ever complicate everything, and this was already far from simple.

The sound that falls from his lips is a deep chuckle that carries little amusement, full of prideful acknowledgement that he truly was that talented when it came to playing a body like it was nothing more than a well-learned instrument. Perhaps he should relent, move away and allow Prompto time to cool down, to catch his breath and keep what he's warning against from happening.

But he doesn't.

Lips press against skin one final time before he shifts away, just enough to put enough space between them for him to lower himself onto his knees, hands placed on eac thigh to spread them wide. One minute they're there, squeezing softly and teasing and the next they're slipping beneath that waistband and tugging downwards eagerly, teeth sinking into the expanse of his bottom lip as his goal finally sprung free.

Little more than a glance passes in way of warning, eyes darkened with fire and lust before his head dips forward, tongue lapping over the thick head, dipping into the slit and tasing the salty precum that had gathered there.]

[ every time something else happens, he rethinks his position on life and how terrible this is. it's honestly the worst because he already feels like he's falling down some sort of hole that he'll never be able to come back from. that he's attracted to ezio should speak volumes, and the irony of it is? they hadn't actually met in person before this. it had always been texts or pictures or anything else, but now... he doesn't know. he has no real idea, and he's afraid to ask.

so, he just swallows it down and pants out another sharp sound when he draws away.

being free of his pants earns ezio another breathy gasp, and prompto slaps a hand down on the table to brace himself when he watches the other man lower himself to the ground between his legs. he's shaking when their eyes meet. he's shaking when he leans close and he can feel his breath on his skin. he's shaking when the heat of ezio's mouth slides over him, and there's nothing he can really do except enjoy it.

the breath is nearly punched out of him, and he curls his fingers in an effort to center himself, trying to think of anything other than the man going down on him. but it's a poor attempt, his other hand reaching out to rest it against his hair before sliding between the strands and gripping almost too tight. prompto's given up on composure and whatever shame is still circulating through him, shifting his hips forward as he gently urges him down to take what he wants. it'll be a thing to remember when he comes in the next three minutes, but he's given up on caring about that too. the most he does is mumble ezio's name under his breath, encouraging him with every noise that slips from him. ]

[Sometimes there are no answers, even to the questions we want to ask the most. What was the answer to what this made them, to what they were going to become? They could continue to lie to themselves and say that it made them nothing, that they were just friends - friends who sometimes texted each other things they shouldn't in the middle of the night. But it had gone beyond that now and that label brought along other implications that neither of them - correction, that Ezio wasn't ready to face. Friends who occasionally sexted and sometimes got together to have sex.

Better not to dwell on it. Better not to give it any thought. How else can this backfire horribly later?

Those fingers curl gloriously tight into his hair and it's almost cat-like the way he chases after it, angling his head so the aching bites of pain become even greater, more intense. A set of his own wrap around the neglected base of Prompto's cock, squeezing lightly before stroking, slow and tight. Taking the head into his mouth and applying the tiniest bit of suction, tongue working across the thick vein that lay beneath.

Before switching it up, shifting to lift himself higher onto his knees to adjust the angle at which he works, head bobbing downwards and back, taking in as much as he could before it hit the back of his throat and retreating. It didn't matter if Prompto came within the next three minutes. It didn't matter if he came within the next thirty seconds. His pride would swell exponentially no matter what, just knowing that he had been the one to draw him over that edge so easily.]

[ there are only two things that should be known about prompto, and they are this: he is loud and he is very eager to please. he puts everyone else before himself almost always, ignoring his own discomfort or stress because, in the end, nothing else matters but those things. it's something that barrels itself to the forefront of his thoughts just before ezio causes him to see stars, the sharpness of it nearly overpowering the hot sensation of his mouth and the wonderful pull of his fingers. maybe that's why he bites down on his lip to muffle whatever sound he pulls from his throat, gasping for breath and pushing so hard against the other man's scalp that he's sure he's hurting him. it's a tinge of guilt bleeding into the pleasure, and he doesn't know what to do with it. he doesn't know what to do with any of this except hold on and hope that he doesn't look as amateur as he feels. ]

A–ah, I'm so — [ doomed. completely and utterly because it's so hot, and he does the stupidest thing right in the middle of it, glancing down to catch a glimpse of the way his cock slides and disappears into ezio's mouth. ] I'm gonna ...

[ the words catch in his throat, and he doesn't know if he's dying or just suffering from some weird kind of seizure when he comes. it's probably not even three minutes, a quick inhale that nearly suffocates him because he can't catch his breath, and it's like he's never even done this before or ever had oral. which is embarrassing, and he'll think about it when he can even speak again. but his entire body reacts, thighs clenching and hands pushing against the shape of ezio's skull to hold him there in a silent plea not to move, not to stop, not to look at him.

his entire body is flushed, sweat beading down the back of his neck, and when it's over, he sags onto the table, wondering if he's just going to melt into the floor and live there forever. in fact, he can't even find anything to say, especially after hitting his orgasm literally a minute after they'd started. but maybe it's fine. maybe it's okay. he'd just need a few minutes and then – well, he'd be sure to return the favor somehow. ]

[It should be illegal to feel as prideful as he does right now. To have your ego expand this much in such a short span of time, to have it boasted so beautifully and eagerly should surely be a crime. There were so many things that Ezio was good at, so many activities that he could perform with practiced ease. Being particularly pleasing in bed was of them - especially when it came to using his mouth.

The fact that it takes less than those three minutes and it was his mouth that caused it did unreal things to his confidence, sending it soaring directly into cockiness.

Those fingers wrapped so tightly into his hair it felt as though it would give way under the force did something unreal to his body. Had him leaning away from the pull, had him sighing in pleasure as the pain turned into a dull, pleasant ache that would linger in the morning. Prompto's voice barely breaks through the fog formed by deep concentration, the only words of warning to ease of or take him in deeper.

It hits the back of his throat and he swallows it down, thick, pulsating spurts hitting the back of his throat and sliding down with surprising ease. Everything else falls out of focus - the movements of his tongue, the thrusting of his hand - his entire being going into not looking like some virgin who's never been on their knees before and choking.

And then silently thanking whatever god is watching out for him because he doesn't. Somehow he manages to look just the right mixture of debauched and pleased with himself when he finally glances upwards, watching Prompto with a mixture of eagerness and dazed pleasure, releasing him with a loud sort of pop.]

[ this whole thing is lewd. maybe it's the only thought he has in his head right now, struggling to focus on what else he needs to do because he's pretty sure ezio just sucked his brain out through his dick, and it takes a few seconds longer that he'd like to realize he's looking up at him, that he's watching his own cock slide from the other man's mouth. there's a shudder, the fast race of his heart echoing the rhythm of his breathing as he eases his hands away and grips the edge of the table for stability. if he tried to move much more than that, he's sure his legs wouldn't work, and beyond that, there's a million different things fighting for dominance inside him. what to do, what to say. should he even do or say anything?

it's kind of a moot thing when his body's doing it on its own, reaching out to touch ezio's face and thumbing along his jaw to the corner of his mouth. stuff like this doesn't happen to people like him, but it is. right? it's not a dream? he hadn't fallen asleep after sending him a handful of dirty pictures and texts? prompto worries at the thought, eventually trying to coax ezio back onto his feet so he can wrap himself around him and kiss him regardless of the taste of himself there. the idea of speaking is very daunting right now, but... ]

Lemme take care of you too. Please –

[ he knows he sounds kind of pathetic like this, but he doesn't want to quite let go of this fantasy right now. and anyway, he'd feel like a jerk if he just left after something like that. (how people do that stuff, he doesn't know.) still, prompto's hands are running over ezio's shoulders and sliding over the front of his chest, further down so he can try to reach between his legs and at least offer a little friction. ]

[Easily. You walked away and you never looked back. Looking back was what trapped you, kept you there inside of that moment. Made things awkward when they didn't need to be. Ezio couldn't even count how many times he had walked away without uttering so much as a thank you. It didn't matter anyway, did it? It wasn't like he knew their names.

Metaphorically, the moment in which Ezio could have walked away from this encounter was the brief amount of time between the other's cock leaving his mouth and that those fingers caressing his face. Figuratively, it was then that he looked back (looked up) and he was stuck. In the blink of an eye it was over and he was sinking.

Sinking and leaning into that touch, lips parting to take the tip of Prompto's thumb between them, to graze over it with his teeth before releasing. Giving into the gentle coaxing, shifting his weight and rising to his feet. Placing one hand on either side of the other's body, boxing him in against the table as they kissed.

Prompto is speaking and it's difficult to get two brain cells to actually work together to comprehend what he's actually saying. Especially when his hands are on him, trailing heat over his skin and reaching for the hardness between his legs, providing glorious friction that has him rocking into the touch.]

How would you like me?

[ that's a loaded question if he's ever heard one. what should he say? it's like he's always stuck in that cycle of being too afraid to speak up, but time in duplicity has taught him that he can't waste the opportunity. he's pretty sure this is never going to happen again, and even if it does... what are the chances it's going to be just like this? he pants against ezio's mouth, humming out a soft approval when he gets his hand around him through fabric and gives a purposeful squeeze. ]

I, ah, I was thinking... [ which is so hard right now. he can barely get his mouth to work. ] W–well, you know, in me. But not sure you've got anything for that in the kitchen.

[ why were they in the kitchen again? prompto's having a tough time recalling that particular reason right now, but it doesn't keep him from trying to slide a little closer, trailing his mouth down along ezio's shoulder and pressing his teeth to his skin. it's not quite a bite, just the illusion of one before he sucks at the spot a bit harder than he normally would. he's beginning to understand that he kind of likes it rougher; at least a touch more than prompto's ever been used to with the few people he's been with.

it's kind of exciting, but he's also worried it's not going to be enough. he might not be enough. still, he's going to try, and he uses his other hand to pull at those thin pants, determined to get them over ezio's thighs so he can look down and – whoa, yeah. he has to be doing something sort of right if he's that hard. prompto teases his thumb against the tip, breathing the words out against the underside of ezio's jaw before he can even stop himself. ]

You're really hot. [ it's the stupidest thing to say at the wrong time, but oh well. there it is. ]

[It's too much.

It's too much. It's too close. Too intimate.

And yet all Ezio can imagine in that moment is Prompto spread out over his bed, all pale, freckles skin marked with swirling red and purple bruises. All beautiful blue eyes staring up at him as he moved, all blond, sunny hair fanned out across his pillow.

It's too much but he wants it. His entire body aches with how much he wants it. With how much he wants Prompto.

Thumb brushes over the tip of his cock and it hardens impossibly more. Breath catches within his throat at that nuzzle, and he's entirely ready to slip away, to lead Prompto to his room and do exactly as he wanted.

Until those words reach his ears and he pulls away, just enough to cup the others jaw in return, the smirk that crosses his feature entirely ego filled.]

And you're about to fuck me. [It's a distraction, a chance to pull away. To step out of the tangle of his pants, to take a step backward and gesture for Prompto to follow.]

[ the flush that sweeps over him at those words is almost extreme. it's a different sort of thing in comparison to the heat of arousal, swallowing around whatever nerves trying to creep up amidst all the desire so he can slowly slip off the table and shake off his pants onto the floor. the most embarrassing thing is going to be collecting his clothes when he leaves, but that's much later in the future. right now, it's about following ezio and trying to memorize everything about this moment because he's certain there will be no repeat of it.

would he allow himself that? he isn't quite sure, but he does make an effort to keep up.

eventually, he decides to overtake him, just enough so he can get an arm around his shoulders and haul himself close for another kiss. he doesn't want to be passive in this, not after what just happened on the kitchen table, and he bites at ezio's lower lip a little harder than he intends, sucking at it in an attempt to soothe. maybe he means it as a distraction, but there's no harm in prolonging this. right? there's a low-thrumming excitement to all of this, wrapped in the shadows and pressed to ezio so intimately that he can feel every part of him. what'll it be like when they — ]

Guess that makes me pretty lucky, huh? [ it's an absent mumble against his mouth, nipping at his lip once more before drawing away so he can give ezio a bit of a chase through his own place. he doesn't actually know where he's going, but how hard could it be to find his room? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( ic contact ) / duplicity

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject