by Kara Greenan
He looks at London's position thoughtfully. "Can't rim you like that."
London snorts. "Oh please. You'd find a way to rim me in outer space with zero gravity."
Sebastian doesn't object. There are few things he loves more than eating London out, and almost all of it is because of the way he reacts.
He trails a finger up London's chest. "What do you want?"
London sighs and closes his eyes. "You're good at making people believe stuff, right? I mean that's basically your job." London leans his head back, exposing his neck. A deep-purple bruise would look lovely there.
"Sure."
London's eyes open slowly, like a sunrise, brilliantly blue and full of – hurt? Sadness? No, no, no, he doesn’t want that expression on London’s face.
London takes a deep breath, his voice a mere whisper. "Then make me believe you won't leave me for one of the marks." He closes his eyes again, like it pains him to continue. "It drives me insane when I think about you flirting with them. I spent the last four hours pacing the house and watching Hale's video feed of the club."
Sebastian wants to laugh, because London is jealous? It's an utterly ridiculous notion. No one comes close, no one compares to him. However, he knows London enough to understand the importance of not laughing right now. London is shockingly blunt with his needs, a very refreshing way to handle a relationship, Sebastian thinks. But other things, things he perceives as his own shortcomings, he keeps inside, letting them eat away at his self-esteem; letting them fester.
Sebastian leans in for a sweet kiss instead, pecking London's nose and cheekbones and still-closed eyes.
"Look at me, please." It takes a moment, but London does. Defiance covers the hurt and confusion now. It's an emotion Sebastian is more familiar with when dealing with London. Defiance, he can handle.
"I love you."
London makes a sort of harrumphing sound.
Sebastian nuzzles his cheek. "I do," he promises while getting on the bed, lips dragging down London's torso.
His cock lies half hard in the crease between leg and hip, pretty as all the rest of him. Sebastian pulls the foreskin back to kiss the exposed head and suckle it into his mouth. He revels at the familiar taste, at the way it twitches involuntarily. He blinks up at London, still mouthing at his cock and not caring about the strain this position puts on his neck. The stare is intense, intimidating in the very best way, neither feeling the urge to break it. There's heat in London's gaze, unbridled and honest, before he blinks, letting an almost bored expression wash over his face.
And fuck if it isn't the hottest thing ever.
If Sebastian didn't feel him harden fully under his ministrations, he'd think London was unaffected by all this. And okay, he can definitely do this. If London wants him to work for it, Sebastian will.
He sits up, deciding to test the waters. "I should dim the lights, maybe get some candles out?"
London's nod is slow and controlled, like he's mulling it over. "If that's what you want to do."
His façade is practically perfect, all cool aloofness and there's something wrong with Sebastian because his cock is fully hard and leaking in seconds. The fact that he knows London to be the most caring, loving person is irrelevant right now. Because that expression of arrogance goes particularly well with the cut of his cheekbones, with his icy-blue stare – and shit, Sebastian wants to come on his face, wants to paint those perfect planes.
Maybe later, he consoles himself, while clumsily getting off the bed and dimming the lights. The distance helps and he takes his time setting candles out and lighting them. London's eyes track his every movement, a mockingly raised eyebrow sending another shiver up Sebastian's spine. He catches London in the mirror though, watches his eyes drop to his arse when he thinks Sebastian can't see.
Soft music fills the room over the built-in speakers and he keeps his back turned, hips swaying gently while selecting the right playlist.
London watches him like a hawk, eyes skimming up and down his body, boring into the back of his head. And Sebastian preens under the attention, realising it's the only reason he's dragging this out. He can't help it, enjoys London looking at him with that fierce want. He needs it.
Mood set, he saunters over to the foot of the bed. London is a vision, staring defiantly from the vulnerable position he’s put himself in. Sebastian understands the sacrifice London is making, the gift he's offering Sebastian. London has exactly two ways of dealing with his problems, fight or flight. The fact that he's willingly restraining himself, taking away both those options, speaks volumes.
Eyes never leaving London's, he crawls up slowly, trailing kisses up London's body until they're face to face.
London probably expects a kiss, so Sebastian veers right and rummages in the nightstand instead. His fingers close around the bottle of lube and he brings it out triumphantly. Only then does he straddle London's thighs and lean in for that kiss.
"What do you want?" he whispers against the softness of London's lips.
"I've already told you."
Sebastian's bottom lip pushes out in an exaggerated pout. Then he shrugs. If London won't tell him what he wants, then he'll just have to use the reliable method of trial and error.
They both enjoy talking during sex, so he starts there, pitching his voice low just the way London likes it best.
"When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about is you." He settles back on London's legs and pops the bottle cap. "I wonder if you slept well, if your dreams were okay. I want to tell you about mine, because you weren't there for them, and I want to share everything with you," he kisses London's neck. "I want you to know everything there is to know about me."
London's skin feels heated under his lips, as he drags them over his sharp collarbones and pointy shoulders. He play-bites the fleshy part of London's upper arm, assuring himself with a quick glance down at London's lap. He smears the pearl of precome over the head of London's cock, content with the muffled yelp. Back to holding London's gaze, he slowly drags his thumb over his tongue, licking off the residue.
London's eyes darken, transfixed, but he doesn't comment.
There's usually only two reasons why London is this quiet during sex. Either he's got Sebastian's cock in his mouth, or he's whimpering too hard for actual words.
Not today, it seems, but that's okay. Sebastian loves a challenge.
"I can't stand being home but not in the same room as you." He pours lube onto his fingers and spreads it around with his thumb. His eyes flick back up to London's. "I want to touch you, hear you, watch you. God, I always want to watch you. You're amazing, soft and rough, loud and quiet, always perfect. Can't ever figure you out, but never grow bored of trying."
Without warning, he gives London some rough strokes with his lubed-up hand, cock pretty and shiny when he's done. London's mouth has fallen open on a silent gasp, a gorgeous blush high on his cheeks. No one looking into London's eyes could mistake the emotion there: lust, pure and simple. But his body is calm, shoulders hanging low. There's no strain on the handcuffs, and Sebastian can't have that.
So he reaches behind himself, eyes searching for London's as the tip of his finger explores his own rim. "I – ah." His hips jerk when one finger slides inside, eyelids heavy at the slow drag.
He forgets everything around him then, focused only on the gentle stretch and the searing heat of London's gaze.
"Always so good, the sex we're having," he pants eventually. His forehead connects with London's collarbone when he pushes in a second finger, too fast, but the slight burn still ratchets up his arousal. He pants wetly against London's skin, twists his fingers and whimpers.
"Want to always touch you, always." Sebastian looks, but the handcuffs still hang slack.
"London," he whines, frustration creeping into his voice. "Tell me what you want. Please."
London shifts, just enough to whisper directly into Sebastian's ear. "Make me believe."
Sebastian almost
cries, because his fingers in his arse are a slow, unfulfilling torture and because he doesn't understand. "I – I don't know how," he admits.
London smiles at him, all soft and warm and with so, so much love. "You do, I know you do."
Strangely empowered by that, Sebastian decides to just go with his gut feeling. He shifts at another burn. "'M up to three now," he mumbles. "Maybe I should turn around, so you can see?"
"Fuck."
Emboldened by London's response, Sebastian picks up his pace, chest slipping against London's. "Want me to turn around? Watch me all spread out for you, get myself ready for your gorgeous cock?"
Another thick blob of precome bubbles from London's slit. Sebastian’s control slips and he gets restless, antsy. He wants London so desperately, wants London's cock, needs the stretch, the burn, and the knowledge that it's London.
"I would, you know," he chokes out, twisting his fingers, spreading them. God, he needs London's hands on him, needs their heat, their dexterity. He kisses London, clumsy and uncoordinated, more panting into his mouth than anything. "I'd do anything for you."
London's gaze is like a trail of fire on his skin. He arches into it, clenches around his fingers before pulling them out. Without any further preamble, he shifts, reaches behind himself to line London up. The wide head pushes against his rim and he moans, sinks down into the stretch, London's grunt spurring him on. Slack-jawed until he's all the way seated, he eventually starts babbling. "So good, so good, so good, want you always, always. Feel so good inside me, fuck."
London isn't any less affected but he still holds himself back, like he's waiting for something.
"You've got to tell me," Sebastian whines, rising up and sinking back down, sweat slipping down his temple while his eyes close at the perfect drag of London's cock. "Tell me what you want."
London stares at him, hectic flush spreading as far as his tiny nipples. Sebastian spreads one hand on London's chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat there. He doesn't understand why London isn't giving in, why he's holding himself back, why he's holding Sebastian back. Sebastian will be damned if he just gets himself off without giving London what he wants.
He winds his arms around London's neck, shifts his knees so he's in a better position. Then he speeds up. The moment London's cock grazes his prostate; Sebastian lets out a desperate whimper. It's good - it's so, so good - but it isn't perfect.
"London," he sobs. "London, I want you to – make it right. I want... I need –"
And god, that's it, isn't it? He can make it good all on his own, can make his own cock bounce against his tight stomach muscles, angry red and leaking heavily. He can make himself come like this, sure, it's easy, a single stroke would do the trick. But he doesn't want that. He wants London. No, needs him.
"I need —" you to take part in this, tell me what you want, make me come.
He sobs again, feeling actual tears well in the corners of his eyes at his desperation, at the impossibility of scratching that itch on his own.
"Please," he chokes out, head falling onto London's shoulder, his hips in a frantic, unsatisfying rhythm.
"I need you."
The moment the words leave his lips, the dam breaks. Sebastian cries at the frustration of an orgasm so close at hand yet unbearably out of reach, some of his tears falling onto London's skin.
And then they're choked off in a surprised gasp when his back hits the mattress. London is on top of him, handcuffs dangling open from the bed frame. "How –"
Sebastian forgets to breathe, staring into London's burning gaze. He does need him, needs him like breathing, he'd still be drifting if not for London. The realisation isn't new, not really. But he's never understood it with such clarity.
London reaches down to steady his cock and slide back in. Sebastian arches, London moving at the sort of pace and angle he hadn't managed on his own. He spreads his thighs wider, rakes his nails down London's skin.
"You could go anywhere," London says. "Be anyone."
Sebastian shakes his head fiercely, like the mere idea is somehow wrong, has no place there. He could, of course he could. He's proven that over and over again. But he'd be nothing without London, washed out like a painting exposed to too much sunlight. Somehow, his own happiness has been irrevocably entwined with London and he feels selfish when he clutches London close. "No," he rasps. "I need you."
He chokes on the words, on the truth, and then slurs it out regardless. "Can't be me, the real me, without you."
London hefts Sebastian's dead-weight legs higher on his arms, lifting his hips and almost folding him in half. Their lips connect in a messy kiss, too much teeth, followed by a sharp sting to Sebastian's lip. Sebastian just opens his mouth, lets London's tongue push in while his knees bump against his chest. There's a freedom to giving up control like this, to letting every muscle go lax and just enjoying London's body move above him, sucking on his bruised bottom lip. London's thrusts are rhythmic and deep; they’ll stay like this until he's ready to come. Then he'll speed up, erratic for just a bit.
"Need you, too," he hears London murmur, faint beneath desperate pants. He hitches one knee onto his shoulder, drives in deeper, perfect. "Need you to need me."
Sebastian groans, back bowing as he clenches down around London's cock, still feels its slick slide as his orgasm takes him by surprise. He shouts, cock pulsing untouched and spurting between them, drops landing on his heaving chest.
Boneless and pliant, he sinks into the mattress. He’s reeling, his fingers twitching like he’s exposed to a low current. His mind on the other hand is taffy-slow, sticking to one thought and holding on to it. Breathing is difficult but he can’t think of that, because London is still above him, in him, he hasn’t missed a single stroke. He demands all of Sebastian’s attention, scattered as it is right now. He’s beautiful in his intensity, in the way he watches Sebastian throughout, bites his lip each time his gaze drops to Sebastian's mouth.
London's eyes fall shut, eyelashes resting on his cheeks for a moment. Then his eyes flash open and London shifts, drags two fingers over Sebastian's chest. His hips slow but never stop. He fucks Sebastian shallowly, and as the orgasm wears off it’s too much, too intense, not enough.
"Open," London says while pushing in all the way. He whimpers in sensitivity, a full-body shiver spreading to the very tips of his toes.
Sebastian eagerly closes his mouth around the proffered fingers, sucking his own come off with a desperate greed he can't quite understand right now, too busied with sensation, still unsure if it’s too much or not enough.
London watches avidly as he pulls his fingers out, slow drag of Sebastian's lips over knuckles apparently endlessly fascinating. And then he's fucking Sebastian with both cock and fingers, his body sliding along Sebastian's skin in such a way that makes him want to purr.
London is panting, laboured breaths as he fixedly watches Sebastian's lips mould around his fingers.
"Fucking indecent mouth," he says as he pulls free and grabs onto Sebastian’s shoulders with both hands, covers Sebastian's mouth with his own in another bruising kiss.
Sebastian's leg begins to cramp and he tells London as much. London's expression becomes serious as he pushes himself upright, slips out rather too abruptly. Sebastian is about to protest, but London rolls him onto his belly, heated skin hitting a cool patch of linen. He rubs his face in the lavender scented sheet while London straddles his thighs, holding him open with one hand before pushing back inside.
Sebastian grunts at the slight twinge, the feeling all but forgotten when London leans forward, sparse chest hair rubbing along his back deliciously.
"Want me to stop?" The question is paired with sharp little teeth sinking into the side of his neck, like London is holding him in place while he fucks him raw.
"No," Sebastian manages finally, past the little sounds spilling from him, just in case London decides to stop. "Never."
He extends his arm, feels the sweat that's accumulated in the cre
ase of his elbow cool as he reaches behind to pull London in all the way. His sensitive dick rubs against the bed sheets, causing Sebastian to flinch back, into London, groaning instead at the overstimulation.
It's – well, it's intense. Too much in many ways, none of them important. He knows London would stop the very second he said something. This knowledge is possibly the reason for why they do push like this during sex, reach for something new and untried. But a little pain during sex has never hurt him, so to speak. Instead of stopping, Sebastian lifts his bum to give his cock a bit of respite.
If he'd ask, London would pull out and wank off onto the new tattoo on his lower back, maybe turn him around and aim for his tongue instead. But he doesn't want that. And while he's still mostly whimpering, it's not all due to being sensitive.
"Don't like it when you flirt with the mark," London says in his ear, fingers digging into his hips roughly. "Don't like it when they look at you. Like you'd fuck them at the drop of a hat. Like you'd let them fuck you."
Sebastian buries his face in the sheet and groans, pushing back into London's thrusts but getting no real traction with his legs pushed together, bracketed by London's strong thighs. London's hand slips from his hip, finding its way to Sebastian's still sensitive cock. Small fingers clasp around him and squeeze. Sebastian shouts, tries to twitch away, not wanting London to stop, he doesn't know what he wants, and babbles incoherently instead.
London bites his shoulder, and whispers into his ear. "But you only spread your legs for me, don't you?"
Sebastian nods frantically, actually spreading them when London manoeuvres until Sebastian's legs are on the outside, thighs spread, arse lifted slightly and face still pressed into the sheets. Sebastian knows how he must look and he hopes London enjoys the view because he's not repositioning. He can fuck forward into London's tight grip like this, back against his cock. London shifts, angling every stroke just right. Sebastian sees stars. "You, only you," he mumbles without recalling making the decision to speak.
London lets go of his cock and grabs his hips with both hands instead. His thrusts are erratic now, nothing like the smooth, even rhythm from before. Sebastian issues a loud moan on a particularly rough stroke, he feels London pulse deep inside him, shuddering while he comes again.