[ It's a strange hunger - the sort he couldn't feel until it was sated.
Sir Godfrey had felt those warm and lonely pangs, certainly, in the solitary nights since his widowing. Something hollow at the pit of his chest which ached for companionship. Nights passed in lonely silence, when the cool of his sheets was felt just a little harder.
Of course he'd felt a certain longing in that dark quiet. He was only a man - only if he were any less would he feel nothing at all. He has remembered this as he allows it to pass through him, as he prays to the sunrise for His guidance. And pass it did - the fires would die if he only waited, perhaps with sparse help from his hand. That he struggles is human. That he feels the cold and empty space beside him is proof against that very loneliness - proof of his beating heart. It is a pain to be treasured.
But it is not one that follows him to the streets. This loneliness has always been a passing and brittle thing, one that dies before it wounds too deeply. So long as there's something else to be thought about, Sir Godfrey can stave it off a little while longer. He's tricked himself into believing that this is the same thing as resilience.
Now that he feels bare skin against his, needful hands and hot whispering words urging him forward, he knows what a lie he had fed himself. The hunger for this skinship had always been there. Godfrey had just kept it out of sight.
Now, gloriously satiated, Godfrey can look back and see only how starved he had been. He exhales as though he's been holding his breath for a year, a great and warm heaving of his broad chest. Godfrey's hand finds Gale's, and he pushes against his palm, soaking desperately in the contact as he shifts his body against his. Godfrey presses his lips into the heel of his palm, the inside of his wrist. Then, his lips, soft and warm, his tongue darting between them as he lets his hand wander down his chest. Down his stomach.
Thrills for the way he flutters beneath his hand. ]
[He had gone so long without mortal touch that Gale had almost convinced himself that it was something not to be missed, that he had somehow transcended such things because of his own worldly experience, but he cannot remember ever being so glad to be proven wrong, and a shuddering exhale passes his lips Godfrey's touch glides down his chest and over his abdomen, his pulse quickening once more, muscles just beneath the skin reacting and pulling pleasantly tight as his hand continues to wander downwards.
With urgency having been sated, there is nothing to do but to take their time and enjoy one another— and Gale has always prided himself on being thorough in all things, as dedicated a lover as he was a scholar.
He passes his thumb lightly over Godfrey's lips, his gaze dark and heated as he nods to encourage him further. Even so soon after release, he can feel himself beginning to stir again, a slower rouse now that the frantic edge has been blunted. The soft glow of the orb lights what little space remains between them as he lets his own fingers trace their way up the length of Godfrey's arm, the curves of muscle and flushed skin, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth as he guides his touch over the other man's chest and abdomen.]
Where shall we begin, hm? The possibilities are so many, I hardly know.
[ Godfrey knows that his can't be the first hands on Gale; surely more pairs have run over his skin than have Godfrey's. It strikes him as foolishness to think otherwise of a man who had lain with a God, that he would not have had his share of mortal trysts before.
And still, there is a newness to this, the way Gale's body receives his touch. The breath in his chest shivers and his muscles pull in response to the skating touch of his hands. A thawing, as though his hand were the spring over a long winter. It's at once relief and intoxicant. His hand finds his hip and his soft breath finds his lips, as Godfrey lowers himself to taste of their warmth. It splashes through him as his hand roves, his other driving into the pillows holding his weight, and he presses further into the warmth of skinship - for once, without a care for anything but the pursuit of it, for the pooling warmth in his hips.
His lips find the underside of his jaw next, and breathlessly, he responds-- ]
Slowly.
[ --before they press again into his fluttering and tender throat, his hand playing at his chest.
Then, lowering again, until his hand finds something firm. ]
[Gale echoes him fondly, an affectionate note in his voice as his breath hitches softly, Godfrey's lips against his jaw making his own pulse rise so that he can nearly taste it on his own tongue. The freedom to touch is almost overwhelming after so many weeks spent watching from afar, nights where he had discouraged himself from even considering such things, and Godfrey's hair is like silk between his fingers as he entangles them within it once more.
The press of lips against his throat spurs an approving sound at the very back of it, but it's cut off by another sharp hitch of breath as Godfrey's hand finds him hard and wanting, already eager to be touched even so soon after their shared release, and he lets out a shuddering exhale of breath as Godfrey's fingers curl against him, lowering his brow to rest atop the paladin's head.]
Please...
[However slowly, he only wants Godfrey to touch him, however he so pleases— just let it continue.]
[ He shivers against his throat, feeling him twitch against his hand as it finds him.
Godfrey sighs harshly and presses his lips against the stubbly underside of Gale's jaw. His fingers close take loose hold of the throbbing length beneath his fingers, drawing his warm handprint up to the firming head, and slowly back down.
A hot chill down the back of his neck, to feel warm breath and hard fingers in his hair again. Godfrey continues guiding the throbbing dick in his hand, ignoring the impatient twitch pulling between his own legs, and shifts to take the tender lobe of his ear between his teeth, sighing against its shell.
The warm swell in his chest might be replaced by a sinking stone of ice if he were to dwell for a moment on the impropriety, the boldness. And from there, likely, he would be dragged to further unfair depths, distorting what was currently underway. A betrayal of the love he once shared with his husband. The infinitesimal smallness that must be the shadow of him against the lost favour of a goddess. None of those things are more important than the warmth, the skinship, the shiver in Gale against his bare skin as he feels his cock respond to the slow and gentle attention of his hand. There was no room for such second-guessing, no time for reticence.
Beyond words, how close he is - that it takes only the barest shift, a slight turn, to meet Gale's lips with his own. Warmth thrills through him.
Then, breathless, he moves down. Lips to chest. Tongue to the tender glow.
[His breath catches, every touch and whisper of breath amplified; Godfrey's warmth fills the tent and Gale finds himself content to drown in it, to leave reason behind and give himself over entirely to relearning the joys of mortal flesh. A groan escapes him; he bows his head forward to rest his brow against Godfrey's shoulder as the larger man takes him in firm, steady strokes. That something so simple could be so absolutely dizzying is somehow wondrous to him, and it keeps him from even considering the potential complexities of all of this, his hips rolling forward every time Godfrey allows him even the slightest bit of give, chasing that slow build.
His fingers remain tangled in champagne hair as Godfrey begins to sink downwards, and suddenly Gale feels as though he has no breath at all, swallowing his voice completely for several moments as lips steadily trail their way down his throat, his chest, all the way to his abdomen, the anticipation of what's to come making him absolutely ache even as he remains in the paladin's grasp.
Gods above, it was hardly unusual to see Godfrey on his knees, and yet Gale had never allowed himself to even imagine this, even when he'd allowed himself to indulge in the occasional fantasy.]
[ There is something pure and intoxicating in his responsiveness, a newness. Each touch leaned into, a sigh for every kiss, hungry fingers pressing through his hair. Every moment urged further, pressed into. Anything to prolong the moment of warm contact a fraction longer.
What else would his body chase? What other touch would he prolong? The thought thrills through his spine and drives Godfrey forward; sighing hotly against his skin, feeling the tender and pebbly skin of his nipple beneath his lips and pressing in. Godfrey's broad hand flattens against his hardened dick and desperately pushes, moving with the whole of his body as his hips flex toward his warmth, the throb between his own legs for now unheeded.
By the time he reaches his hips, Godfrey's fingers are again finding his shaft, his body gently tangled in crushed pillows and his lovers' legs. He lifts his gaze to catch Gale's above him, studies his face in the hot half-second he has before the throb between his legs pushes him to move again; takes both thighs on his shoulders and, reverently, presses another kiss against the tender crook, the soft flesh between pelvis and inner thigh, sighing harshly. He had wanted this to last forever, naturally - to take his time exploring him.
This intention was set before the hot throb between his legs had begun to grow urgent.
He centers himself; both legs to a shoulder, his eyes lifting, seeking to touch Gale's own gaze as he rises slowly along his hard length, tongue first. His gaze lowers as he comes to its firm head, wraps his lips around it, and swallows it as far back as he can.
Until hot and shivering throat-muscles contract against its tip. ]
[The sight alone is breathtaking; Godfrey cradled between his knees, pillows crushed beneath them as he catches Gale's gaze once more, the wizard's own now dark and heavy with lust, with near-desperate wanting, cock twitching against Godfrey's thick fingers in a bid for more. He lets out a soft, plaintive sound that sticks at the back of his throat as a kiss is pressed against his innermost thigh, and already he feels his arms threatening to give way beneath him even as he aims to remain propped up to enjoy the view, feeling his pulse beat in his mouth.
What follows is so much more than he could have anticipated, having been so long without mortal touch. Anyone else would look positively sinful in such a position; Godfrey remains earnest, beatific, pulling a sigh from Gale as his tongue drags along his turgid length. Gale meets his gaze, his own all heat, and the very picture goes straight to his cock, another surge of wanting, the featherlight brush of lips against him almost too much to bear— and then he is lost, sheathed in wet heat, the close of Godfrey's lips drawing for a strangled sound that borders on a half-choked sob.
His head drops back and he fights the urge to buck into Godfrey's mouth, remaining as still as he can manage as he finds himself swallowed deep, white-knuckled grip clutching at the pillow jutting out from beneath him. The sound that escapes him is guttural and wordless, one he had never known himself able to make before now, and his fingers blindly tangle into Godfrey's hair as he struggles to ground himself.]
Gods, h-how—
[Any question, rhetorical or otherwise, is abandoned, lost to another moan that feels as though it has been coaxed forth from the very furthest depths.]
[ Wet, internal contours quiver against the firm head of his cock as Godfrey's voice buzzes around him. His head draws back up its length, lips over wet skin, pale gold hair falling before his eyes as Gale's fingers aimlessly shift through. He watches in thick silence each movement, every shift, his mouth draws from him. The raw wanting in him - the effort it takes to restrain it, to keep from pressing his hips to Godfrey's nose and the back of his throat to his cock, to push himself as far down his throat as he could reach.
Godfrey takes a hard breath through his nose and, wrapping his hands gently around its girth, lowers himself once again. He passes the tender underside of his hard dick over his tongue, leading him slowly back down his neck, his fingers following closely the trajectory of his mouth. His other hand braces softly against his hip as Godfrey finds something approaching a rhythm; his head bobs up and down in his lap, already heading down once the head of his cock nearly breaches his lips.
The thump of his heartbeat between his legs grows more and more incessant with each spit-slick pass of his hand over his shaft, with each gagging pull of the back of his throat around his hard dick as he swallows him back. ]
[It is positively sinful, the way Godfrey pulls him deeper into wet heat, the slide of his tongue soft as velvet; the squeeze of his throat wrings another obscene noise from Gale's own, tugging against his hair as he fights to keep himself still. The muscles of his abdomen are pulled taut at this angle, fluttering beneath Godfrey's efforts, the paladin's hand against his hip only just managing to keep him grounded as his tongue laves against the most sensitive part of him, muting the involuntary buck of his hips that particular attention causes.
It's almost too much; the steady rhythm Godfrey has struck, the way his hands never leave him untended for even a moment, following in the wake of debaucherous lips and tongue, the way Godfrey so eagerly swallows him back, the effort betrayed by the soft gagging that Gale feels vibrating against his cock, and oh, even that is so much better than he had expected. His thighs tremble, his breath coming short— gods, if they wanted this night to last, it was going to be a challenge, but there is nothing that could get him to tell Godfrey to slow his efforts now.
He only vaguely recognizes the sounds that are pulled from him now, distant enough that they sound to him like someone else entirely, his fingers curling tighter into Godfrey's hair as he takes the side of his lover's face and bites at his own lower lip, a vain effort to stifle himself that's met with middling success.]
I don't— I don't know that I can last—
[The warning is gasped rather than spoken, the last words swallowed down as another swallow pulls at the head of his cock and threatens to wring him out entirely.]
Edited (I posted it by accident oops) 2025-03-03 05:39 (UTC)
[ Godfrey has no such fear of the fate of the evening; the incessant thud of his pulse between his thighs tells him exactly what to do.
It had been no secret, how long the pair of them had gone without a lover's touch - that both had thought their prior partners would be their last forays into romance. Each fleeting pass of his fingers is an agony, and even those more innocent touches flare through him. Were they to make this a night to remember, a night which lingered to allow sufficient expression instead of burning white-hot for a few sparing moments, there would need to be some relieving.
This is the only way Godfrey knows how - Vladimir's preferred order of operations. And Godfrey hadn't realized how he had missed it until hard cock had been slid down his throat.
He hears Gale, of course; he is all he will hear. Godfrey hears the plaintive, gasping note of his voice, the desperation. The thought that, perhaps, the night might not withstand this first climax. He glances up with a fluttering, holding his gaze in his own. Thoroughly undaunted by the prospect as he, slowly, descends again, his throat shuddering around the rock-firm head of his warm dick. Godfrey shifts his hips to show himself plainly; his own thick and engorged cock, standing with all firmness against his abdomen. Twitching with each sound his mouth earns from him as he continues; forming his tongue to the sensitive head of his dick, focusing his efforts where he's most tender, his gaze sliding back down to his work as he bobs, shorter and quicker. ]
[He could swear his heart stops beating in the moment that Godfrey locks eyes with him. That alone is near enough to make him come entirely undone, the pulsing arcane light where the orb had marked him glowing brighter still. Godfrey's gaze drops as he redoubles his efforts, focused, dedicated, and Gale's head drops back as a vocal sigh leaves him, a brief moment of calm before Godfrey's tongue rapidly pushes him towards the edge, each stroke and bob sharp and short and absolutely exquisite.]
Godfrey—
[That warning tone remains, but gives way to an impassioned, wordless cry, the sound of sweet release as Godfrey's efforts push Gale past his peak. He feels himself unravel, complete and overwhelming, and he is unable to resist the roll of his hips as he spends himself in Godfrey's mouth, spilling over his talented tongue as lets out a sound he scarcely even recognizes as his own voice.]
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no subject
Sir Godfrey had felt those warm and lonely pangs, certainly, in the solitary nights since his widowing. Something hollow at the pit of his chest which ached for companionship. Nights passed in lonely silence, when the cool of his sheets was felt just a little harder.
Of course he'd felt a certain longing in that dark quiet. He was only a man - only if he were any less would he feel nothing at all. He has remembered this as he allows it to pass through him, as he prays to the sunrise for His guidance. And pass it did - the fires would die if he only waited, perhaps with sparse help from his hand. That he struggles is human. That he feels the cold and empty space beside him is proof against that very loneliness - proof of his beating heart. It is a pain to be treasured.
But it is not one that follows him to the streets. This loneliness has always been a passing and brittle thing, one that dies before it wounds too deeply. So long as there's something else to be thought about, Sir Godfrey can stave it off a little while longer. He's tricked himself into believing that this is the same thing as resilience.
Now that he feels bare skin against his, needful hands and hot whispering words urging him forward, he knows what a lie he had fed himself. The hunger for this skinship had always been there. Godfrey had just kept it out of sight.
Now, gloriously satiated, Godfrey can look back and see only how starved he had been. He exhales as though he's been holding his breath for a year, a great and warm heaving of his broad chest. Godfrey's hand finds Gale's, and he pushes against his palm, soaking desperately in the contact as he shifts his body against his. Godfrey presses his lips into the heel of his palm, the inside of his wrist. Then, his lips, soft and warm, his tongue darting between them as he lets his hand wander down his chest. Down his stomach.
Thrills for the way he flutters beneath his hand. ]
no subject
With urgency having been sated, there is nothing to do but to take their time and enjoy one another— and Gale has always prided himself on being thorough in all things, as dedicated a lover as he was a scholar.
He passes his thumb lightly over Godfrey's lips, his gaze dark and heated as he nods to encourage him further. Even so soon after release, he can feel himself beginning to stir again, a slower rouse now that the frantic edge has been blunted. The soft glow of the orb lights what little space remains between them as he lets his own fingers trace their way up the length of Godfrey's arm, the curves of muscle and flushed skin, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth as he guides his touch over the other man's chest and abdomen.]
Where shall we begin, hm? The possibilities are so many, I hardly know.
no subject
And still, there is a newness to this, the way Gale's body receives his touch. The breath in his chest shivers and his muscles pull in response to the skating touch of his hands. A thawing, as though his hand were the spring over a long winter. It's at once relief and intoxicant. His hand finds his hip and his soft breath finds his lips, as Godfrey lowers himself to taste of their warmth. It splashes through him as his hand roves, his other driving into the pillows holding his weight, and he presses further into the warmth of skinship - for once, without a care for anything but the pursuit of it, for the pooling warmth in his hips.
His lips find the underside of his jaw next, and breathlessly, he responds-- ]
Slowly.
[ --before they press again into his fluttering and tender throat, his hand playing at his chest.
Then, lowering again, until his hand finds something firm. ]
no subject
[Gale echoes him fondly, an affectionate note in his voice as his breath hitches softly, Godfrey's lips against his jaw making his own pulse rise so that he can nearly taste it on his own tongue. The freedom to touch is almost overwhelming after so many weeks spent watching from afar, nights where he had discouraged himself from even considering such things, and Godfrey's hair is like silk between his fingers as he entangles them within it once more.
The press of lips against his throat spurs an approving sound at the very back of it, but it's cut off by another sharp hitch of breath as Godfrey's hand finds him hard and wanting, already eager to be touched even so soon after their shared release, and he lets out a shuddering exhale of breath as Godfrey's fingers curl against him, lowering his brow to rest atop the paladin's head.]
Please...
[However slowly, he only wants Godfrey to touch him, however he so pleases— just let it continue.]
no subject
Godfrey sighs harshly and presses his lips against the stubbly underside of Gale's jaw. His fingers close take loose hold of the throbbing length beneath his fingers, drawing his warm handprint up to the firming head, and slowly back down.
A hot chill down the back of his neck, to feel warm breath and hard fingers in his hair again. Godfrey continues guiding the throbbing dick in his hand, ignoring the impatient twitch pulling between his own legs, and shifts to take the tender lobe of his ear between his teeth, sighing against its shell.
The warm swell in his chest might be replaced by a sinking stone of ice if he were to dwell for a moment on the impropriety, the boldness. And from there, likely, he would be dragged to further unfair depths, distorting what was currently underway. A betrayal of the love he once shared with his husband. The infinitesimal smallness that must be the shadow of him against the lost favour of a goddess. None of those things are more important than the warmth, the skinship, the shiver in Gale against his bare skin as he feels his cock respond to the slow and gentle attention of his hand. There was no room for such second-guessing, no time for reticence.
Beyond words, how close he is - that it takes only the barest shift, a slight turn, to meet Gale's lips with his own. Warmth thrills through him.
Then, breathless, he moves down. Lips to chest. Tongue to the tender glow.
Down his stomach. ]
no subject
His fingers remain tangled in champagne hair as Godfrey begins to sink downwards, and suddenly Gale feels as though he has no breath at all, swallowing his voice completely for several moments as lips steadily trail their way down his throat, his chest, all the way to his abdomen, the anticipation of what's to come making him absolutely ache even as he remains in the paladin's grasp.
Gods above, it was hardly unusual to see Godfrey on his knees, and yet Gale had never allowed himself to even imagine this, even when he'd allowed himself to indulge in the occasional fantasy.]
Godfrey.
no subject
What else would his body chase? What other touch would he prolong? The thought thrills through his spine and drives Godfrey forward; sighing hotly against his skin, feeling the tender and pebbly skin of his nipple beneath his lips and pressing in. Godfrey's broad hand flattens against his hardened dick and desperately pushes, moving with the whole of his body as his hips flex toward his warmth, the throb between his own legs for now unheeded.
By the time he reaches his hips, Godfrey's fingers are again finding his shaft, his body gently tangled in crushed pillows and his lovers' legs. He lifts his gaze to catch Gale's above him, studies his face in the hot half-second he has before the throb between his legs pushes him to move again; takes both thighs on his shoulders and, reverently, presses another kiss against the tender crook, the soft flesh between pelvis and inner thigh, sighing harshly. He had wanted this to last forever, naturally - to take his time exploring him.
This intention was set before the hot throb between his legs had begun to grow urgent.
He centers himself; both legs to a shoulder, his eyes lifting, seeking to touch Gale's own gaze as he rises slowly along his hard length, tongue first. His gaze lowers as he comes to its firm head, wraps his lips around it, and swallows it as far back as he can.
Until hot and shivering throat-muscles contract against its tip. ]
no subject
What follows is so much more than he could have anticipated, having been so long without mortal touch. Anyone else would look positively sinful in such a position; Godfrey remains earnest, beatific, pulling a sigh from Gale as his tongue drags along his turgid length. Gale meets his gaze, his own all heat, and the very picture goes straight to his cock, another surge of wanting, the featherlight brush of lips against him almost too much to bear— and then he is lost, sheathed in wet heat, the close of Godfrey's lips drawing for a strangled sound that borders on a half-choked sob.
His head drops back and he fights the urge to buck into Godfrey's mouth, remaining as still as he can manage as he finds himself swallowed deep, white-knuckled grip clutching at the pillow jutting out from beneath him. The sound that escapes him is guttural and wordless, one he had never known himself able to make before now, and his fingers blindly tangle into Godfrey's hair as he struggles to ground himself.]
Gods, h-how—
[Any question, rhetorical or otherwise, is abandoned, lost to another moan that feels as though it has been coaxed forth from the very furthest depths.]
no subject
[ Wet, internal contours quiver against the firm head of his cock as Godfrey's voice buzzes around him. His head draws back up its length, lips over wet skin, pale gold hair falling before his eyes as Gale's fingers aimlessly shift through. He watches in thick silence each movement, every shift, his mouth draws from him. The raw wanting in him - the effort it takes to restrain it, to keep from pressing his hips to Godfrey's nose and the back of his throat to his cock, to push himself as far down his throat as he could reach.
Godfrey takes a hard breath through his nose and, wrapping his hands gently around its girth, lowers himself once again. He passes the tender underside of his hard dick over his tongue, leading him slowly back down his neck, his fingers following closely the trajectory of his mouth. His other hand braces softly against his hip as Godfrey finds something approaching a rhythm; his head bobs up and down in his lap, already heading down once the head of his cock nearly breaches his lips.
The thump of his heartbeat between his legs grows more and more incessant with each spit-slick pass of his hand over his shaft, with each gagging pull of the back of his throat around his hard dick as he swallows him back. ]
no subject
It's almost too much; the steady rhythm Godfrey has struck, the way his hands never leave him untended for even a moment, following in the wake of debaucherous lips and tongue, the way Godfrey so eagerly swallows him back, the effort betrayed by the soft gagging that Gale feels vibrating against his cock, and oh, even that is so much better than he had expected. His thighs tremble, his breath coming short— gods, if they wanted this night to last, it was going to be a challenge, but there is nothing that could get him to tell Godfrey to slow his efforts now.
He only vaguely recognizes the sounds that are pulled from him now, distant enough that they sound to him like someone else entirely, his fingers curling tighter into Godfrey's hair as he takes the side of his lover's face and bites at his own lower lip, a vain effort to stifle himself that's met with middling success.]
I don't— I don't know that I can last—
[The warning is gasped rather than spoken, the last words swallowed down as another swallow pulls at the head of his cock and threatens to wring him out entirely.]
no subject
It had been no secret, how long the pair of them had gone without a lover's touch - that both had thought their prior partners would be their last forays into romance. Each fleeting pass of his fingers is an agony, and even those more innocent touches flare through him. Were they to make this a night to remember, a night which lingered to allow sufficient expression instead of burning white-hot for a few sparing moments, there would need to be some relieving.
This is the only way Godfrey knows how - Vladimir's preferred order of operations. And Godfrey hadn't realized how he had missed it until hard cock had been slid down his throat.
He hears Gale, of course; he is all he will hear. Godfrey hears the plaintive, gasping note of his voice, the desperation. The thought that, perhaps, the night might not withstand this first climax. He glances up with a fluttering, holding his gaze in his own. Thoroughly undaunted by the prospect as he, slowly, descends again, his throat shuddering around the rock-firm head of his warm dick. Godfrey shifts his hips to show himself plainly; his own thick and engorged cock, standing with all firmness against his abdomen. Twitching with each sound his mouth earns from him as he continues; forming his tongue to the sensitive head of his dick, focusing his efforts where he's most tender, his gaze sliding back down to his work as he bobs, shorter and quicker. ]
no subject
Godfrey—
[That warning tone remains, but gives way to an impassioned, wordless cry, the sound of sweet release as Godfrey's efforts push Gale past his peak. He feels himself unravel, complete and overwhelming, and he is unable to resist the roll of his hips as he spends himself in Godfrey's mouth, spilling over his talented tongue as lets out a sound he scarcely even recognizes as his own voice.]
Gods above—