Answered Prayer

Dr. Polidori is in his room, horrified, satisfied and aroused by what he has finally just done with Byron. His mind keeps ranging back to the small scourge he keeps under his bed for moments of crisis such as this. Finally, he can’t take the internal torment anymore, and he rummages past the things that have collected under his bed for the instrument. Soon, he is reciting the mea culpa and flagellating himself. Unfortunately, it’s very hard to flog yourself quietly…

Byron opened the door quietly and watched the spectacle for a few minutes before clearing his throat.

"Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Vírginem--" He times his blows to match the words, and Byron's throat clearing falls during a quiet moment. Startled, he drops the scourge and jumps, stifling his cry with a hand to his mouth. "My...my Lord! You startled me..." he says, quietly, eyes downcast, and bright red. He's panting a little, and his face is covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"Why are you flogging yourself, dear Poli?" Byron says patiently, folding his arms over his bare chest. He's wearing a robe, but it hasn't been tied, revealing absolutely everything.

Polidori can only stare, his mind absolutely blank at the dual prospect of explaining himself and of Byron's cock.

"Well?" Byron raised an eyebrow. "Is this just masochistic joy or are you punishing yourself for some sinful deed?"

"I--I--" he croaks, shoving the scourge under the bed, as if by hiding it he can make it go away. He's beginning to get chilled.

"Is this because we've fucked now?"

"Please leave," he says, very quietly.

"Why? Is this a private flogging?"

The statement is so absurd that Polidori gives a brief, startled burst of laughter, before collecting himself again. "I...I'm sorry if the noise disturbed you," he says, as calmly and rationally as he can.

"Answer me, Poli. Are you punishing yourself or just enjoying?"

Byron demanded.

"Yes," he says, the word coming out as a pained, reluctant gasp.

"Which one?"

"You know which one."

"Ah. What have you done this time, you sinful lech?" he smirked.

"What?" he gasps. "You--you know very well what I've done!"

"Because we've fucked? And you think you can flog yourself hard enough to punish yourself for that?" Byron grabbed the scourge from under the bed. "Would you like me to hit you properly?" he grinned like he was baring his teeth.

Polidori's eyes go wide with shock and, yes, terror...and his cock hardens, only adding to the absurdity of the situation. He falls backwards, catching himself on his hands, still on his knees.

Byron burst into laughter. "Well?"

He can only stare at the man standing over him, speechless again.

Byron raised the scourge and brought it down on Poli's back hard.

Polidori shrieks, his back arching and hands clawing as though he's cumming, his cock rising until it's resting against his stomach.

Byron chuckles, his own cock hardening at the masochist's reaction. "You like that?" he murmured.

"...yes..." he gasps, staring up at Byron, hands nearly touching the other's feet as he's on all fours.

"Kiss my feet." Byron demanded, raising the scourge and bringing it down across Poli's shoulders.

Polidori screams with wild ecstasy, and slides across the rough floor on his knees, lowering his lips to Byron's feet, kissing frantically.

The scourge arcs and connects again with his back with a wonderful snapping sound. Byron wasn't lying about being able to hurt him properly.

Polidori's hands are clenched so tightly that his nails are digging into his palms, but he hardly notices--his attention is all on the feet in front of him, and the delicious agony of the scourge across his back and shoulders. It does feel much better than when he does it himself.

"Suck my cock, Poli." Byron tells him after maybe twenty lashes. His cock is now fully hard and he can hardly stand to have Poli kissing his feet when his cock is demanding attention.

Polidori lifts himself, rather stiffly and painfully, to oblige. As satisfying as kissing the feet was, taking the engorged cock in his mouth is thousands of times better. He rests a hand on each of Byron's thighs to steady himself, braced for more blows.

Byron hits Poli more carefully now, though still hard enough that he's raising red welts across the man's back. He just doesn't want his cock getting bitten.

Polidori tries to feel Byron's muscles moving, so he'll know when the other is about to land a blow and not accidentally bit his cock off, and he's completely lost in the sensations of sucking and being expertly beaten.

Byron grabs Poli by the hair with one hand, keeping him steady in his motions and forcing his cock deeper into the other. With his other hand he arcs the flogger through the air until the tips bite against Poli's tender skin. His entire back and shoulders are red now, welts crisscrossing the area.

Polidori groans around his mouthful, arching his neck to test how far he can extend with the hand in his hair, eagerly leaning forward again to reach along the shaft, giving a stifled cry as the scourge strikes.

Byron forces Polidori's mouth all the way to the base of his cock, groaning. He bends over the other so his abdomen is pressed against Poli's forehead, the scourge reaching the other man's bare buttocks now.

Polidori helplessly wraps his arms around the other man's middle, pressing himself close, groaning in a fierce, desperate rhythm, as the scourge reaches this new area.

Byron curls the implement and snaps it over the tender white flesh, starting to cum in the back of Polidori's mouth.

Polidori struggles a bit as he tastes the unfamiliar substance, lifting his ass to meet the scourge.

Byron whips the flogger over Polidori's ass one last time as he orgasms, then drops it on the floor, pulling himself back from the other man's mouth.

Polidori screams all the sounds that had been trapped by the cock, clinging to his Lord and passionately kissing his firm stomach.

Byron chuckled, looking down at Poli with a smirk. "Feel better, or do we need to whip more sin out of you?"

"...ahhh..." he gasps, looking up Byron's chest at the man standing above him.

"Did you swallow my cum?"

"...yes..." Polidori says, eyes unfocused. He's swaying a bit, supported by Byron's hips.

Byron pulls him to his feet by a hand and his hair, helping him to the bed and sitting with him.

Polidori leans against him, head resting on Byron's shoulder, face turned to him with rather a guilty expression.

Byron laughs, "Still feeling guilty, are we?"

"Always," he says with a dramatic sigh, smiling.

Byron slapped him.

"Ah!" he cries, clapping a hand to his face, shocked. He looks at Byron with a hurt expression.

Byrrn chuckled, laying back on the bed and yawning. "Feel better now?"

Polidori hesitates for a moment before laying on his bed next to his lover. "...yes?" he says, not sure of the right answer.

"Oh Poli," the handsome man sighed. "You really should answer honestly."

"...mostly I just feel confused." He insinuates himself onto Byron's shoulder.

"So I shouldn't play into your masochistic desires?"

"Ah...I didn't..." he feels rather trapped by this conversation...although most conversations with this infernal man are traps.

"Speak up then."

"You should...do what you want..." he attempts.

"I always do," he chuckled.

"I'm glad..." he snuggles happily against the other.

New Puppy

R is drinking alone in a cafe, nursing a bottle of wine and a loaf of garlic bread

He finds his head jerked back painfully by the hair and someone slides into the bench with him, nipping his unshaven jaw with a grin. Grantaire is released and Luc takes the wine bottle his friend is nursing, taking a mouthful. He makes a face. "Not very good, is it."

Halfway between fear and arousal (until he sees that it's Luc, when the balance races to arousal). "Ah...Luc..." he gasps, instantly hard. "N-no, it's not..."

Luc grins, pulling R into a kiss by his rumpled cravat.

R blushes, mumbling, "Luc...here?"

"Why not?" he bites R's lower lip with a smirk.

"...I taste like garlic?" he murmurs, realizing the cafe, already fairly quiet, emptied at Luc's arrival.

Luc raised an eyebrow. "How horrible. I won't be able to kiss you until you wash out your mouth." he murmured practically against Grantaire's lips.

"...sorry..." R has never been very good with teasing.

Luc pushed the other further back against the wall in their little booth, pulling his head back and undoing his cravat.

Grantaire is too shy to actively participate in being undressed...but he doesn't protest. He does, however, struggle playfully.

The struggling only makes Luc's grin a bit wider. He pushes off the other's cravat, stripping off Grantaire's coat and instead of working on the buttons, takes his shirt in two hands and pulls. The sound of the buttons popping off and rolling away on the floor was quite audible.

R's eyes widen, trying to hide his near horror at the destroyed shirt he cannot afford to replace.

Luc smirked, tugging off the rest of R's shirt, biting at Grantaire's chest just beneath his collarbone.

R forgets the shirt, head flying back, clutching at Luc, nails digging in wherever they can, giving a bitten off scream at the sensation.

Luc smirked, putting a hand between the other's legs, squeezing none-too-gently as he dug his teeth into R's skin harder

The grope is just this side of painful, making R thrash beneath the other. He tries to escape, mostly playfully, rolling his shoulders from side to side to loosen the teeth.

Luc groaned, releasing him with his teeth but not his hand. He grabbed Grantaire by the hips and pulls him down so he's practically flat on the booth and Luc can be on all fours above him, smirking down at him.

Trapped by the cock, flat on his back, R gasps and pants up at Luc, enjoying the helpless fear of being totally prone.

Luc chuckled. "Mm, you've missed me, haven't you." he squeezed the other again, a little less hard this time.

"Ye--" finding that he can't finish the word, hips already beginning to buck against the restraining hands, R simply nods.

Luc groaned, pleased. He tugged at the other's pants, fingernails clawing down the other's ass and thighs.

"Ah! Oui, mon Dieu, Luc! Je viens..." he grits his teeth, effort turning his face nearly purple as he strains to hold on.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast." Luc warned. "Or I'll stop." he bit down on the other's nipple, fingers curling around Grantaire's cock.

Grantaire moans heart-rendingly, arching his neck so he can watch the hand on his exposed cock, rocking from side to side at the teeth on that sensitive area.

Luc smirked around the other's nipple, pulling back and taking R's cock in his mouth

"Ah!" R's legs kick and jerk as though he's being hung, biting deep into his lip, eyes shut painfully tightly. His hands roam up and down the other's chest, clawing a little.

Luc is surprisingly gentle at first, then starts using his teeth, fingernails digging in hard at Grantaire's hips, dragging down hard.

"...Luc...je vien tres bientot...s'il te plait..."

He pulled back, smirking. "Not yet." he practically growled, tugging down his own pants and pulling Grantaire into his lap. He spat in his palm sliding two fingers into R's ass.

Tears flow down R's face, his breathing becoming muffled sobs, as he fights not to come. His hand strays desperately to his own cock, eyes still closed, trying to brace himself for Luc's cock.

Luc pulled the other further into his lap, impaling him completely with a loud groan, tipping his own head back slightly. "Oh god...."

"Ah..." if he wasn't already so aroused, being entered that quickly at such an angle would be too much. As it is...it's delicious. He tenses his ass, pulling Luc deeper, stroking him.

Luc groaned, pulling the other against his hips hard. "Ahh..." he clawed his nails down the other's stomach. "Come for me."

Screaming, R grabs his own cock, giving it two hard thrusts, folding it against himself to minimize the mess, before coming violently, rocking back into Luc's chest. "Don't stop...don't stop..." he gasps.

Luc pulls out and forces his way back in hard, coming inside the other, filling him and leaking out.

R jerks wildly, dry-coming despite his shrinking cock. Tears run down his face again, and he burrows against his lover's chest, shuddering with every breath. "Gooood..." he sighs at last, curving his neck back to watch the other.

Luc groaned, collapsing on the other slowly. "Mnnn... so tight." he didn't pull out quite yet, just laying on R.

Even shrinking, Luc is still quite the ass-full. R groans, squashed and filled to the brim. "Roll over, you lump..."

"Mmm..." he smirked, slowly getting up, dripping down onto the still-prone Grantaire. He chuckled, pulling his pants back on. "I'm going to get some -real- wine." he smirked, standing and heading for the counter.

R can only nod, sprawled and dripping on the bench. "...hurry..." he gasps. He likes, almost needs, to be held after sex.

Luc returned in only a few seconds, with wine. He pulled the other up into his lap, smirking. "Want to pull up your pants?"

"Can't..." he's hauled into Luc's lap, nestling with a little purr, groping for the wine.

Luc opened the wine, handing it to R with a grin. When the drunkard took it, he pulled up R's slightly torn pants, managing to cover most of him.

R gulps the wine to refresh himself, a little trickling from the corners of his mouth. He wiggles to help the pants on, frowning a little.

Luc licked the spilt wine from his lover's chin, grinning. "You need new pants."

Grantaire shivers with delight at the feeling of having his face licked. He blushes a little, glancing at his pants and the scraps of his sleeves still clinging to him. "No, it's fine, really.

Luc raised an eyebrow. "These are going to fall off the second you stand up." he indicated the lack of buttons -which had joined the shirt buttons under the table- and a tear up the thigh.

R shrugs, trying to be casual. "Don't worry about it, I can get more."

"Come home with me, Rene will dress you." he smirked, stealing the wine back for a long drink.

"...ah...no, really, that's not necessary." R blushes further, trying not to think about where he'll end up spending the night; he has too much pride to always go to his friends for help.

"You don't get a say in this." he laughed, as if R had said something incredibly naive and silly.

Grantaire makes his most stubborn face, which isn't very convincing, considering the thoughts rolling through his head. "I spent half of this week at Rene's. That's more than enough."

"You know we both expect you to start living with us permanently any day now." he smirked. "We have bets going on how long it will take you to realize that."

R's mouth gapes open and closed, bright red now. "I...what?"

"I've already lost, so I don't see any point in prolonging it." he laughed. "Did you honestly think we were just 'putting up with you'?"

R nods, bursting into noisy tears, trying to apologize through his sobs.

Luc smiled a little, stroking the other's hair and pulling him against his chest. "It's alright."

R creeps up the larger man until he's secure in Luc's arms. "Let's go...home." he whispers into the larger man's ear.

Luc wrapped Grantaire up in the remnants of his coat and picked up him, holding him against his chest easily. "Home it is." he agreed, carrying his lover home.

Grantaire steals the bottle for the trip, nestled in Luc's arms.

Luc keeps Grantaire's shirt and jacket closed as best as he can as they walk home, grinning. He opened his mouth for R to pour wine in.

R reaches up, a little awkwardly, giving Luc wine. Blushing a little, he murmurs, "it might be easier if we just..." and pours some into his own mouth, offering lips and wine to his lover.

Luc smirked, kissing the other, opening his mouth into the kiss to swallow the offered wine. "Mmm."

"What? You make that face a lot," R teases, though he's still cautious.

"I just like your new method... where'd you learn that?" he taunted, nibbling Grantaire's exposed neck.

Grantaire laughs, but there's a shadow behind his eyes. "Drunkards can't be choosy. ...are you sure Rene won't mind?" he asks, obviously changing the subject.

"You do realize he enjoys having us in the house, right? Or at least you. There's just no way he's getting rid of me." he grinned.

Grantaire laughs, "Whether he wants you or not, my little barnacle? ...if you're sure."

"Barnacle?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Mmhmm. I heard how you two met."

"Hm." he laughed. "Did he tell you it was love at first sight?" he nipped the other's jaw again, shifting the other man in his arms to hold him more comfortably.

R raises an eyebrow. "...not exactly. He -did- tell me that you more or less took over his flat. ...you can put me down if I'm too heavy." Contradictorily, he snuggles closer to Luc's chest.

"I did take over. And he liked it." he chuckled, wrapping his arms around Grantaire so that he could pinch the other's ass as he walked.

"Ooh!" R wriggles happily. "Mmm...you're good for each other, you two. You...you work. I don't want to change that."

"Do you not want to stay with us?" he asked.

Grantaire looks up, eyes wide and hurt. He can't speak and doesn't need to.

Luc sighed. "R, you know we both love you. We hate to see you sleeping in the streets and in strange beds when your home is with us."

Grantaire looks away, unable to meet Luc's eyes. He nods, burrowing even closer. "Enjolras won't like it," he says, suddenly.

"And I care what Enjolras thinks about this? I'm not giving you a choice, Grantaire. You're coming home." he raised an eyebrow, nails digging into the drunkard's ass.

"Ah..." the sensation makes R writhe, cock hardening, pressing his ripped pants apart awkwardly.

Luc grinned. "Good boy." he ignored the other's erection teasingly, nails still dug into the other's flesh. "Ah, we're here." he dropped R unceremoniously on the doorstep, opening the door.

R stumbles, barely avoiding hitting the door with his face. "...thanks," he says, wryly.

"Welcome. Get up and get in." he smirked.

He pads in, looking around as though seeing the flat for the first time.

Though everything was fairly neat and cozy, there was a loud banging in the other room accompanied by moaning.

R blushes, retreating to the comfort of Luc's arms. "...maybe we should come back later?"

"No." he raised an eyebrow. "This is our flat too." he opened the door to their room and stuck in his head. "Time to leave! Rene, it's dinner time." There was some yelping and a barely dressed woman fled from the flat, red-faced.

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "Oh. A woman. Um...I can cook. Does he know I'm coming?"

Rene came out after a moment, grinning and naked, followed by Luc. "My R." he hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. "Uh... what happened to your pants?"

Grantaire wraps himself around Rene, eel-like. This makes him let go of his pants, the torn garment sliding down his hips to land on the floor. He jerks his head in Luc's direction.

Luc grins, shrugging. "I admit, it's my fault."

"I think I still have some that might fit you." Rene teased. "I don't even have to ask what you were doing, but I am curious as to where."

Grantaire blushes. "...I'd appreciate it. Just to borrow. I didn't mean to interrupt...he made me come here."

"He made you? Did you have other plans?" he chuckled.

"Well, I had reservations at a fine hotel..." he shakes his head, clearly close to tears. "...thank you."

"So you'll stay?" Rene sits on the lounge, pulling Grantaire down with him to cling to him.

R snuggles, eyes saying everything he can't, twisted around to gaze into Rene's eyes.

"Je t’aime." he nuzzled into the other, arms wrapped tightly around Grantaire's waist.

"Je t’aime aussi." Grantaire yawns audibly, suddenly exhausted by the day's events.

"Mm this is very touching, but ....I'm hungry." Luc leaned over them.

"What do you want?" Rene chuckled, kissing Grantaire gently and nestling against his chest.

R laughs. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a wretch?"

"Many times." he slid onto the lounge to bite R's ear.

Rene left the other two to start dinner, laughing.

"Hey! That's not for eating!" Grantaire smooshes and stretches to perfectly fill the space between them.

"Until there's something else to eat, it'll do." Luc growled into the other's ear, gnawing.

R laughs, writhing with delight, erection growing. "Mmm...blow into my ear like that again..."

Luc blows into the other's ear, grinning. He licks along the outer edge of R's ear. "Mmmm, not as filling as I wanted, but pretty tasty."

"Hmm. That's because Rene washed me last time I was here. Normally it would be much more...filling. I could get used to this soft life," he laughs, voice getting a little breathy.

"Good. Because now that you're here, you can never leave!" Luc said in a dramatic voice.

R laughs, stretching out and glancing around. "...I've gotten that impression. Shouldn't we help Rene?" Grantaire lowers his voice, "I didn't think he could cook..."

Luc grinned. "He can... he only burns things about half the time."

Rene gave him a look from over a recipe book.

R laughs, grinning at Rene. "What's for dinner?" Turning back to Luc, he adds, "you've obviously never suffered Ferre's cooking. He turns everything into blackened lumps of coal."

"You'd think a doctor would be good at following exact instructions." Luc puzzled. "You can help him if you want. I'm not cooking. I cooked yesterday."

R looks surprised. "Oh? I thought Rene did all the cooking. ...actually, I thought you two ate out all the time. He's fine at following instructions, but he gets distracted. And it's more of an art than a science..." R goes to the kitchen, twining himself around Rene. "Rene, love...you're adding sugar. I think it's salt you want. Has my presence flustered you?" he grins.

"Apparently." he laughed a bit. "But it was only a pinch, I doubt we'll be able to taste it... right?"

Luc snickered. "We only eat out most of the time."

R grabs Rene's hands, pulling them behind his lover's back playfully. "...right. Out with you." Keeping him restrained like this, Grantaire marches the taller man back to Luc, taking over the kitchen.

Luc takes Rene, ruffling his lover's already ruffled hair. "I'll make sure he doesn't go near the dinner again." he teased.

Rene raised an eyebrow. "I didn't see you trying to make anything for us." he poked Luc. "Thank you, R. I didn't know you could cook."

R blushes, mumbling something as he goes back to the kitchen. The sight of fresh chicken almost has him drooling. Cutting it into pieces, he chops garlic, rubbing it into the meat with some other spices. He lays it in a pan, making sure the fire is well stoked before setting it in to bake. "...your bread's a bit stale, mmm? Never mind." Sniffing at the crumb-ridden butter to make sure it's good, he slices the bread, coating it with butter and a little more garlic, before laying it on top of the stove to soften.

Rene watched him cook from Luc's lap, smiling a little. Luc was busy picking grit out of a scrape on his knuckles.

R joins them while waiting for the food to cook, nestling between Rene's legs, looking up at Luc. He yawns again, eyes drifting shut.

Rene started to run his fingers through Grantaire's hair slowly, brushing it out and then starting to braid it. Luc looked down at R, raising an eyebrow.

"...what're you doing?" he murmurs sleepily, grinding his head in Rene's lap a little.

"Mmmnn." Rene groaned a little when R pressed back into his lap. "Braiding your hair, amant."

"...I see. ...don't let the chicken burn..." he drifts off to sleep.

"I won't." Rene chuckled, finishing the braid and moving his hands to Grantaire's shoulders to massage him gently.

Luc peers down at his two men. "...you wouldn't believe how much trouble it was to...convince...him to come here." He says softly. "Stop that, his hair's weird enough," he laughs, "my restless-handed love." He places a hand beneath Rene's chin, forcing his head back for a kiss.

Rene made a soft noise into the kiss, finally recovering his mouth and nestling against Luc's chest, pulling Grantaire further into his own lap. "What is it about this boy that makes him refuse things he wants and needs?" he murmured.

Luc shrugs; questions like that make his head hurt. "We just won't give him a choice." He strokes Rene's hair, trying to 'braid' it, and essentially tying it in knots.

"I never intended to." Rene waved his hands away, untangling his hair with a grin. "Why do you even try, my love?"

"I wanted to see if I could do it." Luc frowns at the sleeping man. "We should've done this sooner. He...he belongs here." Luc trails off, having difficulty expressing himself at the moment.

Rene nodded, nuzzling against Luc's chest, tightening his arms around Grantaire. "I wish he thought he belonged here too." he sighed.

"He will..." Luc says, almost menacingly. "Go check the food."

"Yes sir." Rene chuckled, shifting so R was in Luc's lap and he was free to check the meat.

Luc squeezes at R, much more comfortable taking out his frustration with his hands than having to talk to the silly man.

Rene poked the food until he was satisfied that it was ready, getting out plates and setting the table. "Wake him up so he can eat with us."

R shifts in his sleep, making little unhappy noises, clearly having a nightmare.

Luc shook R as gently as he could manage, still squeezing a bit.

"...don't like women!" R mumbles as he wakes. He's disoriented at first, peering up at Luc. "Mm. Right, Rene's..."

Luc looked down at him with a funny expression. "I didn't know women haunted your dreams."

Rene grinned. "It's time to eat. Both of you get over here."

"...what? Oh. Um..." Glad for the interruption, R scrambles out of Luc's lap, almost racing for the table.

"I hope it's done to your liking." Rene served them all. Luc got up from the lounge, sitting at the table with his lovers.

Grantaire devours his food as if it's going out of style, barely tasting it.

Rene chuckled. "Where do you put it all?" he poked Grantaire's skinny abdomen, smiling affectionately. "We'll have to start feeding you more regularly."

R grins, settling back in his chair, watching the others eat. He's trying to gauge their reactions to the food, as discretely as he can.

Luc eats with his usual hunger, table manners seeming to be somewhat of a foreign concept to him. Rene savours everything.

R gives a happy sigh, so happy and content that it almost hurts.

When Rene's finished he clears the table. Luc smirks, grabbing Grantaire and tossing him over his shoulder, carrying him to the bed.

"Ack! What're you doing? Put me down!"

"Fine." he dropped him on the bed, jerking the remnants of Grantaire's pants off.

"...ah..." Not wearing any underwear, R's freshly roused cock almost leaps out once freed.

Luc smirked down at him. "There, is that so bad?" he strips off his own shirt and cravat.

Flat on his back, R shakes his head, grinning. With a half-moan, he reaches up for the dangling treasure between Luc's thighs.

Luc groans, weaving his fingers through R's hair, guiding the drunkard's head towards his rapidly rising cock

"Oh...is that how you want it..." he murmurs, in the seconds before he's effectively gagged. He opens his mouth eagerly, closing his lips just behind Luc's head, licking delicately at the little dimpled hole.

Luc tipped his head back, hand still in R's hair, groaning. Rene came in, pausing at the doorway with a grin. "Hm, what a delicious scene I've walked into."

R slides his teeth forward, grazing them along Luc's head until his teeth are closed gently over Luc's head, lips pulled back. If Luc doesn't keep still...R tugs backward a little, enjoying the pressure on his hair. His eyes flick to Rene.

Luc drew in a slow breath. "Nhhh..." his fingers tightened in the other's hair a bit, but he didn't dare be as rough as he usually was.

Rene smirked, going to kneel behind Luc, kissing downwards from the small of his back.

R smiles around his prize, pleased by how much control this position gives him. He's been saving saliva in his mouth since he began, and he begins slowly working his way up Luc's shaft, pulling himself along with his lips. He wraps his arms around Luc, so that his fingertips can brush Rene.

Rene laces their fingers together loosely, tongue darting into Luc as R starts drawing more of the large man into his mouth. Luc groans, knees practically buckling. "God.."

R grips Rene's fingers, squeezing his pleasure to the other. Relaxing his throat and carefully breathing through his nose, R feels Luc bump the back of his throat. Now he begins to move, having found his limit, drawing the organ in his mouth to ecstasies with throat, tongue, lips and teeth.

Rene chuckled as he feels Luc tense and relax with each motion Grantaire makes with his mouth. Carefully, he begins to work a finger into Luc, stretching him gently. His tongue and lips continue to explore the other's skin slowly.

Luc's back arches and he bites off a few cries. "Ff-fuck..." his fingers clench in R's hair spasmodically.

R draws his and Rene's joint hands in, until they're pressed around Luc's hips, giving Grantaire leverage. He's rocking back and firth, pivoting on Luc's cock, teeth safely tucked up for the most part.

Luc was keeping himself up mostly using Grantaire's head, so the rocking nearly brought him to his knees. He moved forward a little so he could lean on the bed. He hissed a little as Rene slid in a second finger, unable to keep himself from rocking his hips into R's mouth.

R laughs, the sound mostly emerging as a vibration around Luc's cock. He bites a little, warning Luc to keep still. He rolls his head from side to side now, tongue curling along Luc's length.

"Oh god.." he groaned, voice lower with lust. He tries to stay still, eyes rolling back a bit, but is so close to orgasm that he can't keep from thrusting a bit. Rene's fingers curled against Grantaire's, a third finger slowly forcing its way into Luc.

R has mercy on Luc, opening his mouth and pulling back so Luc can thrust, tongue flicking wickedly every few seconds.

Luc's entire body tenses and writhes with the sensation, his length hardening even further before he was forced over the limit by Rene's fingers finding his prostate. Luc cried out as he came in R's mouth.

R seals his lips, drinking the cum like fine wine, eyes closed with pleasure. His own cock is beaded with moisture, still hard and ready.

Rene removes his fingers as Luc collapses to the bed, laying on his back, still thrusting a bit. Rene smirked, forcing R back on the bed and straddling him.

R peers up at Rene, grinning wildly, a thin white trickle running down his jaw.

Rene licks the last drops of Luc's cum off Grantaire’s cheek, shifting forward so he can press his ass against R's erection. Luc's watching them, panting happily.

"Ah!" R cries, the sensation of entering someone still extremely novel. He fights to keep still, to let Rene impale himself.

Rene groans, tightening around Grantaire's cock, riding the other. He kept one hand on R's chest, the other starting to stroke his own dripping cock.

"...ngh..." R groans. He tries to grab Rene's cock, but another wave of pleasure lays him flat on the bed again. Effectively pinned, Grantaire can only state up at Rene, watching his beautiful lover ride him, pumping his own cock, black hair trailing over sweaty shoulders.

Luc sat up a little now, smirking as he moved behind Grantaire to grab his wrists, pinning them behind his head, almost painfully. Rene bit his lip, moaning as he rode Grantaire, speeding up as he pumped his own erection.

Grantaire shrieks, nearly coming at the sensation, trapped between the two men. He bites his lip as well, fighting for every continued second of pleasure.

Luc grins, bending down to kiss Grantaire, biting his lip. Rene arches his back on top of his lover, tightening around him as he comes over R's chest.

Grantaire lasts two more heartbeats after feeling the wet heat hit his chest. His head is flung violently from the kiss as he comes deep inside Rene.

Rene bucks again, crying out. "Oh, R!" he moaned. Luc laughed, pulling Grantaire up into his lap.

R gives a little eep as he's suddenly propelled backward, panting and sweating as he gazes dreamily at Rene.

Rene grins back at him, breathing hard. "Mmm." he flowed bonelessly into R's lap, laying his head on his lover's shoulder.

Luc chuckled. "Someone likes having his wrists held." he twists R's wrists a bit.

R gasps, feeling a bolt of pleasure roll down to his groin, even though he can't harden yet. He blushes, ducking his head.

Rene giggled a little, barely lucid at this point. "My beautiful boys." he closed his eyes. Luc yawned, releasing R's wrists and grabbing a blanket to cover them all with.

R burrows under the blanket until only his tousled hair is sticking out, nestling between the others. He looks distantly disappointed at his release.

Luc kissed Grantaire gently, hiding under the blankets with his lovers. They could already hear gentle snores from Rene.

Soon R is asleep, his hand automatically seeking the heat of Luc's cock.

Luc grins, closing his own eyes and tucking Grantaire's head under his chin comfortably, a large arm slung over both his lovers.

Grantaire dreams that Enjolras has tied him upside down to a frame with his legs spread, a bottle of alcohol shoved up his exposed ass. He wakes slowly, hard, tense and panting a little.

Rene's groaning in his sleep beside him, only partly awake. "Mmmnn... everything's sticky." he managed.

Luc was still snoring.

R clings closer to Rene, still half asleep, somewhere between desperate arousal and fear.

Rene opens his eyes, pulling Grantaire closer, hands sliding down his back tenderly. "R?"

"Mmm?" he tries to sound casual.

"You're warm." he purred, massaging his back and shoulders lazily.

Grantaire smiles, relieved that Rene didn't notice anything was the matter. He groans happily, rolling to give Rene better access, even though the massage is more painful than soothing; R's back is more knots than not..

Rene worked his fingers into R's back for a few minutes before yawning and stretching out. "Mmmm... so warm."

"Are you going back to sleep?" he sounds almost worried.

"Maybe." he admitted, grinning sleepily. "It'd be nice to sleep in, don't you think?"

"I don't think it counts as sleeping in at three in the afternoon when you've already been awake. I think that's going to bed early."

"Is it already three?" Rene laughed, kissing Grantaire's ear. "I suppose I should stay awake then." he nibbled gently at his lover.

R gasps happily, offering his ears. He doesn't mention how little he's been sleeping lately.

"Did you sleep well?" Rene purred into his lover's ear.

Grantaire nods, rolling so his other ear can be seen to.

Rene licks around the edge of the newly presented ear, chuckling. "Mmm..."

A sleepy voice came from just above them. "What're you doing under the blankets?"

R gasps, a hand groping to find Rene's cock. "'s warm down here..."

Luc pulls the blankets over his head so he can see the other men, smirking. "And it seems to be getting warmer as we speak."

Rene gave a soft gasp, arching into Grantaire's attentions, nibbling his ear happily.

R grins, wrapping his rough hand around Rene's shaft, just exploring the contours at first. He turns so his head is resting on Luc's thigh.

Luc shifted so R's head was nestled against something that was growing a bit larger. Rene fastened his mouth over Grantaire's ear, his hand wandering across his chest to toy with a dark nipple.

"Ah..." R gently grinds his head against the lump, awkwardly reaching behind himself to grab this one, as well. He runs his thumbs over both heads, delighting at the sensation. His chest shivers, arching to give Rene more access.

Rene thrust gently into R's hand, lowering his mouth to his lover's nipple, kissing and licking it gently, his hand exploring the neighboring nipple. Luc smirked, laying back with his hands behind his head, pleased.

R squeezes, urging Rene to be still. He wonders if he could take both in his mouth, but is too shy to mention it. Instead, he works both hands lower, rolling the delicate flesh in his palms.

"Mmm..." Rene manages around his nipple, biting down a bit. "Ahh..."

Luc grabbed R's head, pulling it towards his lap, pushing the blankets off.

Captured, R pulls Rene's cock along behind him, trying to line the two of them up without saying anything.

Rene saw where he was headed and scooched into position so R could make good his plan. Luc was oblivious until "Ah!"

Delighted, Grantaire grins at Rene before lowering his mouth over both heads, licking and nibbling furiously, wanting this to last as long as possible.

Rene attempts to grin back but is soon fighting to keep his hips still as Grantaire licks and nibbles at him and Luc. Luc's fingers tighten in R's hair again and he cries out, completely not expecting this.

Grantaire offers a hand to each of them, balanced on his knees. Opening as wide as he can, he slides his mouth completely over both heads, sucking at them like candy.

They both took a hand, Rene trying not to claw at him. His whole body is stiff in an effort to keep himself from bucking into his lover's mouth. Luc takes the hand and squeezes, groaning, pleased.

R pauses for a moment, enjoying the position. Then, breathing very deeply through his nose, he forces himself to take more, curling his tongue around and between the delights in his mouth, rolling his lips under the arches of the two heads.

Rene's fingernails dig into R's hand and the sheets and he bucks twice, face going red as he struggles not to come.

He loses his battle almost immediately, coming in R's mouth. Luc groans, thrusting his hips a little for more attention.

After swallowing his results, R gently spits Rene out, concentrating on Luc. He laughs deep in his throat, humming a little for the sensation. He digs his tongue as deep into the dimple on Luc's head as he can, as though he can lick the semen out before it emerges.

He gets a taste of precum as Luc bucks a bit into his mouth. Rene lays panting in the bed next to them.

Grantaire circles the base of Luc's head with his teeth, holding him still. He allows his lips to roam forward and back, tongue still assailing the small opening

Luc groaned loudly, cumming in the other's mouth, hands tightening in his hair and on his hand.

R bucks a little, not quite coming, but again eagerly drinking Luc down, holding the shrinking cock in his mouth. He has a vivid image of his dream, but with Luc instead of Enjolras, and cries out in delight.

While he's drinking Luc, Rene seizes him from behind, spreading his cheeks apart and sliding his tongue into the other.

"Ah!" R assumes an...interesting position. Offering his other hand to Luc, he stretches out on his belly, legs straight out behind him. He looks as though he's tied to the bed.

Rene used his weight to pin Grantaire's thighs and ankles, and Luc smirked, twisting R's wrists, holding him taut for Rene. Rene's tongue dove further and he slid his hand around to cup Grantaire's erect cock.

Grantaire moans and writhes, bucking delightedly against the bodies holding him down, arching himself up for Rene. His expression, if anyone could see it, is almost surprised, as if asking, "how did they know?"

Rene strokes the other's erection slowly, but none-too-gently, sliding two fingers into R

Luc tightens his fingers around R's wrists, pulling and twisting a little.

R cries out in absolute pleasure--he's never felt this good, and is convinced he might Rene kneels on the back of R's knees, effectively making it impossible to even buck against his fingers. After a few thrusts with his fingers, he adds a few more, practically attacking his prostate. Luc grinned as he watched them, his own cock rising just beneath R's chin

With a true scream, totally immobilized, R finally comes into Rene's hand.

Rene smiles, slowly pulling his fingers out of the other, licking the semen off his fingertips. "Mmm." he melted so that he was laying on top of R.

R curls over the two men, panting, eyes shining. "...how...why...?" he murmurs absently.

"Mmmm." Rene chuckled. "We know you well enough, mon beau."

Luc released R, and took his own cock in his hand, stroking languidly.

"...you're hard again already?" he gasps, blushing, looking away from Rene.

"Well, watching you two makes it hard to be anything but." he smirked. Rene purred, yawning sleepily. "Mmm."

R grins. "Allow me, m'sieur." He gently takes Luc's cock, rolling the shaft between his palms.

"Mm, why thank you..." he grinned back, allowing R total control over his cock.

R licks his hands quickly, trailing both thumbs over the head, running them over the veins, trailing his pinkies over Luc's balls.

"Mmm.." he could feel Luc's testicles swell as his arousal grew.

Humming to himself, Grantaire continues, each pair of fingers working a different area, pinkies curled under Luc's balls.

Luc groaned quietly as he came once again, his length shrinking slightly when he was finished.

R licks the semen from Luc's belly, feeling almost full from the amount he's drunk. He splays across Luc, hand still wrapped around his cock.

Luc practically purred with pleasure, pressing the other two men against himself.

"Are you done for a few minutes, my steed?" Grantaire teases. "Men would fall all over you to get your secret."

"I think I can remain soft for a little while." he chuckled, bringing R's hand to his mouth to kiss it.

"Shall I time you and tell our dear Combeferre the astounding results?" Grantaire works his way further onto Luc's lap, nuzzling the massive, warm chest. He beckons Rene onto his own chest.

"I'm fairly sure he knows how quick I can be already,” he said suggestively. Rene snickers and nestles into Luc's neck. "Luc, you're horrible."

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "...oh?"

Luc smirked. "Do I have to elaborate?"

R blushes a little. "...oh. I see. I rather thought...well...Enjolras..." he looks fleetingly hopeful.

"You weren't wrong there either." Luc decides against mentioning the few nights he's spent in Enjolras' bed.

Grantaire looks briefly puzzled, then crestfallen. "...that's not what I...oh. You...mm."

Bocca Chiusa

Antonin, sprawled naked in bed with Elijah curled against his chest, turns to his lover and casually asks, “Do you trust me?”

Trying very hard not to think of Aladdin, Elijah gives the cellist a brief puzzled look, then nods.

Antonin smiles; he hadn’t expected a different answer, but one has to ask. “Good. Meet me at this address tomorrow at five. PM,” and hands the boy a piece of paper. With that, he rolls out of bed and begins dressing.

Not really expecting an answer, Elijah murmurs, “…what’s this for?”

Shrugging, Antonin pulls on his jacket and, blowing Elijah a kiss, leaves his boy’s bedroom. He has a key by this point, and Elijah can hear his door being locked.

Elijah shakes his head, bewildered, but…he’s also a little excited. Maybe more than a little. Maybe to the point that he’d like to touch himself, except that a) he just had sex, and b) he’s not allowed to. Instead, he burrows under the blankets and curls up to sleep.

The next day, Elijah arrives at the address at about 5:03. He’s surprised to see that he’s been sent to a private home, if a large, luxurious private home. He knocks tentatively, and is relatively unsurprised when Antonin answers, even though he knows Antonin and Davide share an apartment.

Antonin angles his head to indicate Elijah should come inside, and has turned and walked away without making sure his boy is following.

Looking around just a little apprehensively--what if this is some sort of cult? What would Mike say if he knew about this?--Elijah inevitably follows. He’s quite impressed, if a little awed, by the art, furniture and obvious expense of the house, and he hurries after Antonin’s retreating back; a view he very much approves of. “…Antonin? Whose house is this…?”

Antonin stops in a small guest bedroom. “Strip.”

Elijah sighs and begins undressing. “Ok, but…”

The cellist smiles his predatory smile and points to some rope and two large, metal angles, connected by a fancy metal fan-shape, laying on the bed. “Do you understand yet?”

Elijah shakes his head, giving Antonin an almost pleading look of confusion.

Antonin smiles knowingly. “Kneel.” Without waiting, expecting that his command will be obeyed, Antonin takes a length of the white and gold rope from the bed and ties Elijah’s calves and thighs together so that he will have to remain kneeling and won’t be able to stand. The knots are both functional and decorative, and Antonin admires his work. “There. Now put your arms in the music stand position.”

Elijah puts himself in the desired position, his eyes growing wide with nervous certainty.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? A very dear friend of mine is having a dinner party, and I am playing a few pieces as part of the entertainment. You will be my music stand.” ‘As part of the entertainment’ goes unsaid. Antonin lifts the beautiful music rest, also white and gold, and straps it to Elijah’s forearms with soft leather buckles. He nods his approval.

Trying not to squeak with terror--he’ll be in public like this…naked…! Being Antonin’s music stand at home is one thing, but…

Antonin glances at his stand. “Something you’d like to say? A colour, perhaps?”

Elijah considers it for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Good.” He’s rewarded by a kiss on the forehead, before Antonin reveals his last surprise. “You’re being quite good and quiet, but just in case you forget,” he fastens a leather band that matches the rope and stand around Elijah’s mouth, “music stands don’t talk. Even when they’re embarrassed.” He smirks at his boy’s red cheeks and red cock. “There, now. They’re waiting for us.” With that, he gathers Elijah into his arms and carries him to the patio.

Elijah is astounded when they step outside--the patio and yard are quite full, but there are no women in sight. There are couples and groups of men in handsome clothes, talking, sipping drinks, and eating hors d’oeuvres, but what catches his attention far more are the naked or mostly naked men. Some of them are servers, with trays of food and drink. Some of them are kneeling or sitting by another man’s side; some of these are wearing collars. A few are delicately posed throughout the garden, painted to look like marble statues. Elijah is delighted, and suddenly feels much less uncomfortable.

Antonin places his stand in an area that has been kept clear for him, where his cello already is. He places some (rather unnecessary) music on the stand and positions himself on a chair--he had been offered a boy to sit on, but had declined, not knowing how Elijah would react. He quickly tunes the cello, settles the instrument between his legs, takes up his bow, and begins to play.

Elijah is much more able to focus on the music than the first time he had been a stand, even in this strange place. For one thing, the sheet music is quite large and covers his eyes; he has to be careful to breathe softly so he doesn’t blow it away. He hasn’t felt quite this awestruck by Antonin’s playing since that first benefit concert, so he allows himself to relax and not worry about the eyes watching him, but to just listen to the music and play his small role in it.

Accarezzévole

“If you want me to stop, you say ‘red’. If you want me to slow down, you say ‘yellow’.” Antonin regards Elijah calmly, seeing that the other man has absorbed what he’s just said

“Yes, but…”

Antonin shakes his head, smiling wickedly. “Strip,” the older man commands, snapping his fingers, his tone and the action requiring obedience.

Blushing, though he’s not sure why, seeing as they’ve been fucking for weeks, Elijah slowly undresses. Somehow, being coolly watched while he’s getting naked is more intimate than their usual mad-rush-to-get-clothes-off-for-sex. Go figure. This time around, Antonin hadn’t made it out of his shirt or socks.

Antonin nods his approval, sitting on the edge of the bed and pinning Elijah with an unwavering stare. “Turn.”

Elijah turns around.

Antonin smiles, pleased by how readily the boy responds, but…”Keep turning. Slowly. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me naked. Lots,” Elijah protests.

“Shut up,” Antonin says, gently, rotating one finger.

Elijah pouts delicately, but does as he’s told. He doesn’t make his turn showy or pretty, but Antonin still enjoys the view, and the thought that all this beautiful young flesh is on display just for him.

“Bring me my boots.”

Puzzled, Elijah looks for the footwear; things had gotten a little scrambled in the undressing. He eventually finds one boot under his underwear, and the other under the bed. He brings them triumphantly to Antonin, with the air of a dog who is extremely pleased with himself for pleasing his master.

Antonin leisurely stretches out a long foot, giving Elijah a pointed glance, then looking at the boots.

Elijah fumbles for a while, never having dressed someone before, but finally manages to get a boot on each foot, with both of them laced.

“Good.” The one word is sufficient, especially when combined with a brief, rough pat on the head.

Elijah beams, his tongue all but lolling out.

Antonin stretches his foot out again, resting it on Elijah’s chest.

The boy gasps, eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of the rubber and leather just beginning to press on his sternum.

So easy, Antonin thinks. Not that it’s a bad thing. The cellist begins to incrementally apply pressure, slowly but surely forcing Elijah back. Finally, the smaller man is almost to the floor, propped up on his hands, staring wide-eyed up at the owner of the boot. Antonin allows himself a pleased smile, especially because he doesn’t think Elijah is really seeing the world. He stands in one fluid motion and kicks Elijah’s arms out from under him, so the other man now has his back on the floor, legs bent up beneath him. Interesting. “You’re very flexible. How nice. You don’t need to respond,” he says, curtailing the motion he sees Elijah’s lips begin.

Elijah turns the words into a moan, arms stretched straight out above his head. The position is one that he’s been in before, and he can maintain it for quite some time.

“You look very much like a cello, actually. But that’s not what we’re doing now.” Antonin puts his boot back on Elijah’s chest, just the toe to begin with, grinding into his ribcage with the same motion he would use to put out a cigarette.

Elijah’s arms flail down, until they’re stretched out beside him, nails grasping at the short carpet.

Antonin lowers his heel as well, seeing how much pressure he can exert before Elijah’s breathing becomes laboured and he lifts just a little. Experimentally, he sees if the pressure can slowly be increased. Results; not really. Bored with this after a while, Antonin wedges the toe of his boot under Elijah’s side and rolls the prone boy onto his front. The cellist then kicks each of his captive’s legs straight, revealing his pert ass.

Elijah gasps, his toes curling as they try to burrow into the carpet and join his fingers. He’s never done anything like this before, and now that he has, he has a feeling he won’t be able to stop. He would do anything for Antonin right now, and he’s fairly certain that the cellist is aware of this.

Luckily Antonin is used to—in fact, expects—this reaction from boys he plays with (although it’s been a while, what with the whole Davide thing), and is able to keep his urges in check and not have either of them do something stupid. He grinds a boot over Elijah’s ass, heel on one cheek, toe on the other, watching the muscle writhe and jump beneath the rubber of his soles. He pries the cheeks apart with his toe, probing at the still-moist opening between them.

Convinced, just for a moment, that Antonin is literally about to shove a boot up his ass, Elijah is on the verge of saying ‘red!’ but holds himself back in time. He doesn’t want this to stop, and he had trusted the man enough to get into this situation.

Antonin feels Elijah’s body tense beneath him, and has a good idea of what the boy is thinking and experiencing. He had been on the receiving end of similar treatment from one of his professors. He slowly works the boot up Elijah’s spine until it rests solidly between the boy’s shoulder blades. Here, he’s able to exert quite a bit of pressure, driving Elijah’s face into the carpet until he’s forced to turn his head to the side or have his nose squashed flat. Antonin loves predictable responses. And seeing carpet marks on boy’s faces. And boot prints, especially.

Elijah feels his cock twitch; it’s not quite ready to get hard again, but it’s certainly letting him know that if it could…he’s rather glad it can’t, honestly, because it wouldn’t really have anywhere to go at the moment, seeing as it’s pressed to the carpet.

Antonin hears, and feels through his boot, Elijah’s breathing speed up. He moves his foot still further, until it’s resting across the boy’s neck. He’s carefully not to press down here, but he does enjoy the knowledge that, if he wanted to, he could hurt Elijah very badly in this position. Smiling softly, he moves his boot until it’s resting on Elijah’s face, covering it from jaw to hair. He grinds just a little, just enough for Elijah to feel the force behind it and leave a short-term mark.

Elijah moans, his legs spasming out behind him as his face is pinned to the rough carpet. His mind is beautifully, delightfully blank, and he loves it.

Wanting to try one more thing with his boot before they move on, Antonin rolls Elijah onto his back again. The boy rolls limply, corpse-like. Antonin carefully kneads Elijah’s genitals with the toe of his boot, again letting the other man feel what he could do without putting any real weight into it. “This is not about sex,” he murmurs, “we just had sex. This is different. I might do things to your cock or balls,” he leaves the statement wonderfully ambiguous, “but it won’t be sex. At least not as you know it. Nod if you understand.”

Eyes a little wide, head raised to watch the action down there, Elijah nods.

“Good.” Antonin plants his foot between Elijah’s thighs, and reaches down to pull the other man onto his knees by the hair.

Elijah makes a series of sharp gasping noises, his eyes rolled back in his head with ecstasy. He easily allows himself to be led this way, and is soon kneeling, a little unsteadily, in front of Antonin.

Antonin carefully releases his handful, making sure Elijah falls onto all fours and not over. “Lick them,” he murmurs. Then, remembering who he’s dealing with, he further stipulates, “my boots.”

Looking briefly disgusted—these are outdoor boots, not just decorative! Elijah lowers his face to the leather and gives a tentative lick. They taste salty, not at all the way he had expected them to. They actually taste a great deal like Antonin, especially his yummier parts. Encouraged by this, Elijah applies himself to the task with gusto, using his whole tongue and eagerly working the leather.

“That’s enough.” Grabbing Elijah by the hair again, Antonin pulls the smaller man up onto the bed beside him, allowing him a moment’s respite before digging his nails into his lover’s thighs.

Elijah gasps, limbs twitching wildly, but remains sprawled on the bed.

Antonin stands; he’s really in almost the perfect position, everything is easily accessible. After a moment of gripping as much flesh as he can, the cellist rakes his nails up Elijah’s thighs to his hips. Here, he digs in again, clutching the small handful of skin there as though he’ll rip the knobs of bone loose.

Elijah arches his neck beautifully, throat extended, lips parted.

Antonin continues, his nails gouging long lines along Elijah’s abdomen and chest, until he lights on the boy’s nipples. Unsure of how much Elijah likes having his tits tormented, the cellist begins gently, with just a pinch to each.

Elijah bucks and writhes, his mouth a needy ‘o’ of surprise, watching Antonin carefully.

Pleased, Antonin makes his hand into a claw and grabs Elijah’s pec, dragging his nails down the muscle and over the nipple.

The smaller man shivers beneath his lover’s nails, certainly not protesting, even as the treatment gets rougher.

“I think I’ll pierce those,” Antonin says idly, tracing a finger lightly over Elijah’s collarbone, enjoying the constellations of gooseflesh that follows. He places a knee between Elijah’s legs, bending over the smaller man until his mouth is resting on the area his finger has just left. After a moment of just breathing on Elijah’s upper chest, Antonin bites.

Elijah feels his world explode with clichéd fireworks, eyes closed. He finds his hands wrapped in Antonin’s hair, pressing the cellist closer, not sure if he’s keeping him from pulling away because he doesn’t want the feeling to stop, or because he doesn’t want more damage.

Antonin laughs throatily, pulling back and blowing on the wet spot his bite has left. He braces himself by putting a hand on either side of Elijah’s body, leaning in even further. He pushes Elijah’s head so it’s turned to the side, exposing the arch of his neck and throat.

Suspecting that he knows what’s coming, Elijah draws a quick, hissing breath, bracing himself.

He’s not disappointed. Antonin sinks his teeth into the side of Elijah’s neck, sucking and biting a mouthful of skin. He moves his hands to rest on Elijah’s chest, keeping him still.

Elijah cries out, tangling his fingers deeper in his lover’s hair, pulling them as tight together as he can when his arms are so weak.

Antonin laughs. “I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?”

Elijah manages some disjointed syllables.

“Yes. Precisely.” Getting the boy a drink of water, Antonin helps him drink before settling Elijah against his chest.

Elijah finds the sensation of his naked back against Antonin’s dress shirt oddly comforting, and he realizes he has a huge, dopey grin on his face. One hand strays up to the bite on his neck, like a hickey multiplied many times over, and his hips buck, back arching like a mini-orgasm.

Antonin laughs, stroking the confused lines off of Elijah’s forehead. “I thought so. You sleep.”

Elijah does as he’s told.

Once he’s sure Elijah is asleep, Antonin goes to his car and brings back his surprise--his cello and a sheaf of music. Going back into Elijah’s room, he sits on the bed watching his boy sleep.

It doesn’t take long for Elijah to wake, now that he’s being stared at. “Mm? Antonin? Are you going somewhere?” Stretching, Elijah feels the bites and scratches and shivers with pleasure.

Antonin shakes his head and stands, offering his hands to help Elijah up. “Come. I need to practice.”

Elijah laughs. “Alright. I’d…like to watch.”

The cellist smiles. “Oh, no, my boy. You have a much more important function than just watching.” He pulls the covers off of Elijah and gathers his lover into his arms. “You’re going to be my music stand.”

Elijah’s eyes widen, and he feels his cock come to life, much to his surprise. “Oh…”

Antonin nods and places Elijah on the floor, then busies himself removing his instrument from its case and preparing to play. When he’s finished, he turns his attention back to the still-sleepy boy looking up at him. “Kneel, like this. Put your arms out. Good.” The cellist places his music on his stand, then frowns. “You’re a little low. Ah!” He drags an ottoman in from the living room and has Elijah kneel on that. “Much better.” Elijah’s elbows are resting on his body, with his forearms stretched in front of him. The music is leaning against the boy’s chest and braced on the arms. “Hold still, now. I can’t read the music if it’s shaking all over the place.” With that, his attention visibly leaves Elijah; he’s now just a stand.

Elijah quickly settles himself, not knowing how long he’ll have to hold his position. He’s very excited by all of this, and feeling quite vulnerable and exposed, especially because Antonin is now fully dressed.

Antonin positions a chair where he wants it and takes up his bow. Frowning at the music, he shuffles the sheets until he finds what he wants to play. He doesn’t really need the music and he spends most of the piece with his eyes closed, but it’s the fantasy that matters. He’s chosen a relatively short piece to start his stand off with, but he still has to cough a few times to make the stand hold still. He remembers each of them.

Elijah is so worried about remaining still that he’s made himself quite tense…which, of course, just makes it more difficult. He’s almost relieved when Antonin sets bow and instrument aside--he hadn’t been able to enjoy the playing as much as he would have liked.

“I noticed you staring at my belt,” Antonin says, removing the music from his stand and smiling at Elijah. “Would you like to see it more closely?” He deliberately pulls the belt free, making sure he has the boy’s complete attention.

Elijah had indeed noticed the belt, which is beautifully tooled but still simple and elegant black leather. Not sure what to do, he remains frozen in his music stand position, eyes following the belt’s movement.

“Good.” Once the belt is loose, Antonin doubles it and lightly strokes the leather over Elijah’s face. “You may move.”

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Elijah shivers happily, arching his face like a cat to meet the belt.

Antonin smiles and leans back in his chair, the belt casually flipped over one shoulder. Spreading his knees, he pats his lap, inviting Elijah onto it.

Elijah’s eyes widen. He’s pretty sure he knows what this means, although his parents had been quite liberal and would have a discussion with him about any misbehavior. He oozes off the ottoman and scrambles into the older man’s lap, blushing a little as he has to adjust his erection.

Antonin resists the temptation to claw all the smooth flesh he’s being offered--plenty of time to do that after he’s been belted--and settles for stroking Elijah’s ass and back instead. He waits until he feels the boy relax on his lap before bringing the belt down across his thighs.

Elijah yelps and would have launched himself out of the cellist’s lap if Antonin hadn’t placed an arm across his back to keep him in place.

“More?” Antonin asks, almost lazily, as though Elijah’s answer could matter less to him.

“…yes. Please…”

“Very well.” Instead of striking immediately, Antonin runs cool, pale fingers over the red mark his initial, not-very-hard blow left. He waits until Elijah is squirming and on the verge of begging for more, and therefore doesn’t notice him raise the belt.

The second blow is just as much of a surprise as the first, and Elijah almost slips loose in spite of the arm holding him. He finds himself unexpectedly laughing, pushing himself back into position; hands touching the floor, ass raised in Antonin’s lap, legs hanging down the other side.

Antonin responds with a quick series of strikes, getting steadily harder, but unlikely to leave a mark lasting more than a few hours. He likes to know exactly how much force will leave what kind of mark, and has spent hours practicing on himself. He’s even taken notes.

Elijah laughs and moans and yelps and squirms, his mind somewhere far away.

Thoroughly amused, Antonin gives him a few more good hits before setting the belt carefully aside and gathering Elijah into his arms. Standing, he lays Elijah on the bed and sits beside him.

Giggling, Elijah looks back at Antonin, his eyes clearly asking for more. Not to mention his cock.

Antonin strokes the little welts he’s left on Elijah’s ass and thighs, pinching whenever he finds a good one. “I think I’ll tattoo f holes here and here.” He touches the places, one on each ass cheek.

“What’re f holes?” Elijah manages to ask, mind mostly melted.

“I’ll show you later.” Antonin leaves off stroking abruptly, and rakes his nails across the red marks.

Elijah bellows, almost falling off the bed until Antonin hooks a hand between his legs. His bellow turns into more of a squeak as his delicate flesh is grabbed, but he settles back on the mattress.

Antonin rolls the boy over, letting his reddened parts cool on the bedding, and seizes Elijah’s wrists instead.

Elijah coos, allowing himself to be pulled across Antonin’s lap again.

The cellist amuses himself by squeezing the boy’s slender wrists for a while, then claws his way from wrist to elbow, leaving a trail of red lines.

Eyes closed, Elijah moans happily, safely held by Antonin’s free arm.

Antonin bends, grabbing one of Elijah’s arms and raising it to his mouth. He kisses the boy’s wrist, slowly turning a press of lips into a bite. After sucking for a time, he kisses his way along the track of scratch marks to Elijah’s inner elbow and leaves a matching bite there.

Elijah, by this point, is only capable of gibbering.

Smiling to himself, Antonin gathers Elijah into his arms and holds him like a child, stroking his hair and nodding in accord with everything he murmurs. When he feels that the boy is sufficiently lucid, he snaps for Elijah’s attention. “You are not to touch yourself until we see each other again. If you see Mike, you will have sex with him, but nothing else. You cannot have him hold you down or beat you or do anything different than what you two have been doing. Understand?”

A little wide-eyed at the thought of not touching himself, especially after what they’ve just done, Elijah nods.

“Good.”

Minuet in Trio

Elijah forces himself to wait a few days before calling Antonin. His boss at the bookstore notices that something is weird; usually the boy is reading a weird book when he doesn't notice customers come in, not looking at his phone. He hadn't even known Elijah had a cell phone.

Bracing himself, Elijah closes his eyes and presses the send button. When he hears the quiet ringing, he brings the phone closer to his ear as though it's a bomb.

After a few rings, the phone is answered. There are a few rustling noises, then a quiet. "H'lo?"

"Hey...Antonin? It's Elijah. Is this a bad time? Did I wake you?"

Davide seethes a little. "This is Antonin's boyfriend." he snarled, then said cheerfully. "Can I take a message?"

"Ohshit! I mean...um...hi. I'm Elijah, we met at the benefit, and, ah, we had wanted to get together for coffee. As friends. If that's ok with you. I mean..." Shit. Plus, the guy sounds like a total psycho.

"No, I don't think he'll be leaving the bed. We were up late last night and he's still kind of... tied up." Davide picked at his fingernails. "Don't expect him to call you back."

Elijah grits his teeth, making horrified squeaking noises. "Uh huh...um...thanks..." He gingerly touches the end button, as though it were the detonator of a bomb strapped to him.

"Who was that on the phone?" Antonin managed from under his pillow.

Davide gives his sweetest smile, plonking the phone back on the nightstand. "Elijah."

"Hm, wha'd he say?"

"Oh, everything. Next time you fuck around, you might want to choose someone more discreet," the violinist hisses.

He laughed. "We didn't fuck around." Antonin removed the pillow from over his head. "Come on, stop being so jealous."

Davide raises an eyebrow, and the crescendo is practically audible.

Antonin yawned.

"He said you met at the benefit."

"Yeah we did. That doesn't mean that's when we first met." he countered.

Davide makes an exasperated noise. "Are you using some definition of 'to meet' that I'm not aware of?"

"It seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Just stop it! I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you're just...!"

"Just what? Being ignored? You only see what you want to see, Davide."

"Fine then. Let's go have coffee together. The three of us."

*Oh shit.* "Fine."

"Good." Davide smiles again and picks up the phone. "Hi, Elijah? It's Davide. Sorry about a minute ago, I must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed or something. We'll pick you up for coffee in...oh, half an hour? Ok, great." The violinist snaps the phone shut with a triumphant smirk.

Antonin scowls at him. "I need a shower." he says, heading to the bathroom.

Feeling like his heart might burst when he sees who's calling, Elijah feels physical pain as his heart quickly contracts when he hears who it is. He agrees to meet them, not really able to think of a way out of it around the chorus of 'oh shit' filling his head.

"Of course, sweetie," Davide calls after him.

*****

Elijah had considered calling Mike and asking for advice, but the whole thing is so stupid he decides against it, and concentrates on trying to find a 'going out for coffee with a man you really, really like and his crazy-ass boyfriend' outfit.

Finally, he heads outside to wait, pacing anxiously.

They swing by in Davide's car, a little red sports car. Davide is chatting animatedly with a grumpy and defeated looking Antonin.

Elijah's legs briefly try to make a run for it when he sees the car approaching, but he forces himself to wave, teeth gritted into something approaching a smile. Which becomes even more forced when he realizes the back seat is one of those tiny, only-infants-will-fit-back-here sports car seats.

"Hop in." Davide smirked. "So, Antonin tells me that you've known each other for awhile. Where did you meet?" he clearly has no intention of letting them get off easily.

Panicked, Elijah stalls for time by jamming himself into the seat, glad that Antonin got out so he doesn't have to crawl over his lap...and trying to get clues from the cellist's face as they pass. "Um...well...you know...around, at the symphony."

"Really? I'm at every concert. I'm the first chair violinist. Funny that I've never seen you!" he smiles in the scariest way possible.

Elijah physically recoils...his allotted two inches. "It's, ah, a big hall, and I usually have to rush off right after the performance, so we don't see each other often!"

"Mhm. So what do you do?"

"I work at the White Cat." Elijah tries to keep his relieved sigh silent.

"And how long have you been fucking my boyfriend behind my back?"

"Ohmygod! What?!" His desperate denial lacks some credibility based on his scarlet face.

"God, he's so obvious! Antonin, what the fuck!" Davide curses, the little car swerving dangerously.

Antonin sighed, chin in hand. "Watch the road."

Elijah has a sudden, child-like urge to crawl under the seats and say 'you can't see me!' or rock back and forth. He's totally unsure of what to say.

"How do you explain this?" Davide screams, pulling over into a parking lot, barely avoiding a parked truck, and shutting the car off.

"I don't have to! He's just awkward! We're not fucking!"

Some people in the parking lot raise eyebrows and pretend not to listen.

Elijah nods furiously, hoping it will help.

"Puh-leeze. Just awkward?" Davide scrutinizes Elijah in the rear view mirror. "Ok, well, he is that, but you've definitely been doing something. And I don't give a fuck if you haven't actually been fucking, something's going on between you."

"He thinks I'm sexy and we went out for a drink." Antonin laughed. "That's all. Any weirdness is all from him."

"Well, we've proven he's not blind," Davide snaps, his righteous fury fading a little. "He's just being weird because he has the hots for you, but you told him that you were totally unavailable and you were just going to have coffee to torment him?"

"Pretty much. Also, he's cute to look at."

"I guess so. If you go for that whole Scott Pilgrim look. Well. This has taken way too much time. I need to get home and practice." He turns the car on again, and they head out at less likely-to-die speeds.

"Fine. Just drop us off at Starbucks, okay?"

"Alright. Call me when you want a ride, sweetie." He blows Antonin a kiss, stopping beside the nearest Starbucks.

"Thank you." Antonin gets out, blowing a kiss back to the violinist.

Elijah scrambles out, almost launching himself away from the car. He's barely clear when Davide screeches away. Elijah stares, wide-eyed, at Antonin. After a moment, he starts laughing, helplessly.

"And that is my boyfriend. How's yours?" Antonin laughed with him.

His eyes beginning to fill with tears and on the edge of hysteria, Elijah takes a few deep breaths, holding out a hand for Antonin to wait. "He's, um...cool with...you know, whatever."

"He doesn't care?" Antonin asked. "Nice. Lucky."

"Tell me about it. So, um...let me guess. The sex is amazing?"

Antonin burst into laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is it that obvious?"

Elijah gives his apologetic grin, trying not to notice how great Antonin looks when he's...breathing. "Well, it'd have to be, wouldn't it? ...I think we have to go to emergency to get my balls removed from my abdomen."

Antonin grinned. "Yeah, he's a bitch, but it's usually worth putting up with."

"I'm really sorry. I don't mean to cause problems." Elijah is suddenly serious again. He makes his hands into little T-Rex arms. "I don't like confrontations!" ...serious for about three seconds.

Antonin looked blankly at him.

"...the dinosaur? From Toy Story? Uh...never mind." Face bright red yet again, Elijah gestures to the coffee shop. "...coffee?"

"Coffee." he nodded, chuckling.

Elijah nods gratefully and stands aside for Antonin to enter first. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch kid's movies..." he murmurs, mostly to himself and trying to avoid watching the cellist's ass.

"I just don't watch much TV." he laughed, going to order, leaning over the counter, giving Elijah a great view.

Shaking his head wildly to clear the fantasies out of it, Elijah sidles up beside Antonin to place his order. Only as close as friends would stand. "My treat. For putting you in the dog house."

"I'll take that." Antonin smiled, leaning in to kiss Elijah's cheek.

Trying not to babble incoherently and to ignore the knowing look of the cashier, Elijah manages to only drop his debit card once before putting everything where it needs to go and pushing the required buttons.

Antonin laughed, finding them a seat in the corner and grabbing their drinks on his way.

Elijah follows, wondering why convenient holes never appear. Or hotel rooms. He sits across from Antonin, a little gingerly because of certain hindrances in his pants.

Antonin smiles, pushing Elijah's drink across the table towards him.

"Thanks. So, uh, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"...why -are- you with him?"

"The sex."

Elijah laughs. "Fair enough." He searches his coffee foam as though it contains tea leaves for him to read.

Antonin chuckled. "Davide and I just ended up in bed together after fighting for weeks, then when I woke up the next morning, we were dating."

"Wow. Bummer. I mean...sorry. Not, sorry you're dating. Sorry I said that. It was rude."

"Well, it's honest anyway. I'm not sure if rude is the right word. Davide is... very singular."

Elijah nods, trying not to look despondent over his chances of their first meeting happening again without bodily harm. "So...when do you play next?" he says, fighting the urge to touch himself under the table.

"Next weekend. Do you want to... get a hotel room?"

His initial 'Yes!' is quickly followed by a reluctant and much less heartfelt 'No.' "Mike doesn't mind, but Davide..."

"Davide won't find out."

"He could have put a GPS tracker on your phone," Elijah says, quite seriously.

"Don't worry, I've taken my phone apart looking for one before." Antonin said, just as seriously.

"...I bet you have. But I'd feel so bad..." Elijah bites his lip. "I guess you don't have your cello. ...not that I just like you for your cello!"

"I'll play you like I play the cello, then you won't miss it." Antonin laughed softly, taking Elijah's hand.

Elijah shivers, unable to say no. He nods, gulping the rest of his coffee with a strange mix of delight and apprehension.

"Finished?

" Antonin gestured to Elijah's coffee. "We could go..."

"Yes, please." Elijah is on his feet and pointed toward the door before he's finished speaking, his cock pointing the way urgently.

Antonin followed happily. They found the nearest hotel, Antonin checked them in (with fake names, of course) and they went up to their room.

Elijah sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed, not really sure what to do from here, watching Antonin hungrily.

Antonin stripped off Elijah's clothes, tossing them on the floor. He pulled the boy off the bed and sat him in front of the bed. Antonin sat, moving the boy into his arms, held between his knees just like a cello. He gently stroked Elijah's throat, smiling.

Elijah sighs, relaxing muscles he hadn't known were tense. He closes his eyes, feeling the music on his skin, forgetting all about Davide and everything else.

Antonin stroked the boy's abdomen as if he had a bow, playing his favorite Sonata over the soft pale skin. He hummed softly, not sure if Elijah would be able to hear the music without his humming.

Rocking slowly from side to side in the grasp of Antonin's legs, Elijah whispers, "Would you hum on my neck?"

Antonin obliged him, pressing his lips to Elijah's neck and continuing to hum, fingers moving over the boy's neck.

Elijah gasps, breathing in time to the music. "It feels like my first time," he murmurs. "It's so good." He's not sure if he's going to cum, or if this is something else, only that he doesn't want it to stop.

Antonin's bow hand moved down to Elijah's cock, stroking in time to what would be his bows.

"Ohmygod," Elijah breaths, hands gripping the hotel's worn carpet as he struggles not to cum right there. He's never thought of himself as particularly kinky, but this...

Antonin's callused hands ran down his chest to hit the high notes at the climax of the song, his bow hand speeding up.

Antonin's rough fingers feel just as good on his cock as Elijah had imagined, and he finds himself thrusting into the bow hand, breath coming more and more raggedly.

Antonin held the last note, knees tightening around Elijah at the end of the song. He was nearly breathless himself.

Feeling the knees tighten around his body, Elijah frees one hand from its death-grip on the carpet and reaches around to grasp Antonin's cock. Normally this would be a very uncomfortable position, but he's close enough that he hardly notices.

Antonin groans, tightening his grip on Elijah's cock and stroking madly. The song was over, but he wants Elijah to cum.

Stroking as best he can with his arm twisted behind him, Elijah cums with a gasp. He's almost instantly embarrassed about making such a mess on the hotel floor, but he nestles against Antonin's legs, breathing heavily.

Antonin undoes his pants, turning Elijah around to 'suggest' oral sex.

Elijah's mouth is open almost before he realizes what's being offered, and he's soon balls-to-the-throat deep, making little ecstatic noises. After a moment, smiling with his eyes, he hums the sonata more or less accurately.

Antonin's eyes roll back in his head and he groans along happily, his fingers tangled in Elijah's soft curls.

Elijah plants a hand on either side of Antonin's thighs, loving the feeling of having his hair gently tugged and the cock in his mouth.

"Fuck yes..."

Encouraged, Elijah begins moving his head, moaning around his mouthful each time he's extended as far as he can go and the fingers pull at his hair.

Antoine pulls him up, fishing lube out of his pocket before shimmying out of his pants and pulling Elijah up into his lap. He lubes up his cock. "Want to ride me?"

Elijah nods, trying not to dive into Antonin's lap. He finds himself actually breathless at the sight of the cellist without pants, and he makes a mental note to worry about himself later.

Antonin quickly stretched and lubed Elijah, pulling him into position, then letting him take his time.

"Ohhh yeah." Elijah is able to adjust quite quickly--Mike is wider, although Elijah's never really been a size queen and doesn't really notice the difference.

Antonin's shape is somewhat different though, his cock is slightly curved and it hits a different spot in Elijah once he's completely sheathed the other man's cock.

Elijah is soon reduced to inarticulation by the curve, and he finds himself pressed against Antonin's chest with his arms wrapped around the other man, breathing on his shoulder.

“God…” Elijah murmured, being spooned by Antonin. “I don’t know what it was, but…that was…”

Antonin laughs and smiles knowingly, kissing the back of Elijah’s head. “You want to be a cello.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s it. I just didn’t know how to put it into words.”

“I knew.”

“It’s what I wanted from when I first saw you. …not that I just want you for your cello!”

“I know.”

“D’you think it’s possible?”

“Do I think what’s possible?” Antonin is quickly realizing something that Mike has known for quite some time--half of most conversations with Elijah take place in the boy’s head.

“…for me to be a cello. For real.”

“You mean so that people could hear you? I don’t know. Probably.” Antonin strokes Elijah’s hair thoughtfully. “If we hooked you up like an electric cello.”

Picturing electrodes going unpleasant places, Elijah flinches. “…wouldn’t that hurt?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t be electrocuted?”

Antonin frowns at the back of Elijah’s head, puzzled. “No. Why?”

“Oh, that’s good. …I have a few friends who are engineering students. And I know a couple artists.”

“I know some instrument makers, so between us we have a good mix. We should be able to come up with something.”

Elijah grins in the dark. “I guess you can’t stay for long…”

Antonin presses the smaller man closer to himself. “We can have a little nap, at least.”

“Mmm…I’m glad. Do you have a degree?”

“From university? Yes. In music. I’ve made instruments before,” Antonin said, casually.

Elijah is enthralled by this piece of information, and the fact that he’s being held by such an important and talented person. If his cock could get hard again so soon, it would. “Wow…”

“They were pretty shoddy, but I have done it.”

“I think you made another one tonight…oh god, that’s unbelievably cheesy, I’m sorry…!”

Antonin laughs, stroking a line down Elijah’s front. “That’s ok. I did. My best one yet.”

“…is Davide always so crazy?”

“Yes. He’s the first chair violinist. They’re always like that.”

Elijah frowns; he doesn’t want to seem ignorant, but he’s pretty sure that it’s unavoidable at this point. “…what does that mean?”

“He leads the violin section, and he’s second in command after the conductor, I suppose you could say.”

“Oh. I have a lot to learn about music, I guess. …although I guess instruments don’t really have to know about music, do they?”

Antonin continues tracing little patterns on Elijah’s skin, enjoying feeling the boy shiver and break out in goosebumps. “You’re a special instrument. I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”