#dancefloorarmy

Send '🍑' for my Muse to find Yours bent over something with their ass on display

a rare breeze has blown oliver’s papers from the table and he’s hustling to get them all picked up before they’re blown off to the sea. the breeze is light, so elio’s not too worried about them being lost forever, or else he’d be helping. no, what he’s far more interested in is the sight of oliver bent over picking up his papers. he’d let him know EXACTLY how he felt about it if his parents weren’t around. he’ll have to let him know later. he glances around a moment before going over to bend beside oliver to speak quietly next to his ear. 

@dancefloorarmy

Elio read it over to him in Italian, when Oliver looked at him with incredulity, he said it to him in French, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Once he knew Oliver had grown impatient enough to amuse him, he finally translated it into English. 

he doesn’t even recognize the day when it arrives. he’s already getting up to put swim trunks on when he notices oliver still lounging in the bed, as if waiting for something. there’s a slight confused smirk on elio’s lips as he tilts his head. 

elio:  you don’t have to tell me twice.

send one to see how my muse reacts  /  rough ( some nsfw ) edition.[ press ] to roughly push my muse against the wall.

there’s a sharp breath and a grunt as he’s pushed up against the wall, though he can’t help the smirk that’s tugging at his lips. there’s something... deeply erotic about the occasional roughness oliver displays. it’s rare. usually he’s so gentle, so... IN CONTROL. so it’s satisfying when there’s times like these that he just seems unable to help himself. 

It had been Elio’s first time in this night club. The air smelled of sweat, alcohol, and smoke. His friends had gone off to the dance floor while he continued to nurse his drink. He had been perfectly fine by himself. More than anything, he enjoyed spending time alone but for some reason or other, he had been dragged to this place when he was content to be at home reading. However, the promise of liquor lured him in. 

A good half hour later, he felt harrassed by this man who had the nerve to talk him of all people. Couldn’t he see he was not interested in hooking up with anyone tonight? But the man continued to the point where Elio felt the need to raise his voice.

“I said no!”

Beautiful? He?

A tiny boy, all limbs and bones, barely able to hold on to Oliver, barely able to hold on to his beloved’s heart, unable to keep it with him forever in a treasure chest, in the hopes that when he leaves, Elio could perhaps hear it beating, always beating, for him.

If Oliver saw any beauty in him it is only because Oliver’s own beauty cast a glow around him, enveloping every pore, every cell, every molecule, every fiber of his being until there was no Elio left, only Oliver.

Until that is all Elio wanted, to be pierced by Oliver’s beauty, to drink it up like sweet nectar of the gods, until he too can arise from the ocean like Aphrodite in her conch shell, glowing with his iridescent beauty. A beauty that would never fade.

“You’re just saying that,” he played coy, even as they laid in bed together in post coitus bliss.