[ GRIND ]: sender grinds on receiver's thigh + “ i’m not wearing any underwear right now. “ — maric being a menace to loghain unfortunately !
A PART OF HIM FEELS HOLLOWED, and empty, SINCE HE'S SETTLED INTO THE CASTLE WALLS... gwaren is isolated, surely... though such has been far from the problem as of late. in-fact part of him, normally, might have been soothed by such a fact. able to hide from his newfound fame as a so-called hero, and the duties of a teyrnir he was handed by his friend. ever a man to diminish the weight of his contributions within his own mind, of course. for to mac tir there were no heroes, only men capable of making hard decisions and having the confidence to follow through.. he had done nothing that deserved such a gift, in his mind. not even his losses. for there were plenty of familys, of outlaws, whom received no such boon for the wrongs that were done to him. THE INJUSTICES LAID BURNT BEHIND HIS EYELIDS, painting his dreams at times more-so than that which befell his own family.. yet, he thinks this despite his knowledge that maric desired for loghain to be respected as he thought he deserved ... for saving his life, mainly. LOGHAIN COULDN'T HELP BUT BELIEVE THAT MARIC SIMPLY DESIRED TO KEEP HIM WITH HIM WHEREVER HE WENT. hard-pressed to be parted, and enough to insist of his supposed 'nobility' at the first sign of resistance to his presence. it certainly made the burden of decision a little easier to bear.
HOWEVER MARIC'S ABSENCE HAS BEEN NAUGHT BUT DIFFICULT SINCE MOVING IN.
when he'd lived outside in the tent, surrounded by the glittering ocean and the forest alike, he had more than enough to occupy his mind with, he supposed. it was familiar, and perhaps fitting, at least. for gwaren was the first of ferelden land to be reclaimed from the occupation despite the initial brevity. AND THERE WAS WELL ENOUGH TO DO EVEN DURING THE RECONSTRUCTION PROCESS. HOWEVER, he had missed maric terribly. and now, the scarcely furnished castle of stone showed his practicality and awkward transition more clearly than even his refusal to live in a real home. such luxury he had not known since the farmhold. yet, as if he could hear the call of loghain's starving belly whistling with grief, here came his smiling salvation to see how progress fared with the castle.
IT HADN'T TAKEN THEM LONG TO RETIRE. clearly they both weren't taking the distance very well, much to loghain's relief, and maric was quick to get handsy once they were behind closed doors. there was a desk in his bedroom, small and practical, however now loghain was planted on the side of his modestly made bed, half alpine as he was pushed back with maric's face buried into his throat.. fingers clung to the fabric of his clothing, and straddling one of his legs....
and as the king's hips curl and drag themselves clothed, debasing himself along loghain's thigh... the pale skin being mouthed at and sucked into his moist, hot mouth can only force loghain to grit his teeth and furrow his brows in a bid to keep composure.. his fingers are woven, fanning through golden strands as he gropes for a good hold upon them. rough in their slight tug, as though the sensations sending waves of heat to his lower extremities were simply becoming too much to bear... although the heel of his palm almost just as quickly shoves maric more insistently. his chest rising and falling, laboured, while his knee opens up as though he thought such an act might relieve some sort of discomfort. chasing some part of maric's thigh with a rise of his hips, before a frustrated grunt bares his teeth.
and, as if the blighted royal couldn't get any more insistent..
“ i’m not wearing any underwear right now. “
"maker preserve me," the sound is almost exasperated, tinged as though he were annoyed.. however it only makes his hardening cock twitch and pang with damnable heat, to know that he had been planning this the whole time! that he had prepared to drive him half mad, and knowing how easy it would be to do it. and now all loghain could think about was that which was dragging along him now, and how badly he wanted his mouth over it... wanting to see how much he'd worked himself up, with minimal effort from the tactician himself.... he could think of no better way to show his reverence.
instead, loghain can't help but to take the liberty of using his leverage upon maric's hair to wrench the king's head back and bare his own throat. neck arches, as loghain looks at him like prey. eyes narrowed, with the beginnings of a small, self-satisfied smirk adorning him. "i've missed you." he growls, his voice deep and thick, ALMOST ANGRY, UNLESS YOU KNEW BETTER. pulling maric's mouth against his insistently, and with open mouths clashing teeth and tongues like swordplay. even so much as bearing loghain's sureness, and maric's clumsiness. an awkward yet glorious first meeting of their lips that form properly the longer they mouth one another.
his tongue roams maric's familiar mouth without a thought, and openly relishes in the taste. momentarily distracted from his own needs.
his huffs and grunts chuffed against maric's face, and are swallowed by the other's tongue. EVERY OUNCE OF LOGHAIN'S DESIRE FOR HIM, HOW MUCH HE'S TRULY MISSED HIM, POURED INTO EVERY STROKE OF HIS TONGUE, AND THE DEMANDING CURL OF HIS FINGERS OVER THE UNDERSIDE OF MARIC'S THIGH... that which he tugs forcibly over his other leg, so that he was straddling his groin instead.
maric fumbles over slightly from the force, before the soldier takes hold of both of his hips. making a primal sounding growl into maric's ear, which his face was now aligned with, as he unabashedly rolls his hard, clothed cock up and into the hips previously intent on torturing him. another gravelly and relieved noise accompanying his fingers guiding maric roughly. "you'll be the death of me, won't you? damn you."
@almaric. less cringy edition.
