#probably whatever

Emil:

Emil has stuffed two fingers into his own mouth and isbiting down just to contain himself. His cheeks are bright red and his body isslick with sweat, chest heaving and hair in an utter mess as he pretends he’ssimply too proud to make a sound. If someone could catch on fire just byblushing, he would have been set aflame ages ago, his eyes scrunching shut witha pitiful little whimper. With a dissatisfied little hum, you pry his handsfrom his mouth, pinning them to the pillow beside him. As Emil slowly opens hiseyes to stare unsteadily up at you, his body quivers uncontrollably. He’s sopent up, so utterly fractured, that he can barely do anything but silentlyplead for you to just fucking touch him, but that’s not what you’relooking for. If silence was all you needed to do anything, you would be longsince finished here.

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg, my love,” Youmurmur silkily, watching as a stray bead of sweat rolls down the side of Emil’sflushed neck. A soft sigh escapes past his lips as you slowly run a hand downhis chest, stopping just short of the straining length already leaking pre atthe tip. His freckled chest jumps with the effort it takes just to let out asmall whine, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch with utmost adoration. Ashe sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, Emil can do nothing but submit to anytouch you deem him worthy of, his pupils dilated as he watches you in return.

Oh, you could give him what he wants at any point in time,but you’re not sure you want that. It would be like submitting to him, in a way.Though you know Emil would never hold that against you, the young prince alwayshas this way of reminding you of who he is. This way, at least, you still havecontrol. So long as he begs and pleads for it, you have control. And secretly,though he’ll never admit it in polite company, he loves letting go like that.

Emil finally looks away after a long moment, exposing hispale neck and the blossoming bruises you’d sucked into his skin long beforenow. Closing his eyes, some tears well and fall across the bridge of his nose.Is it horrible of you to enjoy it when he’s simply so pent up he has to startcrying? Probably, but you don’t care. He’s a beautiful man, as he squirms andpants and fights against all his sensibilities that tell him to submit.He’s not a proud man, and you’ve only ever seen him take charge in any capacitywhen he’s angry, but the piled-on expectations of a prince who might one dayrule again weighs him down day in and day out. And yet…

“… Please…” Emil whispers through a sob, his entire bodyshaking as his composure shatters completely to leave the pieces of his conceitscattered and broken in his mind. Another shudder, another sob, and finally theman looks at you, eyes wide and going red as tears smear across his cheeks andstick his long lashes together. Though you want nothing more than to obey byhis wishes, and your shared desire is palpable, it’s not enough. Not for you.

“What do you want?” You ask, tenderly cupping his cheek towipe away some of the tears. He’s so pretty, almost boyish you suppose, but thelong, jagged scar that mars his face tells the tale of someone who has been aman for years. Emil leans into your touch, mouth open as he pants just tocontrol himself for but a moment longer. You call his name, drawing hisattention back to you. He stares, sucking at his bottom lip until he can’t takeit any longer.

“P-please… please—gods—” Maybe it shouldn’t be so funny thathe’s speaking of the gods in this situation, but you simply don’t have thepatience to laugh. Not as you watch Emil as he struggles to catch even theslightest hint of a breath. His voice is ragged and hoarse when he finallymanages to speak again, “Please just… t-touch me, fuck me, I don’t care just…”But then he covers his mouth again and scrunches his eyes shut, and somethingtells you that’s all you’ll get out of him until you obey. You suppose thatwill have to do.

Ardwen:

The taste of sweat on your lips is intoxicating as you kissup the spine of the man underneath you, nipping at the back of his neck onlyjust exposed amidst the silver locks that halo his head buried into the pillow.His soft breaths as he pushes back against your hips with each excruciatinglyslow thrust hitch, occasionally drawing a low whine from the back of his throat.Entire body quivering, he turns an impatient pout on you, fingers curling intofists in the bedsheets.

“Fuck,” You hear Ardwen’s lips part in a low whine, pushingback against you with all the eagerness of a His body quivers, harsh breathswracking his thin chest with each movement he makes in tandem with your own.Biting at your bottom lip to suppress your own groan as you feel him clencharound you, you almost grip his hips hard enough to leave marks. Drawing your gazeaway just momentarily to stare out the partially drawn curtains, you’re acutelyaware of the time of day it is as the midday sun filters in through the window.You’re certain that there would be customers and staff alike bustling aroundthe inn now. If anyone heard you… well, it’s certainly a salacious thought.Even still, you can’t stop, the man below you simply too irresistible to bear.

Maybe there’s nothing inherently invigorating about that;maybe you shouldn’t be so excited about the prospect of being found out in themidst of your passions, but somewhere down in the darkest recesses of yourdesire you can’t think of anything hotter. Not to mention, you love it when Ardwenscreams.

You mean, he started it. Ardwen always starts it, and it’salways up you to end it. That morning, you weren’t entirely sure you had it inyourself, however, to stop it before it fully began. And you suppose the manhad counted on that. Oh, he’s proud beyond measure, and would never be caughtdead begging for you, but you’ve certainly found your own ways aroundthat. Turns out, gratification is rather easy to achieve if you know all thebuttons to push. You know just as well that the walls are paper-thin in theinn, and you’ve been on both sides of Ardwen’s particular appetites. He’s neverbeen fond of keeping himself quiet, and yet today it seems he’s intent on doingjust that.

The poncy bastard.

With a growl, you can’t help but latch onto the nape ofArdwen’s neck, your grip tightening around his middle. All that escapes is a seriesof triumphant trills that quickly dissolve into helpless little mewls as youput the full of your weight on top of him and pointedly up the pace of your rollinghips. If it weren’t for Ardwen himself, you firmly believe you probably wouldhave given up by now; but many trysts with the man have made you patient beyondyour years.

“Ardwen…” You murmur in his ear, a low growl that rumbles inyour chest as you give him a few stiff strokes. His name is a promise betweenthe two of you, something you only ever murmur in the heat of the moment whenyou know he’s close to breaking. He shivers, his breath hitching, and thoughyou can’t see his face, you know Ardwen is biting his tongue. “You godsdamnedprick,” You can’t help but chuckle, gripping at his thighs and avoiding hisneedy cock altogether. He’s above begging, above pleading, but Ardwen hasnever, not in a million years, been above ordering you around. You suppose it’syour own sort of way of knowing that he’s reached his breaking point.

“Oh—” It’s half moan, half sarcastic quip, “Yes, it’s sohot when you call me a—” An overly-loud whine escapes Ardwen’s lips as you givehim a particularly hard bite, his entire body shuddering, mind seeming toforget about his words altogether as he takes a few moments to gather up hisbrain from off the floor. For a few blissful seconds, all he can manage arebreathy gasps. Finally, after you’ve already began to celebrate, he breaks, “Gods,what do you want?” His words drip with desperation, and you can feel the tightnesscurling inside his entire body as he quivers at the stimulation. Good, yougrin, chuckling lowly in his ear before nipping at the tip.