[Whether that gasp is the result of the progressive stretch of Rude's cock pushing its way inside him or the attention to the sensitive nubs on his chest is impossible to say; maybe it's both. It's surprisingly erotic, too, to hear his title invoked during sex — particularly from one of his Turks, his Turks, who by his own cunning he'd usurped from his father's control and brought under his own instead. Taking the company had been different; even now it still has too many of his father's fingerprints all over it. But the Turks are his, by their own choice and vow. He didn't just take them; they threw their lot in with him.
He doesn't make it a habit of thinking about dear old Dad during sex, for understandable reasons. Still, the thought of the old man's face if he knew his precious son was taking a Turk's cock like a starving man devouring a meal — damn, if that isn't a nice one.
He lets out a slow breath, making himself relax as he slides further, letting Rude's attentions help distract him from the impulse to tense up. His legs are spread wide and he's sacrificing leverage for the sake of getting lower but fuck, does it ever feel good.]
[Rude freezes at those words. There's a jolt of something unfamiliar through his body. Being commended for a job well done at work and this kind of praise are two separate beasts, and this one is new--but he doesn't hate it.
As if he could hate anything while Rufus works on the challenge of taking his cock. Rufus could tell him he was a depraved perverted piece of shit and Rude might still respond positively right now. He groans into Rufus' chest and as he sinks lower his mouth ends up at the blond's neck, kisses wet for each chance to taste his skin.
Eventually Rufus bottoms out and Rude's hands knead at the thickest part of his ass, fingers accidentally hitting the keys of the piano whenever his hands move to different positions on Rufus' body.]
Will this be too much for you? [He means it earnestly. Perhaps the challenge was getting this far, so he wants to leave Rufus with an out if he wants to take it. But his hips grind up into the heat of him, wanting to drive himself deeper but he's certain there's no where left to go. He has enough leverage with his feed against the floor to make Rufus see stars if he wants, but for now he wants him to adjust--and in the meanwhile tries subtle shifts of his hips to discover the best angle to find the right spot.]
[It's half reassurance for Rude's sake and half his own purring enjoyment of the way he's getting used to the feeling of being so thoroughly filled. The duality of Rude's mouth soothing against his neck pairs well with the nearly overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching him out, keeping his focus divided and rebounding between the two separate stimuli.
And he makes good on his word. When Rufus decides he's ready, perhaps earlier than anyone might have expected him to be, he sets his hands firmly on Rude's shoulders and pulls himself up before sinking down again, adding the breathless delight of friction to the mix. And so what if his plans of teasing have started to slant to the wayside, when his current predicament is just as good if not better: his lovely, dutiful Turk ready and willing to serve, making himself as much a toy as a partner for Rufus to find pleasure from.
Shiva, his cock is big. It's big and it's good and Rufus is already wound up from the power rush of it all, so much so that he doesn't see much reason to hold himself back for the sake of appearances or anything else.
It doesn't take long for him to come — and he certainly intends to do it more than once, as though his orgasms are separate dishes in a multi-course meal he intends to savor for hours — thrillingly caught between grinding his cock against Rude's body and working his own prostate with Rude's. This first one is an understated affair, punctuated only by a quiet gasp and a tremor and a hot spill of cum, but Rude is more than close enough to feel all of it against his body and beneath his hands.]
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[Whether that gasp is the result of the progressive stretch of Rude's cock pushing its way inside him or the attention to the sensitive nubs on his chest is impossible to say; maybe it's both. It's surprisingly erotic, too, to hear his title invoked during sex — particularly from one of his Turks, his Turks, who by his own cunning he'd usurped from his father's control and brought under his own instead. Taking the company had been different; even now it still has too many of his father's fingerprints all over it. But the Turks are his, by their own choice and vow. He didn't just take them; they threw their lot in with him.
He doesn't make it a habit of thinking about dear old Dad during sex, for understandable reasons. Still, the thought of the old man's face if he knew his precious son was taking a Turk's cock like a starving man devouring a meal — damn, if that isn't a nice one.
He lets out a slow breath, making himself relax as he slides further, letting Rude's attentions help distract him from the impulse to tense up. His legs are spread wide and he's sacrificing leverage for the sake of getting lower but fuck, does it ever feel good.]
Taking such good care of me, Rude...
no subject
As if he could hate anything while Rufus works on the challenge of taking his cock. Rufus could tell him he was a depraved perverted piece of shit and Rude might still respond positively right now. He groans into Rufus' chest and as he sinks lower his mouth ends up at the blond's neck, kisses wet for each chance to taste his skin.
Eventually Rufus bottoms out and Rude's hands knead at the thickest part of his ass, fingers accidentally hitting the keys of the piano whenever his hands move to different positions on Rufus' body.]
Will this be too much for you? [He means it earnestly. Perhaps the challenge was getting this far, so he wants to leave Rufus with an out if he wants to take it. But his hips grind up into the heat of him, wanting to drive himself deeper but he's certain there's no where left to go. He has enough leverage with his feed against the floor to make Rufus see stars if he wants, but for now he wants him to adjust--and in the meanwhile tries subtle shifts of his hips to discover the best angle to find the right spot.]
no subject
[It's half reassurance for Rude's sake and half his own purring enjoyment of the way he's getting used to the feeling of being so thoroughly filled. The duality of Rude's mouth soothing against his neck pairs well with the nearly overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching him out, keeping his focus divided and rebounding between the two separate stimuli.
And he makes good on his word. When Rufus decides he's ready, perhaps earlier than anyone might have expected him to be, he sets his hands firmly on Rude's shoulders and pulls himself up before sinking down again, adding the breathless delight of friction to the mix. And so what if his plans of teasing have started to slant to the wayside, when his current predicament is just as good if not better: his lovely, dutiful Turk ready and willing to serve, making himself as much a toy as a partner for Rufus to find pleasure from.
Shiva, his cock is big. It's big and it's good and Rufus is already wound up from the power rush of it all, so much so that he doesn't see much reason to hold himself back for the sake of appearances or anything else.
It doesn't take long for him to come — and he certainly intends to do it more than once, as though his orgasms are separate dishes in a multi-course meal he intends to savor for hours — thrillingly caught between grinding his cock against Rude's body and working his own prostate with Rude's. This first one is an understated affair, punctuated only by a quiet gasp and a tremor and a hot spill of cum, but Rude is more than close enough to feel all of it against his body and beneath his hands.]