[ The fact that he doesn't feel any stronger after swallowing this guy's ... seed should be worrisome, but the rational part of his mind has drifted too far, overpowered by the joined emotions of desire and need. His pupils still dilated, Achilles meets the single eye peering up at him from over a shoulder, allowing his own gaze to crease as he grins. ]
It's my turn. Forgetting about me already? [ He reaches between his legs from behind, palming up to his balls and softened cock so he can squeeze. To emphasize his point, he shifts his pelvis, pressing his hard, clothed cock up against his leg.
He's light-headed, drunk with arousal and from the emotional effects of whatever drug Cain ingested. It's almost nice, since he began this night stressed and agitated. The tension has left his body, leaving him open to sorely needed self-indulgence. ]
[It's not like he could forget if he tried. Achilles' body is heavy and firm at his back, radiating heat compared to the chill of air on bare skin. That grin is bright in the shadow - it looks good on the other man's face, self-assured, attractive. Cain finds himself studying it over the arch of his own shoulder as long as he can, until a hand takes hold of him between the spread of legs. He's still sensitive, so the touch makes him jolt, muscles of strong thighs clenching closed over Achilles' wrist.
He can feel the rigid line of his cock through the thin material of fabric. It makes Cain swallow, throat dry. He'd asked this guy to fuck him. Is that what he's planning to do, after all? Through the haze of drugs and affection comes a twinge of - exhilaration, and sharply bladed fear.]
[ Achilles relishes in the self-satisfaction of making this guy squirm beneath him as he fondles his spent cock, fitting what he can into his palm to give him another firmer squeeze as he positions himself. The way his thighs clench around his wrist is titillating, making his cock swell with arousal. Cain's legs are forked open with Achilles' knee nudging against his thigh and forcing him to shift.
He withdraws his hand, groping at his ass before he's reaching down to shove at pants to free his erection. There are more couples coming into the room, shuffling in and heading to separate corners to engage in their own play. Some even watch as Achilles strokes himself, stopping only when he's full-mast and slightly wet with his own precome. ]
Hold still. Squeeze your legs together when I tell you to. [ Hips lower, and Cain will feel his cock probe between his thighs, dragging against his ass until the head nudges against his balls. ]
[Cain hears and sees no one else but the man behind him, taking up the entire length of his back with an imposing presence, strong hands arranging him as they choose. In a clear-headed state, he would've put up more of a fight - lashed out, snarled, demanded action or inaction - but he's too hazy and spent and consumed by the intensity of feeling. Lax under Achilles' guidance, thighs loose as he's nudged, the tip of a cock slippery along the furrow of his ass and that crevice just below.
At once his face flushes with heat, realizing what is intended, torn between acute humiliation and desire. Submissive, somehow, to let some guy fuck his thighs. Like his body is being used for another's pleasure. And even drug-addled, Cain recognizes the merit of that, but... it still causes his cheek to tuck into the bend of an elbow and eyes to close against the sparkling UV candlelight of the room.]
Hurry up.
[Shivering, nerves frayed from stimulation, at least he has it in him to be bossy even if it sounds like a whimpering plea. He rubs hips back, in order to grind against Achilles' pelvic bone and wedge his cock further between the clench of thighs.]
[ It isn't quite as nice as being encased by the warm, soft walls of a woman (or a man for that matter), but the younger's thighs provide pressure to his neglected cock. A sigh rushes out of his nose as Cain rocks back against his lap, and he answers it with a sudden thrust forward. His cock slides through the tight gap between, cock throbbing and hot against his skin. Cain will feel how thick he is by way of clamping around the girth of his dick, feel the bulbous, swollen head poke out against his balls before the other man is drawing his hips back and snapping them into him again. The friction is like fire licking every nerve-ending in his dick, but it's all worth it just to feel another body jerk against every rocking motion of his hips. Eventually, the ensuing strokes roll smoother as beads of precome stick to the insides of Cain's thighs.
They're simulating sex, and to any onlookers it might look like the real thing. Achilles makes a guttural noise that is weighted in his chest, voice slightly raw from having had his throat thoroughly fucked by the other man.
A wide hand comes up to the back of Cain's neck, fingers outstretched as they press into his skin and squeeze. There's no threat in the gesture, but the direction is quite clear; he isn't going anywhere until he's finished. With Cain's head pinned to the floor, Achilles can adjust the angle of his hips, lift ing his ass higher into his lap so that his cock is riding right up against the hole.
Cain can't read his thoughts or even be able to pick up on the euphoria bleeding into whatever he's feeling right now. ]
[In some distant reach of his memory, Cain recalls lying facedown on a cot in the closet-of-a-bedroom he shared with someone else, someone whose pale features are like an opaque mirror in his mind, and the difference now is stark. The hands on him aren't gentle and unsure, they command strength as he's held down and directed into the best position to cradle that hard cock between the tight clench of thighs. He doesn't know this person, he doesn't even know where he is, and maybe seeking sex with a stranger around other strangers is exactly where he was going to end up tonight even without the aid of drugs. It scratches the itch, sates a void of loneliness, makes him feel the keen dichotomy of safety and loneliness, escape and affection.
So much affection, bleeding out of him in waves as Achilles slides his dick into that soft shelter between legs, tucked below the crease of his ass in that warm furrow just behind balls. A slip with the wrong angle could drive Achilles hard against his hole - that threat (and temptation) has his throat closed around a low, breathy whimper.
There's not much he can do in this state except take it until the other man is done using him. The hand on the back of his neck is a burning brand, and it's almost degrading, except that Cain doesn't care. Maybe he'd like softer hands, and words in his ear, and reassurance - but then, maybe he wouldn't. He just wants to get fucked. This is good enough.]
[ If he had the time to, he would have preferred drawing this out, taking measures to gradually unwind this man and have him sprawled out afterwards, spent and sticky with come. Given the situation and the looming urgency of figuring out where the hell he's wound up now, he can only do as much as sating this desperate need that has been inflicted on him by way of a magic connection.
These are not thoughts he's entertains when he has his cock buried between the thighs of this stranger.
It's not enough, though. It never is. And once he's gotten to the point where his cock is painfully throbbing, he draws his hips back, slick from his own fluid that he had smeared against the inside of his legs and hole. He continues to pin Cain down with a single hand while he uses the other to reach down and grip himself. He squeezes with all the pressure that a pair of strong legs can't provide alone, and he starts to rapidly stroke himself from root to tip.
His breathing is erratic, giving away just how close he is as he jerks himself off to completion. ]
[Frustration burns in Cain at being pinned, but it mingles in with a surge of arousal, knowing there's little he can do to fight the hand at the back of his neck. He can't even fully turn to see what Achilles is doing - he can only feel it in the barest press of a body, staccato breath fluttering somewhere behind, a burst of warmth gusting across his skin. He's too aware of his own thighs, slick between from the mockery of fucking. And maybe it's better this won't escalate to penetration. Maybe that would be too much, in this state, an overstimulation he couldn't bear.
This is easier. Without facing the other man, some of that tethered emotional connection hardwired in by drugs is a little more muted.
Cain waits. He's expecting a more satisfying aftermath, because he's already missing the physical contact of bodies wrapped around each other, and he did like it better when he could see the man's features. Being turned aside and used like this... despite the burning of his face and the twitch of a spent cock, it feels disconnected.]
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no subject
It's my turn. Forgetting about me already? [ He reaches between his legs from behind, palming up to his balls and softened cock so he can squeeze. To emphasize his point, he shifts his pelvis, pressing his hard, clothed cock up against his leg.
He's light-headed, drunk with arousal and from the emotional effects of whatever drug Cain ingested. It's almost nice, since he began this night stressed and agitated. The tension has left his body, leaving him open to sorely needed self-indulgence. ]
no subject
He can feel the rigid line of his cock through the thin material of fabric. It makes Cain swallow, throat dry. He'd asked this guy to fuck him. Is that what he's planning to do, after all? Through the haze of drugs and affection comes a twinge of - exhilaration, and sharply bladed fear.]
no subject
He withdraws his hand, groping at his ass before he's reaching down to shove at pants to free his erection. There are more couples coming into the room, shuffling in and heading to separate corners to engage in their own play. Some even watch as Achilles strokes himself, stopping only when he's full-mast and slightly wet with his own precome. ]
Hold still. Squeeze your legs together when I tell you to. [ Hips lower, and Cain will feel his cock probe between his thighs, dragging against his ass until the head nudges against his balls. ]
no subject
At once his face flushes with heat, realizing what is intended, torn between acute humiliation and desire. Submissive, somehow, to let some guy fuck his thighs. Like his body is being used for another's pleasure. And even drug-addled, Cain recognizes the merit of that, but... it still causes his cheek to tuck into the bend of an elbow and eyes to close against the sparkling UV candlelight of the room.]
Hurry up.
[Shivering, nerves frayed from stimulation, at least he has it in him to be bossy even if it sounds like a whimpering plea. He rubs hips back, in order to grind against Achilles' pelvic bone and wedge his cock further between the clench of thighs.]
no subject
They're simulating sex, and to any onlookers it might look like the real thing. Achilles makes a guttural noise that is weighted in his chest, voice slightly raw from having had his throat thoroughly fucked by the other man.
A wide hand comes up to the back of Cain's neck, fingers outstretched as they press into his skin and squeeze. There's no threat in the gesture, but the direction is quite clear; he isn't going anywhere until he's finished. With Cain's head pinned to the floor, Achilles can adjust the angle of his hips, lift ing his ass higher into his lap so that his cock is riding right up against the hole.
Cain can't read his thoughts or even be able to pick up on the euphoria bleeding into whatever he's feeling right now. ]
no subject
So much affection, bleeding out of him in waves as Achilles slides his dick into that soft shelter between legs, tucked below the crease of his ass in that warm furrow just behind balls. A slip with the wrong angle could drive Achilles hard against his hole - that threat (and temptation) has his throat closed around a low, breathy whimper.
There's not much he can do in this state except take it until the other man is done using him. The hand on the back of his neck is a burning brand, and it's almost degrading, except that Cain doesn't care. Maybe he'd like softer hands, and words in his ear, and reassurance - but then, maybe he wouldn't. He just wants to get fucked. This is good enough.]
no subject
These are not thoughts he's entertains when he has his cock buried between the thighs of this stranger.
It's not enough, though. It never is. And once he's gotten to the point where his cock is painfully throbbing, he draws his hips back, slick from his own fluid that he had smeared against the inside of his legs and hole. He continues to pin Cain down with a single hand while he uses the other to reach down and grip himself. He squeezes with all the pressure that a pair of strong legs can't provide alone, and he starts to rapidly stroke himself from root to tip.
His breathing is erratic, giving away just how close he is as he jerks himself off to completion. ]
no subject
This is easier. Without facing the other man, some of that tethered emotional connection hardwired in by drugs is a little more muted.
Cain waits. He's expecting a more satisfying aftermath, because he's already missing the physical contact of bodies wrapped around each other, and he did like it better when he could see the man's features. Being turned aside and used like this... despite the burning of his face and the twitch of a spent cock, it feels disconnected.]