dalishious | - IC CONTACT -

Merrick usually isn't one to obey, especially not as quickly as he climbs off Metaari's lap and gets on his hands and knees right then. He doesn't feel like it's demeaning though, nor does his pride take over. He just feels safe, like he's in a place where he doesn't have to lash out and rail against the world like he usually does. It's strange, alarming, but he doesn't question it, too engaged in the moment.

He's still throbbing between his legs, even worse now that he'd had those brief moments of touch. He pushes against his own hand whenever he's able as he works off his pants, peeling them off his hips and down his thighs.

Then his hands press against the mattress, fingers curling into the sheets. Presenting himself. Utterly vulnerable, a state he has to try not to fight against.

A moan escapes Metaari as he watches, groping himself now as Merrick shifts and gets himself settled. The trust and willingness shown alone is enough to get him going, and he has to resist the urge to just pounce right as the opportunity presents itself.

He moves to stand instead, hastily undoing the ties to his own trousers so that they can pool on the floor at his feet. Once he's undressed he gets to his knees on the bed behind Merrick and leans over him, a large, warm presence above him. He bends down and places a kiss against the back of Merrick's neck before starting to trail downward, placing hot kisses through the fabric of the shirt that still remains. When he gets to the base of Merrick's spine he pulls back so that he can move down further, bypassing what he wants to get to what he needs.

Metaari lays himself on his back and pulls Merrick down a little toward him, keeping the elf's legs splayed open on either side of his head, so that he can place hot, wet kisses to his inner thighs--and maybe, maybe, occasionally flicking a teasing tongue up to caress the balls and heated erection dangling above him.

The kisses, warm and lavished over his body, are met with low purrs rolling in Merrick's throat. It's wonderful to be kissed in such a way, that makes him feel cherished, secure in his own skin in a way he never feels otherwise. And then--

"Creators!"

Just like last time, Metaari stuns Merrick by doing things that have never even occurred to him before. He grits his teeth and stifles a whimper, one hand darting up to clutch the headboard as Metaari's mouth moves over his skin. His hips move, trying to feel more, get more, as he squirms above Metaari.

Metaari chuckles at the noise, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and he brings his hands up to hold Merrick's hips firmly in place while he lavishes his attention. He places kiss after kiss against soft thighs, occasionally opening his mouth just a little bit wider to lightly bite at them, until he's certain that they're sufficiently wet for what he needs. With one last kiss he crawls out from underneath Merrick and rises again, this time positioning himself behind him.

He can't help himself; he has to take a moment to lightly tease Merrick's entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing the tip against his opening. Remember this? A faint grin spreads across Metaari's face before he finally aims himself lower, pressing on the outside of Merrick's thighs to push them together and around his warm girth. He sighs at the contact, glad for some sort of pressure finally, and he gives an experimental little thrust forward.

It feels--strange. Metaari's cock is hot and thick between his thighs, its girth pushing them apart, and Merrick still feels the gentle push of the tip against his entrance even when it's gone. He almost says 'fuck it' and lets Metaari push inside him, but he abstains, focusing instead on the new sensations he's experiencing.

He holds still for the time being, allowing Metaari to manipulate his body to find just the right fit. One hand idly strokes his cock, smearing pre-cum over its tip, and he hums softly in contentment.

Edited 2015-12-29 06:40 (UTC)

His hands push Merrick's thighs together just a little bit more, for as much tightness as he's going to get from the soft skin, before he lets his hands move a little more. One goes to Merrick's hip to hold on to him and the other slides under the elf's body and slides up over his torso, calloused fingertips teasing his nipples.

Metaari hums low in his throat as he gives another slow thrust, pressing his hips forward and flush against Merrick's body before he pulls back. Another, and one more, and finally Metaari settles into a slow but steady rhythm. It feels better than he thought it would and he chuckles quietly. He bends his body over Merrick's back in order to place a kiss against his neck again before murmuring, "You're beautiful, you know? Absolutely beautiful."

The compliment actually makes Merrick let out the softest of gasps, as he stiffens even more inside his hand. His body responds, but he himself can't quite handle it. It feels so confoundingly good to be the recipient of those words-- not Cyril. Him. It makes him start to move his hips a little, really get into what they're doing.

His vocal response, however, is full of doubt. "He says with a full view of my ass," he snarks back.

Metaari laughs at that and slips his hand from Merrick's hip to grasp the ass in question, giving it a good squeeze under his hand. "Well, it'd be a lie if I disagreed." His hips snap forward harder, once, before settling back into their rhythm again. "But it takes more than a nice ass to get me to remember someone night after night."

He sits back up again, staring down at the body beneath him, and he reaches forward to bunch the fabric of Merrick's top under his hand, using it as something close to a handle. His other grips the elf's hip, hard enough he'll probably be bruised in the morning, skin patterned with finger-shaped purple marks, before he starts to lay in to him harder.

Merrick just straight up groans in response to that, his own fingers clutching the bedsheets even harder. His other hand starts jerking himself faster, no longer able to hold back, his climax beginning to build.

He's more vocal than last time. They don't have to be quiet now, so Merrick lets himself pant and whine as he squirms on the bed, as his body is held and maneuvered and positioned just so.

"I want--" He has to struggle to find words. "I wish you could fuck me..."

The words make him groan, make him want to slip out from between Merrick's legs so that he can bury himself in what he really wants. The restraint he shows in the moment surprises even him, and his grip on Merrick's hips grows ever tighter as he continues to fight down the urge to give in. "Don't tell me that," he growls out, his voice strained. "Don't tease me with what I so desperately want."

He pushed a hand against the space between Merrick's shoulder blades and pushed down, wanting to get him to rest his upper body against the bed. Maybe this way--well, it'd be easier to pretend. "The next time I see you," he said, his hips starting to move in earnest, sliding in and out between Merrick's thighs, "you won't move for a week, prior engagements be damned."

It only takes the barest bit of force for the huge hand to push Merrick face down, and he offers no resistance. His eyes close and his mouth falls open, sweaty curls of unkempt hair falling over his face, and he can't remember the last time he's been so fucking turned on. It's just his hand pleasuring him, but it's as if the words themselves are what's really getting him off.

It's those last ones--the idea that they'll see one another again, and what Metaari promised if they do--end up bringing him off. He comes hard, and it's a short and brutal thing, causing a sharp gasp and staggering breaths as he spills on the sheet below.

He's a bit more pliant now, but he can keep his thighs tight, can try to bring Metaari to at least as satisfying a climax as his own.

Edited 2016-01-01 05:09 (UTC)

It's the tension, the sensation of Merrick losing himself to the moment, that makes Metaari come undone. He snarls low and deep and practically lifts Merrick off of the bed with the force of his movements. A few more wild snaps of his hips and his own orgasm breaks like a twig, the pleasure crashing over him in powerful waves. His own release joins Merrick's, makes the bed beneath them a mess (he'll have to launder it in the morning for the old woman; he wouldn't wish this on her) and he hangs still in the moment before his body finally releases.

He's careful to shift to the side before he collapses back down onto the bed on his side, his back pressed against the wall once more, and his breath coming in quick, short gasps. One hand rests lightly on Merrick's back, drawing lazy circles on fabric, as he tries to still the thrumming in his chest.

It takes a little while for Merrick's brain to resume functioning, and for him to regain control of his limbs-- but once he does, he makes a noise of disgust and rolls over so he can press himself against Metaari.

"I am not sleeping in all of that," he grumbles.

A faint, sleepy grumble rumbles through Metaari at the complaint and he lets out a faint breath. He wraps his arms around Merrick's body and rolls until he's flat on his back with the elf laid on top of him. There's some awkward shifting after that as Metaari works the top layer of bedding is out of the way from under his body, and he finally settles down once it's on the floor.

His hands rest lightly on Merrick's back, eyes closed as his body starts to give in to rest. "Better?"

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