renaissanceman | (no subject)

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granby

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Priestly's done this so many times now he could practically do it in his sleep, washing up the kitchen, putting pots and pans away, helping drunk patrons out the door and storing all the food. But there's one person he doesn't urge out the door at closing time, and it doesn't feel quite like business as usual, as familiar as all the tasks are.

"Looks like you closed the place down," he says as he hangs the last of the glasses. "Could probably serve you one more, if you like, since there are no actual, you know, liquor laws or anything."

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This should not get Priestly that hot, and yet it does. He kind of wants to just lick him right then, but that wouldn't do at all.

"You're gonna be so loud now they will hear you over in the village," says Priestly, pushing him roughly back against the wall and biting the back of his neck as he starts to push his fingers between John's bared cheeks.

He could shrug Priestly off if he wanted to, he knows that, but there's no way in hell that he wants to, right then. His cheek hits the wall and he bites his lip over a groan and, stubbornly, he doesn't shift his hips.

"I really hope you can come like this," says Priestly, rubbing his fingers over John's hole without yet trying to push inside, and breathing hot against his neck, "because I'm not going to be touching your cock again tonight."

There's something so ridiculously intimate about him, the way that Priestly's touching him, his breath against his neck. Granby bites his lip.

"I suppose we'll see."

"Although I promise you'll be getting more than my fingers...eventually," says Priestly, licking from his shoulder to his hairline. "All in good time."

"So it won't be a total disappointment, then," says Granby, keeping his tone light and conversational, despite the fact that it's slightly tight. His hips hitch, pushing back against the rub of Priestly's fingers.

"Believe me, if I did choose to just finger you, it would blow your mind," says Priestly, "and there is nothing about tonight that's going to be a disappointment."

"Well,I've got all night if you have," he says, tone still light, and he really is wanton, rocking his hips back against the press of Priestly's fingers, cock throbbing and he actually considers dropping his hand and curling his fingers around his cock.

He does take it away from the wall, experimentally.

Priestly shoves him back against the wall, full body, then pulls his fingers away from John's ass, holding them just an inch or so away.

"Think very carefully about whether you want to do that again."

It's humiliating, but in a way that only makes his cock harder and his breath come quicker. Face burning, cheek pressed hard against the wall, John groans.

"Alright," he says, finally, voice tight. "I'm sorry."
He places his hand back against the wall.

Priestly's taken the opportunity to slick his fingers up a little; when they come back—and they do come back a moment later—they aren't just rubbing at the outside but pressing in, ever so slightly.

The pressure's both welcome and intensely maddening and Granby makes a small sound, his rocking back to urge Priestly on.

He almost says it, but he bites he's lip. He's not there yet.

Please.

Priestly bites against the back of his shoulder, just a scrape of teeth, then pushes in a little further, taking it as slow as he can without driving himself insane.

This time, the sound's louder, echoing slightly in the small space. Which just makes Granby's face burn hotter. He rocks his hips again, needing more, quicker.

As soon as Priestly's in all the way in he pauses, turns his wrist, curls his fingers ever so slightly. All of it just fast enough that it's clear he's still going, just slow enough to be maddening.

That gets a sound of him, soft, breathy, but there. His hips push back. His fingertips press against the wall.

He swallows hard.

"Fuck I love touching you," says Priestly, lips moving against his skin. Even when John is actively trying to control himself—more or less, anyway—his body is still so completely responsive and unrestrained. Priestly can always tell when he wants it, and has always loved that he doesn't try to pretend he doesn't.

"I love it when you touch me."

He lets himself have that much. Even though he knows that they're alone, he can't bring himself to be loud, not here, not in a place like this. It doesn't stop the shiver that comes from Priestly's breath on his skin and it doesn't stop the ride of his hips, either.

Priestly knows he has a condom tucked away somewhere because, well, he's started doing that ever since he and John started this thing, but he has to pull away to search for it, and to pull off his own clothes, if only as much as he's pulled off John's.

He finally slips his fingers out pulls his hands away, if not his mouth, and finds the condom tucked away in one of the pockets of his jeans before he kicks them off, leaving his shirt on.

This time, Granby doesn't move. His hand stays against the wall, forehead bent against the wall. His feet are planted wide, legs spread. He feels slick and open and exposed. His cheeks are burning.

He waits.

Priestly doesn't tease him this time, doesn't take it unbearably slow. He sees John's position, his bowed head, and his heart thumps harder, his pulse races. He places his hands on John's body and holds him there and pushes inside until there's nowhere more to go. And only then does he rest his teeth against John's throat and pause a moment.

To be so totally filled so suddenly is such a shock that he makes a long, strangled sound, squirming his hips back. It hurts, in a good way and he bites down hard on his lip.

Priestly gasps, he can't help it, he's been holding that reaction in too long, he gasps and he mouths at John's skin and it's another few moments before he moves, before starts moving inside him, and you don't forget how to do this. You never forget how to do this.

There's a limit to how much he can move, given the position that Priestly's put him in. It doesn't matter. he's content to stand there and take it, his hand against the wall.

He does moan, though, louder, this time.

True to his promise, he doesn't reach around and touch John's cock, and doesn't let him do it either. What he does is curl his hands around John's hips, brush his fingers over the skin then sink them in tight, and vary the angle he's thrusting him into it at till he finds the one that elicits the most noise.