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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John groans into the kiss, pushing forward with hips and chest. He urges the kiss deeper, forgetting, for the moment, any semblance of self discipline.

Honestly, they could just keep doing this for a while and Priestly would get off, heat and friction and lust and intimacy. It would take a while but that's okay, he's comfortable and they're alone and he feels like he could be pretty okay with kissing John for a very long time. But he only lets himself enjoy it for a little while--okay, a little bit longer than a little while--before he pulls away and pushes down slightly on John's shoulder.

"I think we should pick up where we left off," he says.

The pressure speaks for itself and John sinks down onto his knees but then...then he decides to push his luck.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Then you should probably figure it out quickly," says Priestly, moving his hand back to tangle in John's hair again, giving it just the slightest tug, "because I'm waiting."

"What if I don't?" asks Granby, leaning in, lips just ghosting over the jut of Priestly's hipbone.

"That depends on what you choose to do instead," says Priestly, twisting one bit of hair around his finger a little more tightly. "I'm open to ideas...within certain limitations."

The tug at the roots of his head makes his breath catch and he mouths against Priestly's skin, fingers coming up to trace against the inside of his thigh.

"What limitations?"

"Well," says Priestly, rubbing John's scalp gently with his thumb, "let's just say you're not going to need to stand up."

Granby hums his agreement, and he bends his head, brushing his lips against the shaft of Priestly's cock.

"Mmm, I think you've got the idea," says Priestly, but he tugs John's lock of hair again anyway because it seems to get such delicious results every time he does.

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, reacting to the pull at the root of his hair as he ducks his head lower, lips brushing against Priestly's balls, sucking lightly.

"I don't mind it a little harder," says Priestly, the mildness of his voice belying what he's asking John to do. "If you think you can handle that."

His reaction to that is a growl because there's no way he can't handle that. He leans in, sucking harder over Priestly's balls before running his tongue in a long wet stripe along the entire length of his cock.

"Claim it," says Priestly, even as he's been effectively claiming John all evening, asserting himself and making his desires abundantly clear. "Do what you like."

Though he hasn't been told to, Granby keeps his arms at hiss side, leaning in to use lips and tongue, brushing his cheek against the hardening length of Priestly's cock. He's hard enough now that it's easy to slip his mouth over the head and hold it, for a moment, teasing himself easily as much as he's teasing Priestly.

In theory this shouldn't go fast. He's already come once so this one should take longer, require more effort. It should last. Except that John is doing everything right whether he means to or not.

"Fuck," Priestly bursts out when John pauses. "More."

Granby takes that as instruction, as an order, and one that he's happy to take. He shifts his head, lips sliding down the shaft of Priestly's cock, taking it as deep as he possibly can without gagging before he bobs his head, sucking in long, firm strokes.

Priestly doesn't force himself not to thrust, doesn't tense his hips, it just feels right at the moment to arch his back slightly and rest his weight against the wall because John's already doing everything he needs. He doesn't need to take more than is being offered. John's mouth and throat and lips and tongue are already well on their way to bringing him off.

It's better, somehow, making himself do it without using his hand, focusing on what He can achieve with just lips and tongue. He sucks eagerly, sucks hungrily and, mostly, what he wants is more. More of anything that he can get.

There's a particular way that John is sucking him, a particular nerve ending that he keeps working that's just about driving Priestly insane. He wants to stay in control here—and in the most important ways he is—but it's just about driving him right over the edge. There's a part of him that doesn't want to do anything, because he doesn't dare do something that might make it stop.

Long years of practise and determination plus a certain love for the task at hand has made Granby the master of his own body. He all but wills the muscles in his throat to liquefy - that's how deep he wants to swallow Priestly down.

Priestly has been relatively careful up until now, because god knows he's had people messing with his hair all his teen and adult life, but he clutches at John's hair now, takes handfuls of it and doesn't care that he's holding it so tightly. He needs to hold something through this.

Priestly's fingers in his hair make his cock throb and Granby's rhythm doesn't falter, the slide of his mouth and the bob of his head. He loves this, loves the weight of Priestly's cock on his tongue, the press at the back of his throat. He moans, urging Priestly on.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, but it's definitely not a warning. No, this isn't a situation in which John is warned that Priestly is about to come. Merely informed. As a courtesy. Without invitation to stop.

He's got no intention of stopping, whether he has permission or not. He stays exactly where he is, mouth and tongue working, hand well out of the way, eager for what comes next.