getggwithit | Back to Basics (lovingvambrace)

(Continuation of some other stuff.)

He leans his head forward, gratefully accepting the fingers rubbing against his scalp like a cat who's succumbed to having his head stroked (after pretending he didn't want it.) It's almost enough to make him purr, particularly as Cullen eases up behind him and wraps an arm around him.

"Your approval was all the convincing I needed." He turns his head, enough to nudge the edge of his beard against Cullen's cheek, sinking further into his arms. Maker, it hasn't really been months since they were this close, but it sure as shit suddenly feels like it. There's a mild quiver under his skin, a familiar thrum of anticipation that is all too ready to slink back wherever it came from, used to being denied of late.

Garrett bites his lip and closes his eyes. He exhales, and those fingers grasp Cullen's thigh, pulling him closer.

"Isn't it hot outside?" An understatement, as they're in a bloody desert. "You should take a break right here, where it's cool." He rocks his hips back in a very unsubtle grind.

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Between the groaning and the swallowing and the way Cullen watches him, it's as though all the energy is sucked right out of him. He leans back against the pillows, arms limp, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, a look nothing short of reverent on his face. The sight of Cullen sitting there so obediently, still holding him in his mouth-- that's going to be with him a while.

"Maker." One of his knees trembles slightly, and he fights the nervous urge to put his foot up on the litter. "Feels like it's been a blighted year." As much as he'd love to do that another six or seven times, he's starting to go soft. The afterglow of orgasm has him relaxing against his will, even feeling the temptation to close his eyes. (Cullen would forgive him for conking out asleep immediately after coming, but Garrett wouldn't forgive himself.)

"You look like you enjoyed that."

When he can tell he's going limp, he pulls off with a final noisy suck and licks the rest of it from his lips, reaching up to wipe at his chin and take that off his fingers. It's hard to believe there was ever a time he didn't like the taste of this, a very distant past.

"It has been far longer than I'd like," he agrees, sitting up on his knees. A quick adjustment keeps his breeches from pinching him uncomfortably. He lets out a shaky breath, cheeks flushed, hair clinging at his forehead and temples. He'll have to fix himself up a bit before he can immediately head back out to work, not that he's completely inclined to immediacy right now.

"I did. I've missed having you that way." He's beyond grateful he's able after what happened. He'd never thought to see him again, a bit of an unfortunate theme.

"You certainly haven't lost your touch at all."

Garrett doesn't sit up yet, still lounging quite disreputably across the litter. His smile is lazy and adoring at the same time, and he reaches out to rustle his fingertips through those sweaty curls.

"What can I do for you?" he murmurs. "Anything. I want to." As much as he likes to be the center of erotic attention, he doesn't want to be the only one receiving any. And besides, there's plenty he can do mostly motionless on a padded platform. Like... friction? Right?

He gives it some real thought, not wanting to do anything vigorous for a number of reasons. Suddenly his mouth curves. "Direct me." He holds his right hand out slightly to the side. "Make me your proxy."

He hopes it's an erotic enough idea that Garrett will find it intriguing, having to think about what would feel good and please him and getting the satisfaction of being in control. "We don't have time to tease too much right now. We can always revisit this tonight if you like and may be able to do better with the bed."

It's not that he doesn't think Garrett can handle anything, just that where they are and how dressed he's had to stay don't lend themselves to many creative options.

"My proxy?" Thanks to the recent orgasm he isn't quite firing on all cylinders yet, and it takes him a moment to discern what he means. It hits him, and he cracks a grin.

"Oh... could you possibly double over backwards and fuck your throat?" he murmurs. "Come across my face? Wait. I'm confusing myself. Are you me, or are you you? Or..."

A combination of a stupid joke and a bit of lingering frustration that they're still not as free as they ought to be. As he thinks they ought to be, anyway, because the healers certainly wouldn't agree with Garrett's assessment. Cullen's remark about revisiting this at night has him suddenly rather giddy again.

"Touch yourself," he murmurs. "Where I can see. Will it take the edge off, or make it even worse? I'm not sure..."

He gives him his most droll eye roll for his horrible jokes. "So good to see your humor isn't broken. I don't think there's a healer alive who'd know what to make of that."

The expression doesn't last long. His eyes hold lambent heat at the more serious request, his smile deepening. "Pretty sure I know the answer for myself," he says.

Kneeling up, he spreads his thighs further to put himself at a good level for his viewing pleasure. He tugs the rest of the lacing free of the breeches and lets out a soft groan of relief. His cock emerges thick and red, already wet at the tip. He makes a show of scooping up from the base and squeezing just beneath the head to push a larger bead of clear precum out, letting it drip down over his grip. "Like this?" His voice is already thicker.

"Intact and working perfectly, I'm sorry to say." Even if it was badly bruised for a while, he's slowly gotten back into a more frequently jovial mood. It makes it easier not to fret, and not to worry about making Cullen fret.

His eyes widen, nearly glassy as he watches Cullen remove himself from his breeches, that rough hand wrapping around his swelling cock. Maker, his mouth is watering. This is almost certainly going to make it worse for him, too.

"Yes. Like that." He swallows. "Slower. Just your fingertips. I want you to ache as much as I am. In the-- non-literal..."

He can't help but grin as his sentence runs away with him and trails off. He reaches down to squeeze his calf lightly, keeping his grip of his cock front and center for him to see. "Don't worry, Love. I didn't get the impression you were wishing me pain." He's ridiculous sometimes. It's why he loves him as much as he does.

Shifting his hold, he takes himself between fingers and thumb, lightly stroking with slow movements up and down. His breathing hitches almost immediately. It is a form of torture after sucking him off the way he did. His hips jut forward of their own volition.

"You have your wish." His voice is soft. There's an intimacy in the closed space that reminds him of some of their forbidden trysts in Kirkwall, anywhere they could manage. That brings a different sort of ache, one he doesn't entertain for long. He wants this to be a happy occasion for both of them, not an evocation of regrets or old fears.

Back to Basics (lovingvambrace)

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