[ sometimes, in the quiet dark of his apartment, saiph curves around june's back like the slotting pieces of a well-worn puzzle and fucks him sweet and slow. it's in those particular moments where he doesn't touch him and instead leaves june to squirm against the mattress, thrusting helplessly into tangled sheets 'til he's choking on dry, shuddering sobs. then later: june's knees bracketing his shoulders and saiph's teeth high on his thigh, his tongue curling past tight, fluttering muscle, tasting himself on june's skin.
other times june is gone for weeks or months, and saiph fucks him to bruise him, scatters him across the walls of his kitchen or over an empty bar in his casino after everyone's left for the night. june's orgasms are wrenched from him then, with saiph's hand wringing tight around his cock, asking him if he missed him, if he thought of him at all, did you let anyone else fuck you like how i fuck you, did you taste me in everyone you kissed.
this time is different.
this isn't saiph choking on petty bitterness, swallowing around the bile of every terrible bit of humanity that's been forced on him in punishment, nor is it the touch of a lover looking to rechart familiar territory. june fumbles with his shirt, his hand warm on saiph's skin, and saiph stops him with fingers around his wrist, lifting his arm to press an open-mouthed kiss to the center of his palm, chasing the droplets of water between his fingers with his tongue. ]
Let me.
[ let me take care of you, let me be good for you for once, as he turns him to face the wall and press him flush against the cold tile. his hand returns to its place between his thighs, thumb dragging a firm circle around the head of his cock, touching him in steady strokes; his mouth drops to the nape of his neck, nose in june's damp hair.
if he asks, he'll fuck him — because when has saiph ever denied him anything — but for now he focuses on the shivering warmth of june's body and the matching of their heartbeats. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
other times june is gone for weeks or months, and saiph fucks him to bruise him, scatters him across the walls of his kitchen or over an empty bar in his casino after everyone's left for the night. june's orgasms are wrenched from him then, with saiph's hand wringing tight around his cock, asking him if he missed him, if he thought of him at all, did you let anyone else fuck you like how i fuck you, did you taste me in everyone you kissed.
this time is different.
this isn't saiph choking on petty bitterness, swallowing around the bile of every terrible bit of humanity that's been forced on him in punishment, nor is it the touch of a lover looking to rechart familiar territory. june fumbles with his shirt, his hand warm on saiph's skin, and saiph stops him with fingers around his wrist, lifting his arm to press an open-mouthed kiss to the center of his palm, chasing the droplets of water between his fingers with his tongue. ]
Let me.
[ let me take care of you, let me be good for you for once, as he turns him to face the wall and press him flush against the cold tile. his hand returns to its place between his thighs, thumb dragging a firm circle around the head of his cock, touching him in steady strokes; his mouth drops to the nape of his neck, nose in june's damp hair.
if he asks, he'll fuck him — because when has saiph ever denied him anything — but for now he focuses on the shivering warmth of june's body and the matching of their heartbeats. ]