Not Short, Fat, or Balding

Email to rpg_rufus

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 03 Apr 2004 07:00:50 GMT

To: rufus.sewell@establishment.rpg
CC: elsa.tanner@eststaffing.rpg
Subject: Shopping List

Hey love,

I pretty much tend to cook based on whatever comes to hand, but it helps to have a few staples to work with. Take

salad greens
tomatoes
olives (oil cured. Greek, Spanish, or Tunisian)
spinach
pasta (manicotti and linguine)
cream
ricotta cheese
fresh mozarella
fresh basil (and whatever other herbs look good)
eggs
stilton
extra-virgin olive oil - no comments, Rufus
garlic
feta - sheep's milk
bread - baguette

There. That should keep us from expiring of starvation for a day or two. Also, you'll note that I thoughtfully saved you the trouble of forwarding this straight to Elsa. Hello, Elsa! *waves* I'm the clean sort, I swear.

Love,
Paul

Phone message for rpg_rufus

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 03 Apr 2004 06:24:42 GMT

Monday, huh? Well, I hope you don't mind immediate invasion. *voice drops into a low purr* I'm too greedy to wait a moment longer than I have to. See you soon, poodle. Love you.

return message to heath_ledger

ailei@texas.net — Fri, 26 Mar 2004 12:21:58 GMT

Hey yourself, sweetheart. *snorts* Funny you should ask. I'll ring you back tonight, maybe catch you then. I wanted to check with you anyway - all those public posts about your Master and other men, after all that you two just went through. Well...forgive me for being the old mother hen, I hope? Just want to make sure you're fine with everything. Love you, puppy.

PRIVATE. GODDAMNIT, PRIVATE!

ailei@texas.net — Tue, 23 Mar 2004 15:50:38 GMT

It’s been so long since the last time I slept with Rufus that I’d quite forgotten how warm he is, the way he somehow manages to keep a hand on me at all times, even with my tossing and turning and typical bad dreams.

He’s gone now, and one night’s more than I’ve had with him in…what? Months now, surely. I’m still trying to sort myself out from that talk, and I’m not exactly doing a stellar job at it. Honestly…what the bleeding fuck is wrong with that man? Oh, bugger – I know exactly what’s wrong with him. He just can’t stop *thinking*, and he’s so damnably fair-minded that he’s always thinking of how to balance everything. I’d much rather he crush me like a bug than try to be *nice* to me. I fucking *hate* nice.

“Didn’t need the conventions”, my pasty *arse*. What the HELL does that mean when it’s at home? He’s got the fucking conventions with fucking Stephen, doesn’t he? Right down to the sodding RING on his finger. So basically that means that Paul’s sorta like Old Faithful – you never have to worry about whether he’ll blow or not, cos you can set your watch by him. Fuck.

It’s *hard* to confess what you want. It was fucking scary to tell him that I want at least a little of our lives to be lived together, and that I want that forever. It would’ve been bloody nice to get some sort of declaration in kind. Not bloody “I just don’t know how we can fit ‘us’ into the rest of our lives”. Fucking wanker.

I feel like the kid in that American film from when I was a teenager. “I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen.” It’s a good thing he’s my best friend.

The worst part, though, the absolute worst was the whole, “I don’t *plan* on telling you to bugger off for the *foreseeable* future.” Not what I needed to hear, you prat. “At least”. “If.” Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. And then I did what I always do, what actors are always *supposed* to do: show, and not tell. I tried to show him, with my eyes, with my body, that I am deeply in love. And I think, somewhere in the process, he finally understood. LIVE IN THE MOMENT, YOU BLOODY MORON.

Give me all of you when you’re with me. Give me your heart without qualifications when you’re in my arms. That’s what I need. That’s what I crave. That’s what I miss when all this keeps me up nights. Be whatever you wish when you’re with him, or with anyone else. But when you’re with me, BE with ME.

Fuck. Fucking hell. I need to go do something useful. They always need help down at the aid office, and I can at least type letters and shit.

Rufus/Paul, Last Week

ailei@texas.net — Mon, 22 Mar 2004 12:46:24 GMT

[Players, not pups. Happens when Rufus makes his short trip back to London from New York.]

Paul: Paul is uncharacteristically nervewracked on the cab ride over, constantly fretting over whether to pitch the huge bouquet of wildflowers tied with a blue silk ribbon out the window, or maybe give them to the cabbie as a tip to take home to his wife. He subconsciously chose an outfit that makes his blue eyes stand out and that emphasises the delicate pinks in his skin tone, but is still as casual as a cotton jumper and jeans. When the car pulls up outside Rufus', he pays the driver, tips him with money instead of flowers, and then goes up to ring the bell.

Rufus: After almost a month away the house has that odd, lonely feel about it even though the housekeeper has been in each week. Rufus puts his bags in the bedroom and goes around the house opening blinds, putting a CD on the payer, turning on the heating and most important, getting the coffee started. Even with the red-eye flight and a morning spent with his agent Rufus feels remarkably upbeat, if a trifle nervous. The bell rings as he is putting his clothes away. He stuffs the overnight bag out of sight, takes a deep breath and trots down the stairs. Anticpation overtakes the nerves, and he is smiling as he opens the door. "Paul." He manages to hug you as he drags you into the house.

Paul: "Rufus," it's a low murmur as his arms go round your neck, chest pressing tight to chest as he returns the embrace, a shiver going up his spine at being back in your arms again.

Rufus: "It's so good to see you," Rufus rubs his cheek against yours. "Get in here, love." He's positively beaming now. He pulls back to look at you. "I seem to have got out of the habit of going weeks without your company. I'm having withdrawal symptoms," he half teases.

Paul: "I've missed you ridiculously." He offers the flowers, blushing a little. "I thought the place could use some life after being shut up for a little while."

Rufus: Rufus takes the flowers, "It certainly can. Thank you." He leads you into the sitting room, "I've made coffee. But I'm thinking of something stronger as well. What can I get you?" He picks up a vase from the sideboard.

Paul: "Coffee with whiskey sounds perfect for a cold afternoon." Blue eyes follow your motions as you fill the vase with water, hips resting along the counter. It's only a matter of moments before he sees the ring. His heart lurches in his chest and he has to bite his lip hard to keep himself from showing what he's sure must be a titanic overreaction. "Busy trip?" he manages.

Rufus: "Good choice." Rufus putters around the kitchen, pouring the whiskey first and handing it to you. He sips his own then gets the flowers organised. "Here? It's a total holiday in New York for me. Michael is a bit of a whirl wind. Haven't seen much of James, he's tied up with the plays. I've been dragging Stephen to galleries and museums. I think he's about to put his foot down." Rufus grins and starts on the coffee. "I spent all morning doing work stuff..." He hands you a mug, "And here I am."

Paul: He pours the whiskey into the coffee for efficiency's sake, and sits the tumbler in the sink. "I owe you an apology, I think, for that ridiculous outburst of mine. I'm quite beyond it, and ready to get back to normal."

Rufus: Rufus holds the hot mug between his hands, his eyes fixed on you as he drinks. "I don't think you did anything you need to apologise for... but thank you." He picks up his glass, "Let's get comfortable. Would you bring the flowers?" There's a slight pause as you both head into the sitting room, "Actually, I think I owe you an apology. You startled me. When that happens I tend to stop thinking."

Paul: Paul picks up the vase and follows, settling into the far end of the sofa clutching his coffee. "Is there..." he bites his lower lip hard, "...anything you'd like to tell me, perhaps? Any decisions you may have made?"

Rufus: Rufus follows you and sits in the middle of the sofa turned toward you with one leg curled under him. "Decisions?" He watches your face with a puzzled look. "It looks as though we'll be in New York for a while... a couple of months at least. Though I'm due to start filming in April and that'll be somewhere in Europe..." He grins, "Probably Prague again." He sees your eyes flick to his hand and runs his thumb over the ring. "This? Wasn't I wearing it last time I saw you?"

Paul: "No. You weren't. The timing of it is...interesting." He keeps that well-trained voice carefully neutral, eyes shrewdly blank.

Rufus: "Ah." Rufus holds your eyes. He has the grace to look a little guilty, even embarrassed. "It... God, where to start," he mutters. "Okay. Firstly, it isn't a wedding ring. Not even a betrothal. We've been talking for a few weeks now about wearing something as a reminder, and a sign I suppose." He's rather loathe to admit that. "But it's more a private thing not a public statement. It could have been any piece of jewellery. A ring just seemed... I don't know, simplest." That sounds a little thin even to Rufus, though it's true. He reaches out and touches your hand as it lies on your thigh. "And the timing is absolutely coincidental. I swear it Paul." He runs his hand through his hair. "Fuck. You can't believe I'd be so harsh. To answer you like that without a word?"

Paul: "I wouldn't think so, Rufus. But I know I absolutely shocked you, and people do funny things in those situations." He gives you a half smile and reaches out to touch your thigh. "I think I'm just really...sensitive about it all right now."

Rufus: "True." He nods slowly. "I hope I wouldn't. But I can see that it might look that way. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking beyond the moment. Again." He takes you hand. "I guess you did shock me. For several reasons, I think. The more I thought about it the more I... Paul, part of my surprise was that you'd only just realised. I've known we were more than friends, even more than intimate friends, almost from the first."

Paul: That statement absolutely stuns him. "You...do you know we could have been..." He founders for words. "Dammit, Rufus. Why didn't you claim me, if you'd wanted me all along?"

Rufus: That makes Rufus blink, then frown slightly. "Claim you?" He's almost speechless. "But..." He doesn't know where to start. "I thought you were happy with the way we were. I mean... I was. Except that I'd have liked to have seen more of you sometimes. But..." He can't quite find the words. "Most of the time one, or both, of us was with someone else. And it seemed better almost, beyond the usual couple thing." He's still not getting his meaning across. "I always thought we understood each other. Didn't need the conventions." He's starting to sound a bit plaintive now.

Paul: "Conventions like...what? Sharing a bed? Building something between the two of us? Being stupidly happy? I don't know, Rufus. The conventions can be rather nice. I wouldn'tve asked you to fucking marry me, for Christ's sake." The more plaintive you get, the more irked he gets.

Rufus: "So. You've felt like this all along? Why didn't you say something then?" Rufus snaps. "And before you ask, I love you... deeply, but I don't think I've ever thought of us being a couple." He frowns into his whiskey glass. "I'm not... I don't..." He shakes his head. "I don't know why."

Paul: "I think I didn't know what it was, either." He laughs, shaking his head. "I think that what I have with Antonio has taught me...oh, bloody hell. Has taught me what love feels like. It was a short step to realising that what I've felt for you has always been this same kind of love."

Rufus: That makes Rufus smile. "Really? I pretty much knew but..." He gives you a rueful grin, "I still don't really understand the IN love thing. Call me stupid. Maybe I'm not really the romantic type. Or it's possible that I just had the notion that if I 'settled down' it'd be with a woman I suppose." He ponders that. "Or perhaps not. I don't know."

Paul: "I don't think I ever want to be settled exactly like that. I could never be monogamous in a million years." Paul's mouth twists in a wry grin. "I suppose it's all for the best. We'd be entirely too good a couple."

Rufus: "I couldn't either I don't think." Rufus puts his empty coffee cup down and shifts to lean against you. "Possibly. Or we'd be too alike and end up driving each other crazy. I'm a very solitary person usually. And that's the other thing that threw me. " He heads off at a slight tangent. "Given that we're both committed to other people and happy to be," he shoots you a questioning look but doesn't wait for an answer, "how are we to have more together?"

Paul: Paul lays a tentative arm across your shoulders. "I don't know, love." He makes an exasperated sound. "I confessed what I felt to Antonio, who was entirely unsurprised, and he had a revelation for me as well that...that changes things."

Rufus: Rufus lies against you, one hand on your hest. "I've spoken to Stephen too. I must admit I half expected him to say he knew." He flashes you a wry smile, "He's fine with us being close. I think he's a bit wary of us getting any closer." He smiles to himself, "And I think I'd feel the same if I was him." Rufus looks up, "Are things okay with you and Antonio?"

Paul: "What exactly does 'closer' mean? Are there rules? Guidelines?" He moves his arm from around your shoulders so he can rub his tired eyes. "He made me promise not to talk about it, even with you, but there is a development that means he'll probably be getting a second house to share with another lover."

Rufus: "That's my term, love. I'm not sure we could get closer." Rufus reaches up and lays his palm on your cheek. "I feel that we know each other so well, understand each other." He uncoils himself and goes to fetch the whiskey bottle and your abandoned glass. He watches you as he pours, worried by your expression. "Shit. I wish we weren't away right now." He leans forward and kisses you gently.

Paul: "I suppose that what I want is more than the occasional few hours when we can fit them in with our other lovers. I..." His hands twist, nerves obvious. It's not like him to flat out ask for what he wants, but he's past the point of being coy or polite. "I want...I want us to have more. I want to have time and a place to ourselves, where we can just be. And I want whatever it is we build together, and I want it for...well. Forever." The halting words make his stomach flip.

Rufus: He sips the smoky spirit, his eyes serious. "More time would be nice." He smiles affectionately at you and places his hand over yours, stilling their nervous motion. "And I'd prefer not to be forever meeting you in hotels, or even the club. It seems so... furtive somehow." His mind is racing, trying to find answers. "Paul... I'd like something like that too. Though I don't know what. Or how." It occurs to Rufus that your relationship with Antonio is quite different to his with Stephen. "I don't know." He sighs. "We need to think about it, discuss it. But I believe that we'll always be important to each other, love. Always. I just don't know how we can fit 'us' into the rest of our lives."

Paul: Paul shakes his head ruefully. "I don't want to upset your life, Rufus. This is really unbearably selfish of me. It's not like I'm going to start making demands, so you don't have to humour me." He reaches out to touch your hand, cheeks flushed, ashamed of the intensity of his emotions and the baseness of his impulses.

Rufus: "I'm not humouring you!" he says indignantly. "Christ Paul." Rufus takes your hand. "I'm sorry." Everything he says seems to make things worse. "Maybe I'm trying too hard to make it all fit right now. " He runs a finger down your flushed cheek. "I want ... I want you in my life... and more time together - to talk or argue or... or watch films... I don't know. BE together." He flashes you a sly smile, "And the sex." He sighs, annoyed at himself. "Bear with me, love."

Paul: "No, Rufus...it's all right." He sighs heavily and crawls into your lap, setting aside his scotch and yours, straddling and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "I honestly didn't want to put such ungodly amounts of pressure on you." Paul's lanky body always manages to fit against yours, and he presses his face to your shoulder, cuddling up close. "Don't worry, I'll go back to my side of the sofa to continue the seriousness in a moment. I just wanted to hold you for a bit."

Rufus: Rufus wraps his arms around your waist. "I think I must be a natural worrier. Not your fault." He hugs you close and rests his cheek on your head. "This is nice." He suppresses the urge to say more, knowing that for once the two of you probably aren't going to be able to talk this out right away.

Paul: Long, sensitive fingers, red at the knuckles from the cold outside, stroke your black curls tenderly, then shape the lines of your cheekbones. His blue eyes are clouded as he answers, "It's...yeah. It's...nice." He curls his back to press a delicate kiss to one cheek, then the other.

Rufus: He smiles and moves into your touch. "Feels right somehow. Natural." His expression is a little anxious as he searches your gaze. "I always feel at peace with you." Rufus hands stray across your lower back and he murmurs softly as you kiss him, lifting his head to meet you lips.

Paul: Those careful, guitar-calloused fingertips trace your lips with the barest touch, and he makes a low, involuntary noise. "Nothing feels quite like this, when you're warm and soft and sweet in my arms." Paul's cheeks redden with embarrassment at having said such a thing, then he leans back in to cover it with another kiss, this one to your eyelids.

Rufus: Rufus shivers as your rough/gentle fingers ghost over his lips. "No." He agrees then dips his head, a shy smile crossing his face at your words. Your lips on his eyelids make him sigh, "Paul," and hug you closer.

Paul: "Should I go back to my corner so we can continue the debate?" he murmurs, arms sliding round your shoulders and cuddling up close, resisting the urge to kiss you properly.

Rufus: "Not unless you want to, love. I'd much rather hold you." Rufus kisses your temple and rubs his cheek on your hair.

Paul: "Maybe we should just...I don't know. Say 'fuck it' and just keep on as we have." He rubs back against you like a giant cat, mouth sliding messily from your hairline to your cheek.

Rufus: "Maybe things will just naturally find their level," Rufus is caught between hope and doubt. "We've acknowledged our feelings. That's bound to change things." He buries his face in your shoulder. "I can't lose you."

Paul: "You won't. You couldn't. I love you far too well to run off just because things don't go my way." He goes back to stroking your now-tousled hair, heart thumping hard against your chest.

Rufus: "Same here." He nods and strokes his hand down your back. "You're too important." It's such a new experience. In the past he's always been able to make thing work out in his life, for his partners. He feels frustrated and stupid that he can't now.

Paul: "Hey...stop beating yourself up this instant." Paul knows your moods quite well. "This is impossible, and I'm not making it any easier. There's no right answer, and no wrong answer. Unless you tell me to bugger off of course. That would be horrendously wrong." He shakes his head. "Fuck, I'm babbling again."

Rufus: Rufus hitches a shoulder looks up at your with a mixture of apology and amusement. "I don't plan on telling you that in the foreseeable future." He cups your face in his hand and kisses you. "You're cute when you babble. Mr Incisive Comment."

Paul: In truth, there's something deeply needy in the way Paul whimpers into the offhand kiss and presses closer into it, lips parting eagerly. He tries to put the vagueness of 'plan' and 'foreseeable future' out of his mind entirely.

Rufus: "You're part of my life, Paul." Rufus holds your chin between fingers and thumb and tries to read your eyes. You are positively exuding 'don't go there' vibes. Words haven't served him well so far so he gives up on them. Sliding his hand to the back of your head he holds you returns to the kiss, hoping to express his emotions better this way.

Paul: He knows he's just trying to protect himself, he knows he owes you more than that. But right now you're kissing him, and it's so good, so easy, to snake his tongue out and slide it against yours, urging it into his mouth for him to suckle.

Rufus: His hand tightens around your skull. He hums into your mouth, tongues dancing together until his follows yours and he is kissing you hard and deep. Later he'll worry about the almost convulsive way you are clinging to him but right now it feels so good to be pressed against you, holding you, loving you.

Paul: God, kissing you is always such a fucking *joy*, but this time...fuck this stupid fucking conscience of his. He mewls and pulls back, fighting the grip on the back of his head to look you in the eyes, willing there to be nothing in them but the simple truth of how he feels: scared, and vulnerable, and stupid, and yet so in love he'll risk all those things simply to have a chance at whatever you can give him.

Rufus: For a moment Rufus holds you not realising that you are trying to pull back. Then his hand relaxes till he's just loosely clasping your neck. "Paul?" You look scared... and wistful. "Love." He wonders what you can see in his eyes. He wants to explain how much he loves you and Stephen and how he terrified he is that he's going to lose you both. But every time he's tried to explain himself he's made things worse. "I love you." That can't do any damage surely. "And I want at least what we've always had together. More if we can find a way."

Paul: Sometimes, Paul really wishes you'd just shut up and experience. "Shh..." he shakes his head slightly, bringing your mouth to his again. He doesn't want qualifications or half-anything or 'at least' or 'if'. Right now, right here, he just wants you, in him on him, perfect in and of itself.

Rufus: Confused, Rufus tentatively presses his mouth to yours. Not sure whether he's going to be welcomed he kisses you gently but with every emotional barrier flung wide open. At least he can show you what you mean to him. His arms instinctively tighten, he's not letting you withdraw not now that he has you warm and vital in his lap.

Paul: Paul absolutely melts, mouth hot and slick as it opens for you again, hands sliding up under your shirt to press against bare skin, one hand over your heart. He kisses you with his uncanny focus, tongue and jaws and lips working gently to get ever deeper, claim ever more.

Rufus: He stops trying to understand and just gives himself to you. Your hand on his chest sends shivers through him and one of his own hands slips between your jumper and pants to rub small circles on your back. Rufus simply opens to you, his tongue gliding along yours as he makes soft satisfied noises.

Paul: Oh, this was *it*. Exactly what he'd been craving. Paul arches his back, wanting to feel your skin against his so badly but utterly unwilling to relinquish your mouth to have it. It's a luxury to simply stop thinking and simply feel.

Rufus: Rufus' hand moves higher, nails lightly scratching then fingertips smoothing across your skin. After a moment his other hand leaves your neck and starts to push your jumper out of his way, bunching it under your arms as he strokes your back and sides/

Paul: His nipples pebble at the first little scratches, and he moans hungrily into your mouth, hips undulating against yours. His own hands glide, feather light, over your chest.

Rufus: "Got to get..." Rufus drags his head back and yanks the jumper over your head, "this thing off." Satisfied he bends and starts to suckle at your nipple.

Paul: "Oh, *fuck*," he hisses, cock pressing painfully to the zip of his jeans. His hands go back to your hair, cupping your head and holding it to the aching little bit of pinked flesh, bursting to hardness against your tongue.

Rufus: He's making gruff little sounds, almost growling as he works at your flesh then after a sharp parting nip he moves to the other side of your chest and begins again. All the while his hips are arching up to press against you.

Paul: He tugs your head back with a pained groan, just long enough to yank your shirt up over your head and toss it aside. It's Paul's turn now to curl his tongue around the dusky nipple, flicking it back and forth roughly.

Rufus: Rufus mutters then grins at you until your tongue touches him, then he moans. "Yes, baby." He lets his head fall back against the couch and rolls his body languidly under you.

Paul: A light scrape of teeth heralds the slow, licking switch from one nipple, across your chest to the other. His fingers slide down your belly, thumbs tracing a firm path down the line of your erection, movements bordering on the frenetic.

Rufus: "God. Paul." Rufus ruffles his fingers through your hair. "Let's get more comfortable, love." He pulls gently at your hair. "Come upstairs."

Paul: He looks adorable baffled for a moment, then nods shakily, sliding up off your lap and holding out his hand. "Floor sounds pretty fucking comfortable."

Rufus: Rufus blinks then grins and takes your hand. "Whither thou goest," he murmurs as he lets you lead him.

Paul: Paul looked back over his shoulder. "Don't you make me any promises," he says softly, eyes warm.

Rufus: "Okay." He puts his free hand over his mouth, his eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Your wish is my desire." He grins, "And I'll try to stop the quotes."

Paul: "Don't change a thing, either." He turns on the stairs, pulling your hand away and stealing your lips in a deep, hot, sudden kiss.

Rufus: The kiss sends sparks through him. A step below you with his head tilted back, Rufus murmurs against your lips, "Kiss me like this and I'll be putty in your hand."

Paul: Paul's answer is a low growl and a biting tug to your lower lip, tongue swiping past your teeth to thrust wickedly in and out of your mouth.

Rufus: "Hmmm. Just like that." Rufus hands around your waist, his fingers just dipping into the waistband of your pants.

Paul: "S'putty, is it?" His accent dips toward the coarse, muttered in a hoarse, ready sort of voice so close you can feel the puffs of breath. Fingers grip your hard cock through your trousers and squeeze. "Leave it out in the sun too long?"

Rufus: "Yeah, mate. 's up to you whether you can get it in a workable condition." Rufus hisses as you squeeze him.

Paul: An expert motion has your zip down and his hand inside, wrapping around hot, hard flesh. "Fuck, this is gonna feel so good in me." His thumb swipes the swollen head, pressing against the slit.

Rufus: "God. Paul" Rufus sways toward you, his cock jerking in your hand. He nudges you with his shoulder. "Going to do it on the stairs are we? Get moving."

Paul: The hand slides out and he puts his slick thumb in his mouth, moaning at your taste. "Mmmm...God, yes." His other hand takes yours once more and practically drags you up behind him. At the top landing he has to stop and think through his lust-addled brain where your bedroom is, but he finally remembers and pulls you toward it.

Rufus: Rufus watches amused as you get your bearings, he's about to edge you towards the right door when you tug him forward. He stops and strips off his jeans then goes to work getting you naked as well.

Paul: Paul shed his trainers some time ago, and you've already divested him of his sweater. It's easy to tug his own jeans down his impossibly long legs, and he laughs as you do so, rubbing his now-bare arse back against your cock.

Rufus: He wraps one arm around your waist and grabs your cock with the other, holding in his palm and stroking his fingers around the flared head.

Paul: Paul cries out, open mouthed, and his hips move forward into your hand, backward into your cock, letting the hot length slide up inside his cleft and squeezing it tightly.

Rufus: "On the bed, love." But he holds you a moment linger as he bites gently at the angle of shoulder and neck

Paul: "God, yes, Rufus." He crawls up on the bed, making sure you have a clear, unimpeded, utterly lewd view of his backside and the little pink hole just waiting to be filled.

Rufus: "You're such a slut Paul," he says affectionately, lightly slapping the arse you so eagerly present. He digs into the top drawer of the nightstand for supplies. It's the work of an instant and he's on the bed with you, stroking a slick finger across your hole and licking the smooth skin at the small of your back.

Paul: Paul flips over onto his back, pushing hard at the teasing finger and taking it inside just enough so that it stays with him while he moves. "Yeah...and I know a man who turns me into a proper little whore." He finds your cock and strokes it, pulling it lightly, urging you to shift your hips so he can taste the luscious tip.

Rufus: "You wouldn't be accusing me by any chance?" Rufus teases then grunts softly when your tongue swipes at his cock. "Been too long."

Paul: "Yeah, s'why I want everything all at once. Tell me you're gonna fuck me all night long, and I'll let you get on with round one." Teeth slide roughly over the frenum.

Rufus: "I'll do my best. You certainly inspire me." Rufus curls his finger to press at your prostate before he retreats and adds a second finger.

Paul: "Enough...*enough* Rufus, too much. Want to feel you burn when you push into me. Want to feel every fucking *inch* of you fucking me."

Rufus: "It's like that is it?" Rufus growls and sits back on his heel, rolling the condom over his cock. "Whatever sir requires." He kneels between your thighs and enters on a long, steady thrust, groaning at the delicious sensation. He mutters huskily, "This what you wnat, baby?"

Paul: "GOD, FUCK, YES, yes, that's what I want, want YOU, want you so fucking bad, love you so *fucking* much." His long back arches right up off the bed, passage alive and hot and spasming around your buried prick.

Rufus: Rufus shudders as you tighten around him. "Yes." He pulls back slowly then slams back into you his hands gripping your hips. "Love you too." All night you said. Rufus smiles wickedly and sets about giving you what you want.

Paul: His fingers slide up your arms to touch that evil grin as his legs wrap around you, enveloping and trapping. He pulls you down so that he can kiss you, messy and wet, tongue wriggling hungrily into your mouth as if he needs it to complete a circuit.

Rufus: He goes happily into your kiss, his arms reaching under you to pull you closer and hold you steady as his hips settle into a sensuous rhythm.

Paul: Paul keens into your mouth, low streams of nonsense as his prick, trapped against his belly by your weight, throbs each time he grinds up in response to your thrusts. He squeezes tight around you and cries out when you both get the angle JUST perfect.

Rufus: "Fuck. Paul..." Rufus moans as you grind against him. "So good." He watches the emotions play across you face. "Aahhh. YES." He slides his hands up and curls his fingers over your shoulders, pulling you down hard as he fucks you.

Paul: His hands go to your hair as they so often do, and he locks his gaze with yours, letting you see it all, withholding nothing. Not one nuance. In fact, the openness is excruciatingly vulnerable, so much so that it has him shaking on the edge of orgasm in no time at all.

Rufus: Rufus almost purrs as you bury your hands in his hair. Your eyes catch his, holding him with their intensity and emotion. He is flooded with answering emotion. "Oh, love." He bends down to kiss you and whisper. "Come with me, baby."

Paul: It's all he can do to hold on until he feels the first spasm overtake you, but the instant he knows you're coming he surrenders his own climax, legs tightening almost painfully around your waist as he thrashes with the sheer power of it, pumping jet after jet of hot seed over your straining bellies.

Rufus: Rufus groans as his climax races through him. His hands tighten on your shoulders and his hips jerk as he pours into you.

Paul: Paul holds onto you tightly, still moving in slow upward thrusts even as he comes down and gradually manages to untangle himself from you. "Oh Christ...fucking hell."

Rufus: "Hmmm." Rufus hugs you as he comes down from his climax. He deals with the condom quickly then turns back to you and rests his head on your shoulder. He runs his hand across your chest. "God, yes."

Paul: "Needed that," he murmurs, stroking your sweaty back and hooking his feet over your thighs. "Needed to feel you."

Rufus: He moves under your stroking hand rather like a contented cat. "So did I. More than I realised." Rufus licks the damp skin under his cheek. "Should have brought the whiskey upstairs with us."

Paul: "Mmmm...we brought all that really matters." He turns his head for a lazy kiss, tongue flickering out to touch yours.

Rufus: He kisses you back murmuring contentedly against you lips, "True."

Voice mail for heath_ledger

ailei@texas.net — Wed, 10 Mar 2004 04:37:53 GMT

Oi. You. You never write, you never call. You are a very bad puppy indeed.

*pause, as Paul's voice drops to a serious timbre*

Really, love. Are things all right? I've been traveling, and I haven't talked to you in way too long. *kissy noises* Call me, brat.

Bitch, bitch, whine, bitch.

ailei@texas.net — Mon, 08 Mar 2004 13:07:03 GMT

[private]

[private post]

Lather, rinse, repeat.

The trip really was lovely - those boys are darling, but I fear for them. Especially after reading Diego's entry. I did some searching and found a few support groups in the LA area they could attend - I think being around people going through the same things they are would be incredibly helpful. Making love with Gael was so sweet it made my heart hurt. He is so beautiful, so fragile, so brilliant. I do not often pray (and never ever for myself) but I do pray for him. I just won't tell him.

I got back to London only to have a message on my home voice mail from vincent_cassel asking me to come over because he had a favour to ask of me. I showed up yesterday afternoon, with no idea what to expect. Vincent, bless him, is an odd duck at the best of times, and one never quite knows what's going to come out of his mouth at any given moment. As it happens, this time the request was to do a scene where I fuck him as he fucks Monica. I have to admit to a certain surprise - Vincent is staunchly toppy and dominant. He's never even been fucked, in point of fact, and he wanted me to remedy that situation. I was certainly touched. He is a dear friend, and until I met Antonio, he was pretty much my perfect dom, and one of the only people I have ever let seriously mark my skin. And yet, when he asked me if I wanted to go 'practice', all I could think was how sweet and precious this truly was. I made love to him slowly, made it as goddamned good as I knew how. By the time he was lying in my arms, he was more bonelessly sated than I've ever seen him. Felt a bit smug, I did.

And it certainly kept my mind off Rufus for an afternoon, which is more than a welcome idea. My stomach aches when I think about him, in that strange way that only dissipates when you pull your beloved on top of you and press your belly up to his as hard as you can. The sheer, twisting ANGST of this is so foreign to me. With Antonio, I was so thoroughly swept off my feet there was no time to angst over it, or worry about it. It just happened. Is this then that pesky feeling people always talk about when they say say love hurts? Yeah, well. No shit. It fucking kills.

To make my ridiculously complex life even more difficult, there is Javier. Antonio told me, in a shared revelation before we left for LA, that his feelings for his brother run deeper than mere brotherhood with some lust thrown in to make things interesting. He's in love with Javier, and Javier is getting a divorce. Well. I can't say that this upsets me, but how could I fail to realise what a high stakes game this is, now? So much depends on how well I can handle this. I told Antonio that Javier must come stay with us for awhile after the worst of the divorce is passed, so that we can pet him. Antonio wants them to have a house of some sort together, so that they can have their time, and how could I deny him? It's just...much. Very muchly much. I need to wrap my head around it all with the assistance of alcohol, music, and pot, yes I do.

ailei@texas.net — Thu, 04 Mar 2004 12:33:59 GMT

[public]

This has to be the most fabulous trip to LA I've ever had. bad_moon and gael are wonderful, gracious hosts. Antonio and I have spent a week lolling about their garden drinking, smoking, fucking and being generally useless. I did cook a few times. We survived the Oscars admirably, though Miramax wouldn't give Gael and Diego up and we were separated for the duration of the show. It was a tricksome thing for Antonio and I to arrange OUR seating, but we did it. And fortunately, people just keep assuming we're buddies. Well, whatever works.

And further: thank you to whatever gorgeous creature amongst you passed out those masks. They are beautiful We all put ours on and played hide and seek in the courtyard.

[private]

Fuck, Rufus, I miss you so much. You know when people ask sarcastically 'Does it hurt to be that stupid?' Now I can definitively answer, 'YES'. It does fucking hurt. A lot. I guess it's time to swallow my wounded male pride.

Return voicemail to rpg_rufus

ailei@texas.net — Tue, 24 Feb 2004 20:45:59 GMT

*just as brightly* "Sounds like you're painting the town. Just remember the NYPD is not as easy to bribe as the Prague police. I'll catch you sometime soon, I'm sure. Antonio and I are heading to LA tonight. I miss you too!" *click*

[private]

ailei@texas.net — Tue, 24 Feb 2004 15:33:42 GMT

As it turns out, the 'in' is rather a big fucking deal. I am possibly the stupidest man alive. No, not possibly. I think I have the title now. I've earned it.

How bloody embarrassing.

Chat Log, Rufus/Paul

ailei@texas.net — Tue, 24 Feb 2004 15:25:02 GMT

[Players, not pups. Before Rufus leaves for New York with Stephen, some melodramatic truths are revealed.]

Rufus: Rufus pays the cabbie and dashes through the steady drizzle into your block of flats, shaking himself as he waits for the lift. It's been a while since he's been here and he smiles to himself as he exits the lift. He knocks on your door, shifting the bottle of vintage Pol Roger to his other hand and leaning against the jamb.

Paul: Paul opens the door, grinning hugely. "Why do you always turn up here damp? Could it be because this is London?" He moves to the side so you can get in, and mobs you with a tight hug.

Rufus: "At least it isn't snowing." Rufus steps into your hug. "Morning, love. Something smells good." He lifts his head to kiss you. "Hey, careful of the bubbly."

Paul: "Ahh, shame on me." He worms his way under your coat and nips at the base of your throat before pulling back and taking the bottle, gazing upon it appreciatively. "That'll be absolutely perfect, but I doubt it will be sullied with orange juice. Hang up your coat and come make yourself useful."

Rufus: Rufus hums at the nip of teeth and huffs, "I should think not. Orange juice indeed." He grins and hangs his coat on the peg then follows you into the kitchen. "What can I do for you?"

Paul: "You can slice strawberries and drink coffee while I check what's in the oven." He nods to the cutting board where several early strawberries are sitting with a knife, along with a cup of coffee. "I feel this meal should come with some sort of warning regarding heart disease."

Rufus: "I can probably manage that." He drinks the first caffeine of the morning with an appreciative murmur then says, "The best food usually does I find." Rufus picks up the knife and starts efficiently hulling and slicing the luscious fruit.

Paul: "I'd say more than manage." Paul opens the oven door and pulls out the frittata, checking the doneness with a knife and then setting it aside to set completely while he checks the potatoes. "Well, everything's done. I certainly hope you're hungry. When you're done, you want to open the champagne? You know I've got the world's worst aim with a champagne cork."

Rufus: Putting the last sliced strawberry with its fellows, Rufus puts down the knife and rinses off his fingers. "You know me, I'm always hungry." He runs his hand down your back and picks up the champagne, stripping off the foil and unwinding the cage then easing the cork till it slides out with a quiet hiss. "You're too energetic with them, that's your problem."

Paul: "Isn't that half the fun?" Paul smiles over his shoulder as he slices and serves. "I'm well aware of your monstrous, unnatural appetites. You should be ashamed."

Rufus: "Sometimes," Rufus concedes, "except that you also tend to lose some of the wine when it bubbles over." He gets two glasses and puts them on the table. "Ashamed? Me? I have to have some vices."

Paul: "Thank God, otherwise you'd be an insufferable arsehole." Paul puts the plates on the table, then sits. "So, you had a very specific topic of conversation. Best get on with it before we get distracted."

Rufus: Laughing, Rufus pours the champagne, "Where would we be without friends to put us in our place?" He hands a glass to you and sips from his own. "I did. Pain. Though the more I think about it the more I wonder whether it's really a matter of semantics rather than kink." He muses, "Or possibly as well as kink."

Paul: "Like...perhaps there's not a word for pain as it pertains to the sensations masochists feel?" He leans forward, intrigued.

Rufus: "That's it precisely I think." Rufus nods. "I can't get over seeing 'pain' and 'hurt' as things to be avoided. Though I do get that they are just the other end of the sensation continuum." He munches on the frittata, "This is terrific Paul." He waves his fork in exposition, "I like the idea of sensation but I don't like the idea of pain. And I'm assuming that as I explore I'll hit that point where they swap. But you don't seem to."

Paul: He smiles at your enjoyment of his cooking. "I suppose there's two different levels to pain, really. There's the neurochemical reaction that forces you to react to negative stimuli in order to stay alive in dangerous circumstances. Then there's the physical sensation itself. Perhaps a masochist can simply...isolate the two?"

Rufus: Rufus nods, "I'm assuming there must be. Except... I still experience some levels of sensation, pain if you will, as unpleasant." He puts his fork down and leans forward as he gets involved in the discussion. "I haven't got to that level in play, so I may discover that the context is all and I won't experience it as unpleasant..." Rufus looks at you with a thoughtful frown, "So far nothing anyone has done to me has actually hurt." He grins, "Which is good."

Paul: "I have a very hard time saying whether I experience even extreme play as 'pain'. It...It feels like a weird sort of openness, instead. You know that feeling you have after a very hard, very raw fuck? The way you feel open from the inside out?"

Rufus: "Yes. That's more or less what I assumed. Hence you are a masochist, I suppose. I tend to think I'm not, that I'll hit a point where I say, 'no, don't like that thanks'." Rufus smiles at you, "Though I think I may have a fairly high 'pain' threshhold. I will be interesting to see. I like what I've done so far - spanking, a bit with some fairly mild floggers. Actually biting and some fucking have been the most truly painful, and I've loved it."

Paul: "It's an openness on an almost molecular level. Between the endorphins and the sheer rush of denying your body its natural fight or flight response to those kinds of stimuli, it's unbelievably intense. Pain you willingly accept gives you an incredible sense of power, really."

Rufus: Rufus tilts his head and studies you, "Sounds amazing. Personally I can't see myself feeling like that about something that I experience as unpleasant." He pauses, then says, "At least not in an erotic situation. I mean... I can see how it could feel like that but I think I'd still have the issue with it feeling horrible. The horribleness would outweigh the power for me I think." Smiles to himself, thinking that's a whole other discussion. "But I am curious to push it a bit. And I suppose it's a matter of how each individual experiences the various stimuli."

Paul: "Of course." He bites into his potatoes in stilton cream sauce and sighs happily. "There is no truly standard reaction to anything, is there? I mean, if you're making a comedy, you have to accept that some people will miss every joke."

Rufus: "True. It's funny, the question arose for me regarding my partner not so much myself. I have an ingrained urge not to hurt people. And I was asked specifically to do that, to hurt my lover, in an erotic context." Rufus picks up his fork and starts to eat again. "It got me thinking about the words we use. And the fact that the two men in my life both identify as masochists to varying degrees. But I'm damned sure I'm not a sadist, even if the jury's still out on whether I'm a masochist. But I want to give you both what you want."

Paul: "You've never really seen me go that deep, all the way down into head space, have you? I wonder if seeing that, or more specifically seeing ME like that, would affect you in a positive or negative way."

Rufus: Rufus eats in silence for a while. "That's a good question. No. I haven't and I don't know how I'd react. As a general principal I want my lovers to be happy, to be having a good time." He savours the potatoes and smiles, "I'm a sensualist after all. I don't know. It may depend on how much physical damage you were taking. I think that might disturb me. The pain part of it... well, I trust you to not do something you don't like. Which ought to apply to the damage too... but I don't know," he said slowly.

Paul: "It'd be an interesting experiment. I daresay I go deeper on a regular basis than Stephen does...if you were at all curious, I would be very happy to have you witness a scene." He makes the offer, finishing off the first glass of champagne.

Rufus: "I'm sure you do. Thank you, love. That's very generous." He refills your glass and tops up his own. "It's not that much of an issue really, it just had me thinking because it's counter intuitive to me. Unless you want me to watch." He drinks and watches you, "And unless you want us to get more involved in that type of thing." Rufus reaches out and takes your hand, "You know I'll give you whatever I can."

Paul: "Well..." He lifts your hand and kisses the palm, considering. "I cannot tell a lie - I find the idea of you hurting me, really hurting me, incredibly erotic. But I would never ask you to do anything outside your nature, because I *love* you, nature and all. I mean, this would be something we'd have to work out if we were an exclusive couple, but we're not."

Rufus: Rufus shivers at the touch of your mouth on his palm and then links your fingers with his. "I think I could hurt you, beyond what I would enjoy taking I mean. But yes... there would come a point where I wouldn't feel comfortable I think." He tilts his head, "It's an interesting issue. How would you feel about me doing it for you but not actually being aroused by the fact of giving pain? Would that matter? I'd be aroused by giving you what you wanted I should think." He nods, "That's a good point. You can satisfy that part of your nature elsewhere." He strokes his thumb across your knuckles, "I love you too, Paul."

Paul: "It would matter to me, I think. I might feel that I was using you. I would want you to be right there with me, if that makes any sense. It's what makes me feel...safe, I suppose. Secure. I fear this might sound fearfully new age, but there's an energy, dark and beautiful, that throbs between the giver and the receiver that I need."

Rufus: "Hmm, yes. That's what I thought." Rufus continues eating and thinking. "I may be a coward but I think I'm not sorry that we don't have to sort it out. I'd hate you to have to compromise because of me." He realises what he's said and rolls his eyes, "There speaks Rufus the Self Absorbed."

Paul: "Well, while we're on the topic of self-absorption...on some level, I am actually rather sad I will likely never get to give that to you. I suppose I'm like some kind of Pavlov's dog that way. Love equals complete surrender, or some such nonsense."

Rufus: "And you know, there is a part of me that is sorry I'll never give it to you... or receive it from you. For me, love means being able to provide everything the beloved desires. Unreasonable I suppose."

Paul: "No...quite romantic, actually. I wish it worked that way." He takes a long drink of his champagne, avoiding meeting your eyes by the simple expedient of spearing a strawberry on his fork and devouring it.

Rufus: "I've never thought of myself as romantic." Rufus smiles as he watches you and then finishes off his meal. "This is just delicious. As always, love." He starts on the strawberries dropping several slices into his champagne. "No. Life rarely gives us everything we want, precisely the way we want it." He adds dryly, "Regardless of what the advertisers would have you believe."

Paul: "I'm glad you're enjoying it." After his first rather brutal assault, he follows Rufus' lead and submerges some strawberries in his glass. "And I'm sorry, but you are terribly romantic. That Valentine's gift? Ridiculously romantic. Swoony even."

Rufus: Looking quite pleased, Rufus says, "As long as you liked it." He mouths 'swoony' and raises an eyebrow. "Yours was perfect too. I've never done Valentine's Day before. I quite like it I think, if one's got an appropriate object of affection." His eyes sparkle as he rolls out the pompous expression. "Have I told you that Stephen and I are going to visit James and Michael in New York next week?"

Paul: "Yes, swoony, you git. It was...well. And the fact that you picked out the terribly romantic and bumblingly sweet one where they get married and go off to the countryside? Honestly, you're getting sentimental in your old age." He watches the strawberries fall apart. "How long will you be gone, do you think?"

Rufus: "Sentimental. Gosh can't have that." He pops a strawberry into his mouth. "Not that long. I have commitments here in the second week of March, so that's the latest it could be. I feel a bit guilty about Stephen being here for so long, though he had planned an extended holiday even before we met."

Paul: He nods slowly, picking up the glass and drinking slowly. "I suppose I'll survive a couple of weeks left to my own devices. I think Antonio and I might go to LA to visit Gael and Diego. Bit of a rough patch they're going through, and I got rather attached to them that weekend we spent at their place in Mexico."

Rufus: Rufus is watching the bubbles form around the strawberry, twisting his glass to catch the light. He looks up and smiles at you, "Since I think I've worked out both the cell phone and the lap top we will be able to keep in touch. LA?" He sips. "Don't get caught up in the Oscar's mayhem."

Paul: He mumbles, blushing. "Have to go, actually. Bloody film. Bloody nomination. Bloody Hollywood."

Rufus: "Oh God. Of course." Rufus leans over and strokes your cheek. "Poor baby. Still. Gives me a reason to watch and to bitch at everyone."

Paul: He rubs his face against your hand, then turns his face to lick your fingers. "And as we know, snarking is where the true fun lies. Sofa?"

Rufus: "Of course it is. Sofa sounds delightful." He grabs his glass and the bottle as he stands. "At least you'll have warmer weather in LA."

Paul: "True, but that's hardly a huge attraction. Have you seen me sunburned? It's atrocious. They should invent a whole new sunblock rating: 'for pasty faced Brits'." He curls up on one end of the sofa, long legs pulled up under him. "And the less said about the natives the better."

Rufus: "I can imagine," Rufus winces in sympathy. "I'm not so susceptible but I can think of few thing more boring than lying around to get a tan." He sits beside you, one hand resting on your knee. "I do prefer New York myself. Especially since we're staying in Greenwich Village and with a local."

Paul: "That does help a good bit. So...do you think you've picked my masochistic brain about pain as much as you wanted to? I could show you my marks from Vincent." Paul winks. "But I dare say you'd be shocked."

Rufus: "I think you more or less confirmed what I suspected... which is how we always seem to work." He smiles and holds up a restraining hand, "No. Don't show me. I don't think I'd be shocked exactly. I can see why you'd want to do it. I can even see the possibility that I might want a taste myself, but show and tell? Um... probably not."

Paul: "So you're saying you don't plan on seeing me naked today?" He pouts extravagantly. "AND you're going away for who knows how long? I think I'm hurt."

Rufus: "That's not what I meant..." Rufus hurries to reassure you then narrows his eyes suspiciously and growls, "and you know it." He leans closer and kisses you then rests on your shoulder. "Need a proper farewell. Something to last us."

Paul: He makes a low noise and unfolds his legs, gripping your chin and raising it up so that he can claim another kiss, a deeper one, eyes closing intently as he teases your lips apart with his tongue.

Rufus: Rufus lifts his legs onto the sofa and stretches out on you. He opens for your questing tongue and slides his fingers into your hair, squirming against you to get really comfortable.

Paul: His legs wrap around your hips and he wriggles you into juuuuuuuuust the right spot, aligning your cocks and sliding his hands up the back of your shirt, purring contentedly and then moaning a bit at the pain of you lying on the marks Vincent left on his inner thighs. He kisses you like there is nothing in the universe he'd rather be doing, like you're the focus of his world.

Rufus: Sighing into your kiss, Rufus arches as your hands slide up his back. The kiss deepens, drawing Rufus into its own passionate world. "Mmmm, Paul." He murmurs against you lips before plunging in to take command of the kiss.

Paul: You can feel his heart beating in fast thumps against your chest as moans pass from his mouth to yours. He's hard where his cock is pressed alongside yours, hands roving in restless circuits up and down your back, finally resting on your arse, squeezing and pulling you tighter to his body.

Rufus: Rufus rocks his hips so that your cocks nudge against each other. He tenses his muscles as your hands grip him, his own hands move to frame your face and he lifts his head to smile down at you. Then he shimmies down, tugging at your pulls up you shirt so he can kiss and nip at your flat stomach.

Paul: The muscles quiver under your touch and he mewls, arching up into your mouth as his fingers return (as they always seem to) to your wild dark curls, tugging and stroking through them. "Rufus..." His voice is low and a little forlorn.

Rufus: Rufus rests his cheek on your belly and looks up, fingers stroking along your sharp hip bone. "Yes, love?" Your tone snags his attention and he raises onto his elbows looking up at you questioningly. He bends to rub his lips over the oh so soft skin, "What would you have of me?"

Paul: "I. I don't know if I can do this right now." He's trembling beneath you, hard and arching up to you, hungry and needy and sweet, but his eyes are oddly shuttered.

Rufus: "Paul?" His voice is questioning, concerned. He knows you so well and there's something not right here. "Love? What's wrong?" Rufus looks at you then sits up and gathers you into his lap.

Paul: He folds up into your lap, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. "I don't think I should tell you."

Rufus: Rufus wraps one arm around you and starts stroking you hair with the other, setting up a steady rhythm. A slight smile crosses his lips at your words but they worry him a little too. "Well, if it's something private ... that's up to you, but if it's something I can help you with..." He rests his cheek on your head now. "If it's something I've done..."

Paul: "No, nothing you've done. It's something that would be just purely selfish of me to talk about with you, and I care too much about you to be so fucking self-centred." He shivers and clings to you, hands fisted into your shirt.

Rufus: Beginning to be truly worried now, Rufus hugs you tight against him. Since he is concerned that he has somehow caused you distress he's relieved that you are still clinging to him. "Paul, if it makes you feel like this then perhaps it's time you were a bit self-centred." He presses his mouth to your temple. "I can't bear to see you like this. Let me help you, love."

Paul: "You can't help. It's just something I've realised, and that I have to let settle inside me." He turns on your lap to face you, arms burrowing around your waist as he lays his head on your chest. "You don't need to know. You probably already DO know."

Rufus: Confused, Rufus continues to pet you, offering what comfort he can. "Are you sure I can't help?" He tries to see your face but you've turned it down and into his chest. "Please let me help you." It seems to be something related to him, Rufus begs, "What is it, Paul? What do I already know?" His mind is racing, trying to work out what's wrong.

Paul: "Gah." He beats his forehead against the side of your face in exasperation. "You twit. I'm in love with you."

Rufus: "You're..." Rufus' eyes widen and his mouth drops open in an almost comical expression of confused surprise. "I know. Why does that..." And then it hits him. "But what about Antonio?" Stunned, his thoughts skitter in a dozen directions.

Paul: He watches the expression on your face, eyes narrowed. "See, this is why I'm so confused. Now you feel my pain, and I was TRYING to cope without that."

Rufus: Rufus meets your eyes, his own bewildered. "No. Paul. You don't have to protect me. Not at your own expense." He is still holding you. "I ... I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think." His arms tighten in case you try to slip away. "And you most certainly don't have to cope on your own, love. No matter how dense I've been."

Paul: He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "It's my problem, Rufus. I have Antonio, you have Stephen, and the fact that I couldn't keep my heart where it belongs is irrelevant, really."

Rufus: His hand is rubbing firm circles on you back. "Is it a problem? I mean..." He tries to sort out the questions clamouring to get out, "fuck... I don't know what to... Paul. I love you, you know that." He wants to ask just what exactly you mean by 'in love' but he's afraid that will sound as though he's downplaying your emotions.

Paul: "I know you love me, baby." He closes his eyes, not sure what reaction he'd been wanting, or even if he had any idea what to expect. "And no, it's not anyone's problem but mine. We don't have to change a thing about the way we are. I'm not asking you for anything." His fair head rests on your shoulder, face close to your chest so he doesn't have to school his expressions quite so much.

Rufus: Concerned and confused he presses his lips to your hair and takes a leap, "I'm sorry. I know I'm not being very helpful or even... What do you want, love?" Rufus is unconsciously rocking as he holds you. "What can I do? You're so important to me, you and Stephen, both... in different ways but I love you both so much."

Paul: "There's nothing, love. Not a thing you can do to fix this. I know you belong to Stephen, and I belong to Antonio, and you and I need to be thankful for the time we have together." His stomach is in knots where he's pressing his body up against you, wishing he'd never opened his mouth. You could be getting fucked right now, you moron.

Rufus: "But does anything need to be fixed?" Rufus responds to your tension and hugs you tight. "All right... I'm going to have one of my 'Rufus is an idiot' moments here. So stop me if I'm making things worse. But I'm never really sure I know what people mean when they say they are IN love." You are perhaps the only person he could say that to other than Stephen. "I love you. I want you in my life. I miss you when we're apart. I trust you, Paul. I desire you." His voice fades away.

Paul: "I can tell you what *I* mean by it." He bites his lip and pushes back to meet your eyes. "I mean that I feel the need to build something with you, something more than meeting once a week for sex. I mean that if it weren't for Stephen and Antonio I would blissfully wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives. I mean that I am in love with you. Romantically. With hearts and fucking flowers."

Rufus: He holds your gaze as you speak, nodding slowly. "Oh God, Paul." This time he drops his head to your shoulder. "I... yes, I think that if I'd never met Stephen and you'd never met Antonio we'd probably be a couple now." Rufus looks back up at you, his eyes troubled. "And I think we'd be happy but... I'm not sorry I met Stephen." He shakes his head, "I feel so stupid... not noticing," and sighs, "I don't know what to say."

Paul: "There's nothing TO say. That's what I've been trying to get through to you. Now you know, and it does no one any good, now does it? I need to settle it inside myself." Paul slides off your lap and starts pacing the living room, body tight and tense and a bit defensive. "And now I've had to make it into a vulgar bloody display."

Rufus: "All right. Yes. I'm sorry I'm trying to help." Rufus snaps then puts his hand over his eyes. "Shit. Paul. That was..." He leans forward. "Yes, it does some good. It was hurting you. Okay, we can't 'make it better' but I want to... I don't know... help you, support you, share the load." He makes a vague gesture. "And you haven't made a 'vulgar display'." He watches you pace. "I love you. And I'm your friend as well as anything else... you can be as vulgar and emotional as you like with me, love."

Paul: He stops pacing in front of you, eyes flashing a bit angrily. "Shouldering burdens and sharing loads? You make it sound like it's some sort of...lunacy on my part that you have to deal with. It was hard saying that. It was really *fucking* hard saying that. I want to give you so much, but there's no TIME, and I want to make something beautiful with you, but we missed our CHANCE."

Rufus: "No!" Rufus looks up at you, wavering between annoyance and concern. "Never that. I'm sorry. I put that badly. I don't think that at all. And I KNOW it was hard for you." His guilt is pushing his annoyance toward anger. You are towering over him and he stands. "I want you to have everything you want. I'd love you to give it all to me." He picks up his discarded glass and drains it, then refills it and takes another gulp. "I'm missing all that too." He stalks over to the window and stares out for a moment then turns back to look at you. "I want what I can have with you."

Paul: "Then we're in agreement!" He literally throws up his hands. "So why are we pissed?!"

Rufus: It's such a Paul moment, Rufus raises an amused eyebrow. "No idea, love." He comes back and wraps himself around you, laying his head on your shoulder. There are so many things he'd like to ask but that would mean delving into areas that seem to be marked 'off limits' at the moment. Softly he dares to ask, "You are happy with Antonio, aren't you?"

Paul: "I love him," he answers firmly. "And yes, I'm happy. Sometimes I worry that we aren't as compatible as we could be, but..." He shrugs. "Sometimes I ache for you. I want you, and not anyone else in the whole world. Those are not the easiest moments."

Rufus: "Oh, Paul." He tightens his hold. "I'll always be here for you." He puts his fingers to your lips to stop the reply. "I know that's not enough sometimes. I suppose I'm more of a fatalist than you." It seems unkind to add that he feels completely compatible with Stephen. "When I'm missing you I know that we'll be together soon."

Paul: "Rufus," he shakes his head, pulling away. "I'm sorry. I just feel a little freakish and weird right now. Like I'm about to vibrate out of my skin. This is not what I wanted. I didn't want to say this. I didn't want this to happen."

Rufus: He lets you move away, watching closely. "And I'm not helping." He nods sadly. "I'm sorry that you are feeling... off... about this, about us. I need to think." He rubs his brow, "There are things I need to sort out in my head. I'm selfish... in some ways I'm glad you told me. I just wish there was a way to have it all." He smiles wryly, "I should go I suppose. Let you get your equilibrium back. Try and find mine."

Paul: "I'm sorry." He wraps his arms around his waist. "I wanted this to be a good day for us, before you left." White teeth sink into his lower lip as he moves out from between you and the door.

Rufus: "I'm glad I saw you before I left." Rufus is trying for a lighter tone but it doesn't quite work. "I'll have my electronic gadgets with me so we can keep in touch." He looks into your eyes, his smile sad but loving. "Paul... don't blow this up into something worse than it is." He retrieves his coat. "I'll see you when I get back. I love you." It feels so odd, this distance between you.

Paul: "Wait." Paul springs into motion, crossing the room and letting his momentum carry him right up against you, pressing you back to the door and claiming your mouth in a bruising, hot, deep kiss, tongue licking deep and fucking against yours.

Rufus: Your body lands on Rufus', pressing him hard against the door. He opens to your kiss, sucking your tongue into his mouth and meeting it with his own. One hand clenches in your hair, the other is stroking your back. He pulls back at last and murmurs, "Thank you, love." Then even softer, "We'll work this out," and holds you for a moment longer.

Paul: "There's nothing to work out. Have fun in New York." He stands back, arms folded across his chest again. "I'll call you."

Rufus: Rufus looks at you and frowns. "Why won't you let me in? You say you're in love with me. I know you love me." His voice is rising and the tone is sharpening. "And I love you but I don't KNOW whether I'm in love with you." He turns and stares blankly across the room. "Perhaps I am. All I know right now is that I am in love with Stephen and what I feel for you is different. But I don't know how or how much or what it means." He turns and slowly paces toward you till he's almost toe to toe. "And I try to tell you that I need to sort myself out and.... Fuck it Paul, you go cold and dismissive on me."

Paul: "Trust me, Rufus, the last thing I am right now is cold." His whole tightly-wound body trembles. "I am fucking trying to let you leave before I go even more insane on you. I need to calm down before Antonio gets home, and you need to get ready for your trip."

Rufus: His eyes half close as he looks at you and weighs up the situation. After a rather tense minute he nods somewhat reluctantly. "All right." He kisses your cheek softly and steps away. "If you don't call I'll come and find you, you know." He shrugs on his coat as he opens the door and teases, "Enjoy the Oscars, love."

Paul: "Brat." He gives you a half-smile. "I'll blow a kiss to you on the fucking red carpet."

Rufus: Rufus grins and pokes his tongue out at you as he heads for the lift.

Chat Log, bettany/vincent_cassel, Thursday, 20 February

ailei@texas.net — Fri, 20 Feb 2004 14:55:41 GMT

[Players, not pups. What? Paul a slut? I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.]

Paul: Paul is right on time at the Est, dressed casually in jeans, doc maartens, and a dark red jumper.

Vincent: Vincent is leaning against the bar, hip cocked out, smiling brightly as he sips his drink through a tiny straw. He's dressed in dark brown trousers and a cream coloured button-down shirt, brown leather boots on his feet. "Mon ami!" He grins widely when he sees you.

Paul: "Vincent!" Paul grins back, hugging you tightly, careful of your drink. "You look delicious. And you've quite managed to pique my interest."

Vincent: "Wonderful!" he kisses one cheek then the other, squeezing an arm around your shoulders. "Hm, well now how else was I to get your attention?" His eyes are sparkling with mischief.

Paul: "You needn't have resorted to such drastic measures. A simple 'hey, you, dinner tonight!' would have worked just fine. Food and sex work equally well." He nods sagely, winding his arm around your waist. "So what are you going to unleash upon my poor unsuspecting arse today? Or is it a surprise still?"

Vincent: "Oh no, how could I keep you in such suspense?" He returns his empty glass to the bar and reaches inside his jacket, laying across the barstool. He withdraws a long, thin, leather case, about half a metre long and a few inches wide, then lays it across the bar and leans back, smirking and waiting for you to open it.

Paul: "Should I be offended that all my friends buy things to beat the daylights out of me with?" Paul's eyes glint as he opens the case, suspecting what must be inside.

Vincent: "Offended? No, mon ami, you should be delighted that we all think highly enough of your sweet little ass to find new ways of decorating it." The case contains a wicked looking switch, Deep brown and springy, like a conductor's baton. Vincent moves to stand close behind you, lowering his voice and leaning up against your body. "Think of all the delicious little marks I could leave with that. Are you interested love?"

Paul: Leaning back into your chest, he shivers happily and murmurs, "Oh, oui. Very very interested. In fact, I'm downright intrigued."

Vincent: "Then I am glad I had the foresight to reserve a room." He nuzzles up under your ear, sucking the lobe between his lips. "Shall we mon ami?"

Paul: "Please...I think I got hard when I saw the case." He turns and nuzzles against your lips, then gives you a brief but thorough kiss. "Lead the way?"

Vincent: Vincent laughs softly and takes the case, twining his fingers with yours, leading you to the lift and up to the room. It's rather plain considering this is the Est, but there are eyebolts situated in the walls at strategic heights, and a simple toy chest near a full length mirror. He stops and turns around, dropping the case on the bed, taking both of your wrists in his hands. "Has anything changed since the last time we were together my sweet?"

Paul: "No, Sir," he answers, casting his eyes downward. "Nothing at all." His heart starts beating faster, and he feels himself become simultaneously more relaxed and more excited.

Vincent: "Good." Softly, fingers squeezing tighter. "I want you to undress for me, slowly. I want to see your body revealed an inch at a time. When you have finished, kneel and present." He releases your wrists and sits back in one of the high-backed chairs in the room.

Paul: "Yes, Sir." He smiles sweetly, eyes still on the floor, and slowly pulls his jumper off over his head, folding it and laying it aside neatly. He bends his long body over to untie and remove his boots and socks. The belt follows, thick leather sliding from the frayed denim. Then Paul unbuttons and unzips his jeans, sliding them slowly, provocatively, *teasingly* over his hips and down his willowy legs.

Vincent: Vincent grins, elbows on the arm rests, long, delicate fingers folded in front of him. "Mmm, how delightful."

Paul: His cock is hard, standing up proudly from a nest of dark blonde curls. When he's completely naked, he drops down onto his knees and laces his fingers behind his neck, opening his body for your examination.

Vincent: He sighs and studies you for a moment. "Stand and turn Paul." His voice is soft, but it's definitely an order. "I think you will always amaze me with your... beauty, in your willingness to serve."

Paul: Getting to his feet, he turns, keeping his hands behind his neck. "May I speak, Sir?"

Vincent: "Please do."

Paul: "It is a great pleasure to serve you, Sir. How could I not be willing?"

Vincent: "There are those who are willing to serve, and those who 'shine' at doing so. You, my friend, are the latter." He stands and walks over, trailing his fingers along the small of your back, swatting your ass for emphasis. "Fetch me a paddle to warm this soft skin, and if you feel you will need it, something to bind your cock and balls. I do not want you to come until I give you permission."

Paul: "Thank you, Sir." Without being told, Paul drops back to his knees and crawls over to the toychest, fetching the sternest looking paddle he can find, but skipping the restraints. He crawls over to you, offering you the paddle in his mouth.

Vincent: He crouches down and takes it in hand, then threads his fingers in your hair and yanks your head up, claiming your lips in a deep, bruising kiss.

Paul: His lips part at once, accommodating your tongue and moaning wantonly as it penetrates his mouth, suckling it hungrily.

Vincent: He pulls back with a bit of a grin and returns to his chair. "Come here mon ami" He pats his lap, motioning he wants you bent over.

Paul: Still crawling, he comes to you and drapes himself over your lap, thighs spread, ridiculously long legs trying to fit properly.

Vincent: He chuckles and has you lean over one arm of the chair and across his lap, letting your head hang down. When he finally has you situated so you won't slip he starts to brings the paddle down across your ass. Quick, strong, smacks all over the creamy skin. He hums in contentment, then moves to your thighs, just warming you up.

Paul: Fair, delicate skin pinks quickly, but he's moaning with each thwack, melting into your lap. You can feel his body relaxing, bending to your will, to the pain you're giving him.

Vincent: He has to stop and run his hands over the sweet curve of your ass, smiling at the warmth under his fingers. "Ready to begin now sweet?"

Paul: "Oh, yes, Sir. Please, Sir." His body quivers as he anticipates the first blow, quite sure it's going to be excruciating.

Vincent: "I have an idea." He motions you up then takes your hand and leads you over to the bed. "Spread your thighs and lean down on the bed." He retrieves two thick leather straps for your thighs, then two for your wrists, connecting them together so your arms are bound down against your legs. He quickly positions a floor length mirror behind you and another across the other side of the bed. "You will be able to each beautiful lash as I make it." Vincent takes his tine drawing out the switch and then drags it down along your spine, letting it trail down across your twitching little pucker.

Paul: "Ahhh, yes, SIR." His eyes widen as he sees the mirror, and he cocks his head curiously, mewling as the switch teases across his opening.

Vincent: He splays his palm against your lower back and taps the switch against your skin, then brings it down rather hard. A single wicked blow right across one cheek.

Paul: There's no use in hiding his cries or trying to hold them in. Paul shudders, a livid red welt coming up in the switch's wake, his mouth opening on a harsh little howl.

Vincent: "Ooh, now that is beautiful mon ami." he leans down and traces his tongue along the welt, then blows gently across the skin. The second lash is parallel to the first, but on the other side. It's just as wicked and he once again leans down to lave his tongue over the hot skin before blowing gently across the wet trail.

Paul: His prick throbs hotly where it's pressed against his belly, precome smearing from the tip onto the untouched pale skin. "Oooh...oh, Sir..." he's crooning softly now, transported, rubbing his face against the duvet.

Vincent: He slides it down along the back of your right thigh, just under the restraint. "Brace yourself sweet." He taps the skin lightly, then brings the switch down three times in rapid succession, one welt right above the next.

Paul: Paul yowls, sobbing at the intensity, but so deep in his own head that it registers as purely intense pleasure. It's only by long training and sheer force of will that he keeps from coming during the third one.

Vincent: "You are doing so beautifully Paul, look up into the mirror mon ami." He slides his tongue along the three welts, cooling them with his breath.

Paul: His glassy eyes focus on the angry red marks, and he smiles blearily. "Thank you, Sir."

Vincent: "I think some more... right over here." He taps the skin on the back of your other thigh then lays his hand once again on your lower back. "Do not come sweet." He taps the switch a few times, then brings it down, once, twice, three times, one after another. Vincent watches with fascination as your skin welts up so beautifully.

Paul: His cries go low, throaty, primal as his skin twitches under the stinging assault. This is the sort of superficial pain that seems to hurt the most - deeper thudding pain is so much easier to bear.

Vincent: He licks along the new welts then blows across the brutalized skin. "Three more my sweet, you may come on the last one." Softly. He taps the switch right across the curve of your ass, down low, across your cleft. The first comes down harder then the others did, and he pauses, just enough for you to tense, then brings down the next and finally the third.

Paul: Paul screams and comes brutally hard, sobbing and shaking as his untouched cock spurts over his belly and the bed, head thrashing from side to side as he arches up right into the last three, eager for them.

Vincent: "Mon ami, mon belle ami." He murmurs and drops the switch on the bed. HIs tongue finds the welts, breath feeling cold against your wet skin. "Still with me Paul?" You can feel his hand sliding down over your cleft, slick fingers brushing at your little pucker gently, breeching you, opening your body to him.

Paul: He shudders at your voice, nodding shakily. "Yes, Sir, I'm right here." His passage is hot and hungry around your fingers, opening so very easily, pulsing tight then relaxing. "Please, please fuck me, Sir."

Vincent: "Ohh sweet, I intend to." He removes his fingers and strips down as quickly as he can. His cock is aching, purple and dripping against his belly. Vincent unwraps and slips on a condom, then grabs your hips and presses inside your tight little channel, long drawn out moans falling from his lips.

Paul: Restless hands move vainly in the restraints as Paul cries out your name, cock twitching, stimulated again so very soon after orgasm, trying to get hard for you agian.

Vincent: Vincent has to take a few deep breaths to avoid coming right then and there. "I had nearly forgotten just how wonderful you felt Paul." He digs his fingers into your hips as he glides in and out of your body, his skin feel cool when it brushes against your heated thighs and ass. "Mon ami, this will be over too soon I fear."

Paul: "We...ahh...we can do it again, Sir," he mewls, squirming as you bottom out against his welts and your cockhead rubs over his prostate.

Vincent: He chuckles and presses down against your shoulders, heavy, seed swollen balls slapping against yours every time he bottoms out. "Christ Paul." He gasps and jerks frantically, pounding into your sweet, tight heat. "Ahhhhh Paul!" He cries out the last, cock pulsing and filling you with hot, sticky seed.

Paul: Mmm, that feeling of balls striking his is so incredibly erotic, hot and male and sweaty and GOOD, and he relishes every moment of it. He's half-hard by the time you spend yourself within him. "Ah, fuck, Sir, yes yes...use me, fill me up."

Vincent: He moans and staggers just a little after he slides out of your body. Vincent unclasps the cuffs, leaving them on thighs and wrists, but giving you free movement. "On your back, thighs spread Paul."

Paul: His own knees go unsteady once your solid, bracing presence at his back is gone. Paul groans his assent and crawls up onto the bed, mewling as his welts touch the duvet and spreading his sore, hurting thighs wide for you.

Vincent: He crawls up between your thighs, sweat-slicked and panting softly. His tongue slides over his lips and he takes the switch in hand. He presses your thighs wide open and starts to tap it one the inside of one thigh then the other. His eyes lock on yours, all fire and pride. "Do not come." He starts to tap harder, just flicking the leather smartly against the tender skin. Quick little spikes of pain, followed by blossoms of heat.

Paul: "Oh GOD!" He whimpers, cock going full hard again as he thrusts up into the air, legs parting wider, trying to get MORE. His hands start to reach up for you, then drop and fist into the bedclothes.

Vincent: He smiles widely and continues the maddening little strikes. "Hold your gorgeous prick out of the way for me love."

Paul: Paul gathers his aching cock and balls up in one large, delicate hand and forces them sideways, flat along his hip and out of the way of his lower belly and uppermost thighs. His blue eyes are dark and spacey, endorphins flooding his blood.

Vincent: The switch comes down hard, once on the inside of each thigh, then he lays his hand over yours, squeezing until you settle once again. Vincent slides your hand up a little, releasing your heavy sac to hang back between your thighs. He looks up into your eyes and flashes you a smile. "So beautiful Paul." He taps the switch against your swollen sac, again sharp, quick little stings across the sensitive skin.

Paul: He screams, holding himself almost painfully still for the pain you're giving him, tears starting to run down his cheeks as his entire body tenses toward a denied orgasm.

Vincent: "So perfect..." He murmurs, dropping the switch, looking down into your eyes. "You may come now." Softly, wrapping his fingers around your prick and leaning down to suckle the purpled glans into his mouth, tongue flicking against the little slit..

Paul: "Please, Sir, please, inside me first?" He's reaching down and scrabbling at your shoulders, insatiable little brat that he is.

Vincent: He laughs quietly and nips his teeth on the thin flap of foreskin. "Not this time brat, I want to taste you."

Paul: Paul shudders and gives up the ghost coming again as hard as the first time, harder, arching up into your mouth and crying out your name.

Vincent: Vincent hums in pleasure and swallows, using fingers and tongue to wrench out every last ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body.

Paul: Paul lies there shaking after, finally coming down a little. "God, Vincent...that bloody hurt, you bastard." He manages a weak, feral grin.

Vincent: "Oui and you loved every moment of it." He purrs and crawls up to claim your lips in a fevered, demanding kiss.

Paul: "Oui, I certainly did." He cants a hip up and pushes you onto your back. "I get a taste, too." Starting at your nipple, he sucks and licks and lightly bites a path down toward your cock.

Vincent: "Ahhh fuck Paul." His cock twitches, half-hard where it lays against his thigh.

Paul: "Mmm..." his eyes, heavy and sated and dark blue, devour your prick long before his tongue laves it from base to tip, patiently, over and over.

Vincent: It doesn't take him long to become hard again, hips swaying gently up against your tongue. "Oooh Paul..." Murmured as he twines his fingers in your short hair.

Paul: His mouth closes over the head of your cock, gathering precome then sliding down until he's taken you all the way inside. He tightens his throat around your length, then begins a slow, languid up and down motion.

Vincent: He moans and sinks down into the duvet, hips moving in a languid rhythm. "So good mon ami."

Paul: Paul moans happily. He so enjoys pleasuring people he cares for, and he's determined to take his time, making it as good as he knows how.

Vincent: Vincent sighs contentedly, carding his fingers through your hair, feeling the slow waves of pleasure building in his belly. There was no hurry, or frenzied touches. He had time to look down into his lover's beautiful blue eyes. Time to touch him, and smile and encourage him without words at all.

Paul: His mouth moves in hungry circuits, blonde head bobbing up and down as his fingers encircle your balls and squeeze them, then massage gently.

Vincent: His prick grows hard against your tongue, drops of bitter-sweet precome trickling against your tongue. "Yessss, oh God Paul! Yes." He arches his back, pushing his hips up, fingers sliding down to clench at the duvet, twisting the expensive fabric between white knuckled fingers.

Paul: His thumb presses into your perineum, as he rakes his teeth lightly up your prick, letting them catch at the frenum and press in deep.

Vincent: Vincent inhales a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Almost sweet, so close."

Paul: He suckles harder, faster, urging you to the brink now, hungry to see you come apart under his touch.

Vincent: HIs breath hitches, eyes flutter closed and he arches up sharply under you. "Fuck, oooh fuck PAUL!" He keens your name as his body shudders and gives in to your demands. His eyes fly open, cock twitching against your tongue just before he comes, spurting thick, ropey seed into your throat.

Paul: Paul swallows gratefully, then nuzzles at your spent cock before crawling gingerly up lay his head on your chest, feeling the soreness seeping through every muscle in his body and thoroughly loving it.

Vincent: Vincent leans down and presses a kiss against your hair then wraps his arms around you. "How are you doing sweet?"

Paul: "Mmm, ow. Very good ow. Thank you, Vincent." Paul snuggles up close, carefully laying one long leg over your hips and grimace-laughing when the welts come into contact with your body. "Did I please you?"

Vincent: "Oooh Paul, you are exquisite. You always please me mon ami, this time you made me proud." Softly. He strokes his fingers down your flank. "Would you like something for the pain my sweet?"

Paul: "Ohh, I don't think so. It's quite lovely." He laughs, capturing your fingers and kissing the tips. "Believe it or not, Antonio frets over you marking me because he doesn't know you. I tried to tell him that I know you better than he thinks I do." Pause. "Did that sentence make ANY sense?"

Vincent: He laughs. "Coming from anyone else I would have been confused, but from you... perfect sense."

Paul: "Oh, thank goodness. So how goes things with your lovely ladies? Is poor Monica besieged by the whole Passion of Christ nonsense?"

Vincent: "Uuuh, please.. do not ruin my afterglow." He chuckles. "I have rarely seen my wife so angry, I am just happy it is not directed toward me. I desire to keep all my anatomy right where it is."

Paul: "Sorry, mate. I can imagine she's about lost her patience with it all. Not that she strikes me as a terribly temperate woman to begin with." He grins.

Vincent: "You have no idea. My belle is the sweetest thing you would ever lay eyes on, but heaven help you if you piss her off."

Paul: "I know a few people like that." His smile turns a bit sly - it could very well apply to him and he knows it. "How is the whole threesome dynamic working out?"

Vincent: "I think it is a wonderful arrangement. My belle and her kitten are so beautiful together. They do things together that I truthfully have little interest in... shopping comes to mind, quite painfully actually." He grins.

Paul: "And it leaves you free to pursue things *they* have little interest in, like whipping the tar out of stinky boys. Sounds quite idyllic. Wonder if I could make a go of such a thing?"

Vincent: "Exactly. I do not know mon ami, but I could certainly keep you chained and whipped for days on end."

Paul: "As enticing as that sounds, luv, I think my love life is complicated enough in its current state." He nips at your collarbone and presses his belly up against your side. "And I don't know...Rufus has said he doesn't think he could do a full on threesome, and of course I don't know if Antonio and he could make a proper start of it romantically, and good GOD how vulgar of me would it be to try and arrange all this just to make MYSELF happy?"

Paul: "And, well, there's his Stephen as well. Trust me to skip that part."

Vincent: He chuckles. "You live a regular soap opera life my friend. I do not envy you. I have my belle, her kitten, and my beautiful friend who let's me beat the stuffing out of him on occasion. What more to life is there?"

Paul: "I used to say such things, too. I used to think I couldn't possibly want more than my simple, hedonistic existance. Hmph."

Vincent: "You sound regretful." Softly, arms tightening around you.

Paul: "No...I mean, I wouldn't trade Antonio for any amount of simplicity, and, as wretched as this whole thing with Rufus is making me feel, I can't quite manage to be upset that it happened. I suppose if I have any regrets it's that Rufus and I weren't in the same place at the same time long enough for all this to happen while we were both actually free. But that wasn't the way things were, and now we live with the realities we have. And it's not like they're bad realities." Good God, Paul can blather when he's worried or stressed or anxious.

Vincent: Vincent strokes your shoulder and back then lifts your chin. "Look at me sweet. I am here if you need me. To talk, or hold, or beat you black and blue. I can not tell you what to do, I can not even offer advice, I have no experience with what you are living." He smiles.

Paul: His expressive mouth twists in a wry little smile. "Thanks, mon ami. I don't expect advice, it just feels good to say it to someone."

Vincent: "I certainly don't mind hearing all the juicy affairs of your life." He grins and presses his lips against your brow.

Paul: "Sadly, you seem ridiculously happy and uncomplicated, so I suspect that my offer to do the same for you would largely be an empty gesture."

Vincent: "Oh well, the beating black and blue part may be negotiable."

Paul: "I don't know how good I would be at giving quite that much pain. I might want to find out some day."

Vincent: "Mm I would be open to it, we can discuss it all at length, but not now." He snuggles down and rests his chin on top of your head. "Now, you are going to nap, and so am I, then I am going to take my own sweet time and investigate each and every one of those beautiful marks with my lips and tongue."

Paul: "That sounds lovely." He smiles, content, and relaxes utterly against you, one hand fisted on your chest, the other curled up against his side. Now that the adrenaline's worn off he IS rather exhausted.

[private]

ailei@texas.net — Wed, 18 Feb 2004 13:32:52 GMT

A million dollars U.S. Wow. That's the sort of number you don't quibble with. It's overwhelmingly generous. It's just flat out overwhelming. But then, that word is Antonio in a nutshell, isn't it? Nothing, no one can stand against his charisma and his force of will. A simple man he may be, but in that simplicity he finds incredible focus and drive to get what he wants.

I've been told before that I have a very strong will of my own that manifests as everything from mulish stubbornness to flirtatious persuasion. But Antonio makes me feel so weak sometimes. I guess this is all part of having a Master. Having a partner who is both lover and Master is very different for me, admittedly. Puts one a bit off balance. On the whole, I'm very glad we haven't adopted a full master/slave relationship. Frankly, I think I finally know for certain that that lifestyle isn't for me. I think that my personality only allows me to submit so completely during scenes because I'm terribly independent the rest of the time. Good thing to get figured out about oneself, I suppose.

It's been a trick, figuring out all the roiling emotions that have been scalding through my belly over the past few months. Antonio swept me off my feet so thoroughly I couldn't even think, and Rufus crept in quietly and curled up in his undemanding way. Now I have not one but two men I'm crazy in love with, and the fact that I can have both (but Rufus only to a point) strangely makes things even more complex.

All Rufus and I needed was a little time together in the same city for our relationship to deepen from a comfortable, friendly sort of love to something entirely deeper and more unsettling. I realize that am in love with him, now, and I fear that I'm doing a terrible job hiding it and an even worse job dealing with it. I'm not even sure he gets that things have changed between us. What am I saying? This is Rufus, of course he hasn't. Hmph.

But what do these changes mean? I really wish I weren't so histrionic by nature. How Rufus would laugh, watching me work myself up over something basically, can't be changed. Or helped. Or fixed. He doesn't want to leave Stephen. I don't want to leave Antonio. So I'll just have to figure out a way to include Rufus, to make time for him, no matter what.

It has not escaped my notice that on the surface Rufus and I are a ridiculously compatible couple, far more so than Antonio and I seem to be. However, Antonio is the perfect complement to me, strong where I am weak, weak where I am strong (metaphorically speaking of course - no one could ever describe either of us as weak people). A good combination of high passions and solid Englishness.

Ah, well. There's marketing and laundry to be done. Maundering will have to wait.

While Antonio showers Saturday,

ailei@texas.net — Sun, 15 Feb 2004 17:01:50 GMT

Paul leaves these on the dresser:

A tape, bearing the handwritten label Funny how we both had music on our minds this Valentine's. I've been taking lessons. The tape is Paul playing flamenco-style guitar.

An embossed, 100% recycled envelope written on with soybean ink, containing a card. After much consultation with one Javier Banderas, I have secured us one night at El Mesón De la Flor Del Escarlata in Marbella, Espana, as well as the services of any of the lovely ladies in its employ that might strike your fancy. Time to live out some of those juvenile fantasies.

Rufus/Paul, Monday 2/9

ailei@texas.net — Sun, 15 Feb 2004 15:21:34 GMT

[players, not pups]

Rufus: The Establishment foyer was buzzing with people coming and going but Rufus was pleased to see that the bar was still fairly quiet with just a scattering of early drinkers. He didn't see Paul so he headed over to get a pint. He draped his jacket over one bar stool and leaned on a second to wait, taking a swig and looking around to see if anyone he knew was in the place.

Paul: Paul grins the whole taxi ride to the Est, then gets out and checks his coat - he figures he's here for the night. He's wearing low-slung black trousers, and a dark blue patterned velvet shirt that makes his eyes glow. Impatient, he winds his way through all the people, and looks for Rufus in the bar. When he finds him, he waves, towering over most of the people around.

Rufus: Rufus smiles as he sees you and returns your wave before gesturing to the barman to bring another pint. He straightens to greet you with a fierce hug and a lingering kiss. He pushes the second pint glass toward you. 'I know I always say this... It seems like ages. Good to see you, love.'

Paul: He hums into your kiss, reluctant to let you go long enough to speak. "And here we talk on the phone most days. But you're right...it always feels absolutely like forever." Picking up the pint, he takes a long, satisfied drink, then moves to stand behind you, pressing up against your back and laying his head on your shoulder.

Rufus: Leaning back against you, Rufus sighs contentedly. "This place is a godsend. I'd hate to have to meet somewhere we couldn't be affectionate." He grins and rubs his cheek against yours, "And my agent has threatened all sorts of hideous things if I start frequenting gay bars.... like making me take her to premiers and awards." That reminds him, "Hey. Congrats for the BAFTA nod, mate. You fucking deserve it."

Paul: His hand strokes in circles on your lower belly. "Thanks, love. I'm probably more excited than I ought to be." He kisses the side of your neck, nipping lightly. "I know what's going on in your life, but what I want to know is..what does your little heart desire of me tonight?" His voice is low, rough, silky in your ear.

Rufus: "Don't be silly. It's good publicity and it'll be fun I should think." Rufus thinks about it, "You know... I'd like to sit and have a drink and I do have a room booked." He turns his head to smirk at you. "Come over here and talk to me for a bit, Paul." He grabs his jacket, calls for another round and leads you to an empty booth.

Paul: Paul scoots into the booth, pressing up alongside you like a clinging vine. "Mmm. How are things with you and Stephen, then?"

Rufus: "Good." Rufus grins at you and runs his hand down your thigh then back up letting his fingers creep steadily lower and deeper between your legs. "That wasn't exactly the type of 'talk' I had in mind." He drinks then turns to lick around the curl of you're ear. "Haven't I ever told you that I have a thing about public places?"

Paul: "Oooh, the best sort of talk, then." He gasps and wriggles closer still. "I seem to remember we had that conversation in Prague. Or maybe that was just a wank fantasy I had about you once."

Rufus: "Yeah. Prague..." He chuckles and keeps fondling you, getting a fraction closer to your groin on each upward slide. "We talked about so much. We DID so much. That was a cheat though, most of the locals couldn't understand enough English to be dangerous." He nuzzles and nips at your neck. "And if we're getting into wank fantasies... I had this recurring one that featured long, pale legs and a brocade armchair."

Paul: "About a year ago I had a spectacular fantasy about you and a room so dark all I could see was the glint of your pretty eyes." His breathing quickens as he hardens for you, hips moving subtly under the table. "What sorts of things do you like to do in public, love?"

Rufus: "In real public... the sort that gets you into the tabloids... I love to talk about what I want and tease and flirt with danger." He smiles slowly and runs a fingertip firmly along your cock, "In somewhere like this..." His fingers settle over you and squeeze gently. He hums, squirming a little, "I think I'd like a little more." He thinks for a moment and says innocently, "Only that would be a waste of the room," as he picks up his second pint and laps up the creamy froth.

Paul: "What if I told you that the idea of pleasuring you right here, or even more publicly, in the middle of the foyer, makes me so hard I can barely stand it?"

Rufus: Rufus shivers and squirms some more. "Really? That's good to know, 'cause that makes two of us." He kisses your cheek, "Here rather than out there though... as a first off." He confesses, "I love the idea but I've never actually got up the nerve yet... well apart from those parties in Prague."

Paul: "Tell me what you would have me do, Rufus, please? Anything for you." Such subservient words, but said with such utter devotion. He means them, with every fibre of his heart. He would do anything you asked.

Rufus: Rufus is warmed by your words. He strokes your cheek lightly, "Anything? Hmmm, so sweet, love." He takes you hand and places it on his cock which is hard and aching for your touch. He sees your sincerity. He's flattered and somewhat awed, having you so eager to please him is thrilling. "Want you to touch me. Want your lovely long fingers around me, baby."

Paul: "Ohh, yes, Rufus." He bites his lower lip fetchingly as he unbuckles your belt and unzips your trousers, then reaches inside to draw your aching cock out into the air. "You are so hard for me, for this. You like that there are people talking not ten feet away." His fingertips pet the tip of your prick, gathering wetness from the slit and spreading it around.

Rufus: He murmurs and shifts as you touch him. "I do. I like to be bad and try to hide it. Do wicked things..." His hand is still on your thigh and his fingers flex. "Mmm. Like that they might know and wish it was them."

Paul: His thumb rubs at the place where your foreskin attaches, then slides down the length to fist loosely around the base. He begins a slow circuit up and down, hand not tightening enough or settling into a predictable enough rhythm for you to draw close to orgasm. "I think they'd wish they were me." He licks beneath your ear, then bites lightly.

Rufus: Rufus squirms and leans against you. "You think? I think they'd be jealous of both of us." He grins, "We're just so sexy, love." Carefully he picks up his glass and drinks, shaking a bit as he sets it down again. "God, you're good at this."

Paul: "I love touching you. It inspires me." He pinches at the retracted foreskin and twists it, the sensation intense but not quite painful as he draws the loose flesh up over your swollen glans and holds it there, fingers clamping it together.

Rufus: His head tilts to land on your shoulder, "Bastard," he says amiably as his hips hitch. He turns toward you and licks along the line of your jaw.

Paul: "Mmm, this comes as a shock, I'm sure." He moves his hand again, fingers relaxing, then gripping tight as they slide down your shaft. "If you want me to make you come, you'll have to order me to do it." His fist clenches firmly around your prick and he begins to stroke the tender-hard spike of flesh in a blissfully consistent rhythm.

Rufus: "Order you?" Rufus smiles lazily. "I quite like things as they are at the moment. I fancy sitting here, drinking while you're clever fingers do their work." He kisses your cheek and runs his fingers lightly over the hard line of your cock. "Seems to me that you like it too."

Paul: "I love it," he murmurs, his cock jumping under your teasing touch. "You have no idea how much it pleases me to do this for you. The only thing I'd like more is kneeling under the table and suckling this beautiful prick." His fingers pause at the base of your cock and travel downward to squeeze and fondle your heavy testicles, rolling them gently in his hand.

Rufus: "Thought so," he smiled, "Good. Want you to like it too." Rufus looks at you and muses, "You'd like to do that would you?" he pretends to consider, enjoying the teasing touch.

Paul: "I would love to watch you try to behave normally with your prick down my throat." His voice is hot and rough in your ear, even as his fingers tease their way back up your shaft to gather slick precome and rub it downward, slicking his palm and making the glide of skin on skin ten times more delicious and wicked.

Rufus: He shivers at the thought and at the sensual tone. "Sounds like a challenge. And who am I to deny you?" He smiles, amused and aroused. "On your knees then."

Paul: "Yes, Sir." His eyes are hot with the same feral amusement and hunger as he slides down to the floor, bending his long, lithe body to fit as he crouches on his knees and laves his tongue up your shaft before suckling in the head and swirling his tongue over it.

Rufus: His eyes hold yours in an exchange of perfect understanding and his hand moves to your head, his fingers flicking through your hair. "Very nice." Rufus murmurs as you start to work on him. Taking your challenge, he breaths to settle himself and leans back. "You look gorgeous, Paul."

Paul: "Mmmm," he murmurs in thanks, mouth full of your prick and growing more full by the second as he slides his lips down, and down, until you are nestled in his tight, clenching throat. His fingers grip your upper thighs firmly as he begins to suckle in long, firm pulls, like a baby with a bottle.

Rufus: Clamping down hard on his response, Rufus sips his beer and strokes your hair all the while murmuring praise and occasionally commenting on one of the other patrons. As his arrousal grows it becomes increasingly hard to maintain the impression of normality. His hips shift, making small thrusts and his breathing is faster and shakier. He tugs gently at your hair and puts the glass down bafore he spills it. "You're not to come, Paul."

Paul: Paul moans, shuddering at being given that particular order, then mewls his assent as he redoubles his efforts, bringing his hands into play. One hand cups your seed-heavy sacs and squeezes rhythmically, while the other scratches lightly at your inner thighs then presses at your perineum. He wants to please you, so desperately, taking your cock all the way down his throat on every downstroke, only to let you slide allllmost from his swollen lips every time he rises.

Rufus: "Paul..." Rufus sighs your names, a long, husky groaning sigh as he surrenders to your clever touch. "So good, love." He's trying to keep his voice low but he is allowing his body to respond fully to you. He catches knowing looks from a few other drinkers and shudders, looking down at you and stroking your golden hair as climax takes him. "Aaahhh... Paul.... love."

Paul: Paul swallows like he's receiving a sacrament, not letting your prick slip from his mouth until it's gone thoroughly soft. He lays his head on your thigh, mewling, waiting for your further orders.

Rufus: Rufus' hips twitch and thrust a little as he pours into you. He moans softly. His head falls back as he regains his breath, his fingers still tangled in your hair. After several, shaky moments he urges you up till you are sitting on his knees. He tucks himself away and pulls you closer, kissing and murmuring, "I want you here but I want you upstairs too." A featherlight finger traces your length. "Can I have it all do you think?"

Paul: "I think you can have anything you like, my sweet, indulged love." He smiles and then moans, cock trembling beneath your light touch. "I could easily get hard again for you, beautiful."

Rufus: "Lucky me," he smiles and swivels carefully sideways. "Such a clever, sexy, beautiful..."as he's speaking he eases you onto the padded seat and pushes you gently back until you're lying looking up at him. He opens your pants, releasing your cock, being careful not to touch more than necessary as it springs toward him. He hums approval and considers for a moment then bends to lap at the seeping slit and place a soft kiss, caressing you gently with his lips. "I always regretted not doing this in that swanky little bar in Prague."

Paul: "That...ah, GOD, baby...swanky little bar I...fuck....got us kicked out of? May as well have." Long fingers twine in your soft curls as he spreads his legs as far as he can for you, balls hot and tight and drawn up against his body.

Rufus: Rufus snorts, "True." He licks and kisses and teases you while his fingers reach down to explore, at first a gentle investigation then, increasingly, he takes hold, cupping and stroking your balls. The position is awkward and he slides to the floor, moving you so he's kneeling between your legs. He plays with you for a few more minutes then lowers his mouth down so slowly, purring as he goes.

Paul: "Rufus...fuck what a beautiful mouth." He knows that people are openly staring now, knows that they are appreciative of this, that they find it as hot and gorgeous and sweet as he does. That just trebles his arousal. It's like the whole room is sharing it, and it makes him feel like such a wicked creature, which is quite his favourite feeling.

Rufus: His fingers are rubbing over your inner thighs. He is working you seriously now and on one upsweep pulls off and whispers, "Come when you want, baby," before he settles back to making sure that you want to very much.

Paul: It takes just a handful of seconds before Paul is arching up into your mouth and coming with a cry that probably isn't near as stifled as it should be given the surroundings. His fingers tighten in your hair, but never pull roughly as his orgasm sweeps over him, leaving him panting and grinning.

Rufus: Rufus makes a pleased murmur and swallows around you, cradling your cock on his tongue as you subside. He plants kisses on you hip and up the centre of your chest, bracing himself on his arms to smile down at you and lick up a trace of your semen that has dribbled from his mouth. He grins down at you, kisses your mouth then sits up, offering you his hand. A faint blush warms his cheeks as he sees the smiles from the other patrons.

Paul: His fingertips stroke along the flushed arch of cheekbone, then takes your hand, sitting up and carrying the motion straight into a melting, wet, messy, glorious kiss.

Rufus: Rufus wraps his arms around you and kisses back enthusiastically. "Thank you. We should have done that long ago." He leans against you and sips his beer.

Paul: "Mmm, thank YOU. We certainly should have." He lays his head on your shoulder and leans in to steal a sip of your beer - it's a Paul Rule (TM): the other person's (fill in blank) is always better than yours.

Rufus: Contentedly leaning against you as you share his beer, Rufus says, "Want to go upstairs? I got a room with a nice big shower and a bath and stuff."

Paul: "Ooo, BATH...a bath with you sounds delightful. Would you like a massage? We can be hopelessly decadent."

Rufus: "That's what I thought." Rufus nods, "I picked a reeaally luxurious room we can be decadent to our hearts content." He pushes away the empty pint glass, "Massage sounds bloody marvellous."

Paul: "You know me so well." He scoots out of the booth, making sure his clothes are done up for the trip upstairs. "Do you ever wish we could do this more often?"

Rufus: "I should after all these years," Rufus teases as you head to the lifts. "Yes. Sometimes... I suppose," He says slowly. "It's typical of us to get closer just when we have formed other commitments."

Paul: "We always were arse over head about things." He smiles, a little sadly, and twines his fingers with yours.

Paul: "If we weren't part of this lifestyle, with lovers who allowed us to see each other, I dare say I would be reduced to scandalous behaviour like singing beneath your window to lure you away with me."

Rufus: He holds your hand and lifts it to his lips to kiss it. "Yes. Makes you wonder... all those months when we were totally free and we didn't take advantage of it." He leads you out of the lift. "Can't be the attraction of forbidden fruit since we haven't been forbidden. Here we are." He slides the keycard in the lock and flings the door open. "Let's make the most of it."

Paul: "Well, I *was* working an inordinate amount during those months. Back to back filming in Mexico and Sweden and all over creation. But you're right, we've got this, and we should relish every second. I don't know why I even brought up might have beens." He goes inside and surveys the room, beaming his approval. "Lovely. You have exquisite taste."

Rufus: "True. And I was too what with Charles and then Ireland and Prague again." Rufus closes the door behind you and pulls you close, kissing you and running a fingertip over your brow. "It's natural, love. Human nature. I..." He's not sure what to say so he lets it pass and beams at your approval, "I'm glad you like it."

Paul: He looks like he wants to say something, to push for more, but he just presses his forehead to yours and then nuzzles at your lips. "I'll run the bath, you find some oil?"

Rufus: Rufus watches you head into the bathroom. There's clearly more on your mind and after misjudging Stephen's concerns he's wary about opening this can of worms, but you two talk about pretty much everything. He smiles to himself and follows you into the huge marble tiled bathroom and starts rummaging through the extensive collection of tubes and bottles.

Paul: Paul strips down to skin and runs the tub, fussing with the temperature till it's perfect, then adds some bubbles on a whim, watching them pile up. He folds his arms on the rim of the tub and looks up at you.

Rufus: "Do we need oil now we've got bubbles?" He's chosen an oil that's got a sweet, slightly spicy scent and he puts it on the ledge behind the tub. Rufus gets out of his clothes and looks at you with an affectionate smile then climbs in and hold out his arms. "Come here, Paul. Talk to me."

Paul: 'Mmm, yes. The oil's for the massage." He curls into your arms, long arms wrapping around your waist. "Talk to you? Bout what?"

Rufus: "Whatever's on your mind." Hugging you close he rests his head on your shoulder enjoying the heat of the water and the press of your body against him.

Paul: "You're on my mind, Rufus." Quietly, bending his head to lave his tongue across a dusky nipple.

Rufus: "Hmmm. That's nice." Rufus purrs. "So I should hope with us twined around each other like this." His hands are roaming up and down your back.

Paul: "I am a simple creature." He tightens his legs around your hips, nestling your cocks together. "I have simple needs, simple pleasures..."

Rufus: He shifts to mirror your pose. "Simple's good. Especially if it's the same simple needs and pleasures I'm thinking of." Rufus squirms against you noticing that both your cocks are beginning to show interest again even if they're not exactly rock hard at this moment. He kisses your cheek working around to your ear.

Paul: His eyes flutter closed as he laves his tongue in a long swipe across your mouth, then probes deeply within, loving how it feels to grow hard slowly against you. Focused on you, there is nothing else in the world right now.

Rufus: The kiss is lovely, deep and sensual. Rufus moves against you, skin sliding over skin as he sways gently side to side just the slightest amount. He smiles to himself thinking that you are like a couple who've been together for years... relaxed and comfortable with each other. Of course that analogy doesn't take into account the little encounter downstairs. As the kiss ends he chuckles softly and nips at your earlobe.

Paul: "Mmmm?" A small, interrogative noise as he gasps softly, head tipping back, thumbs sliding over your nipples and then pinching them lightly.

Rufus: "I just had a weird image of us as a settled old couple... then I remembered what we did downstairs." Rufus gnaws gently at your neck and then down your shoulder. "That's nice, love."

Paul: His eyes close tighter for the barest moment. "Settled old couples can't be kinky? I'll hate to break that to Antonio."

Rufus: "Good point." Rufus rocks against you. "I must say I can't see us getting any less kinky," he gathers bubbles in his hands as he continues to caress your back, "if anything we are getting steadily worse... or better."

Paul: "Better. Definitely better." His thumbs trace a path down your belly, sliding back and forth just below your navel. "It's funny, you know...I don't think anyone understands how I can crave pain and humiliation and submissiveness at everyone else's hands, yet at yours...I am content with gentleness and sweetness."

Rufus: "Yes. I didn't realise for ages that you were into that sort of kink." Rufus tilts his head and considers. "You didn't show me that side really until we were back in London." He nuzzles against you, "Probably because you knew it'd... intimidate me at the very least. I'm glad you're content." He hitches a shoulder, "I might get more into dominance but I don't see real pain or humiliation in my repertoire anytime soon."

Paul: "I don't think I would want you to, love. Of course, if I ever DID hear that tone in your voice, I would either die of shock or come in my trousers. I love you just the way you are." He rolls his hips, thumbs inching back down to brush the tender flesh JUST above the base of your cock.

Rufus: Rufus laughed, "I wouldn't want you keeling over on me, but having you come just from my voice... now that's a powerful image." His hands are also delving lower, fingers just flirting into your crack as they glide down your long back. "Love you too, Paul. Imagine the shock I got when I discovered that you could get me to go all submissive too."

Paul: "I even managed to get Antonio to bottom for me and like it. I have a strange talent for it." He laughs and lifts up, wriggling back toward your teasing fingers.

Rufus: "I think you must have. You've missed your calling, love." He takes your hint and slides his fingers a little lower each time. "I've come to the conclusion that I do have a strong submissive streak but only for certain people."

Paul: "Then I feel even more privileged to have that side of you." His mouth trails messy kisses over your face, down your neck, biting along your collarbone.

Rufus: "That's me... the submissive's submissive." His tone and the loving gleam in his eyes makes it clear that he's not having a dig. "Hhhmmm, that's so nice," he rolls his head as you work across his upper chest. "That water's cooling. Didn't you promise me a massage?"

Paul: "I did, and I am a man of my word." He stands, water and bubbles cascading off him, his hardened cock right at mouth level.

Rufus: Rufus' hands slither down your sides as you stand and he holds you for a moment so he can nuzzle into the join of hip and thigh and kiss the side of your shaft. He makes a face, "Soap... not so tasty."

Paul: "Of course it's not, silly boy." He steps out and dries off, then hands you a towel, taking the oil into the bedroom and dimming the lights to a bare glow. "Front first, or back?" He warms a palmful of oil between his hands.

Rufus: He dries himself quickly and follows you, standing in the doorway and admiring your long, slender nakedness. There's a speculative gleam in his eyes as he considers, "Back I think." he decides, before walking over to hug you. He kisses you, licking at your lips as he pulls away to lie on the bed.

Paul: Paul looks at you laid out on the bed, grateful you cannot see him, that he can just relax and touch you and let whatever he's feeling play openly across his face. He straddles you just below your arse and runs his slick hands up your spine, then down on either side of it, clever fingers finding any lingering tension and dissolving it like magic.

Rufus: Your hands are wonderful, strong and gentle and you know exactly what you're doing. Rufus sighs and relaxes, "That's fantastic, love. " He stretches as your fingers slide down the long muscles and wriggles his hips teasingly.

Paul: "Mmm, you want something else oiled? Massaged?" His fingers slide into your cleft, over your pucker, before gliding back up to your shoulders and neck.

Rufus: He makes a purring, moaning sort of noise and smiles even though you can't see. "Yes please."

Paul: "No need to say please tonight. Just want to drown in each other, love." He nuzzles the back of your neck, tonguing then biting at the sensitive flesh as rubs the crinkled ring of muscle, stimulating the myriad nerve endings there.

Rufus: "Sounds nice, baby" Arches and sighs, "Feels bloody good too." He lies and lets your hands work their magic, enjoying the sensation and your presence.

Paul: His other hand squirms round your hip to grip your cock as his finger penetrates the relaxed ring in one long, smooth glide. "You do, you feel beautiful, inside and out." His voice is a low, sweet murmur in your ear.

Rufus: He is moving easily in your hands, his hips lifting to give you access, squirming and murmuring, "Yeah? Your hands feel wonderful too, love. Make me feel all alight and alive." He turns his head trying to see you and smiles.

Paul: "Oh yes. Turn over for me? I want to watch your face." His finger slides deep, crooking to find your prostate, other hand squeezing tightly at the base of your cock.

Rufus: Rufus groans and he does as you ask, pivoting around your deep-set finger. "God. Paul." His hips rock forward. He settles onto his back and looks up at you a soft smile on his lips and love and lust in his eyes.

Paul: "Rufus, God...when I look at you like this..." He doesn't finish the thought, but his blue eyes are shining darkly in the dim light as he pulls you up onto his lap, one slick hand masturbating your swollen prick, moving in long, slow, luscious glides, the other finger rubbing at the tender-hard little nub buried deep within.

Rufus: He winds one arm around your neck and plants kisses along your jaw and nips at your ear, sighing happily. "Gorgeous, love." He snakes his other hand down to run his fingers along your cock before a spike of pleasure flashes through him and he gasps and writhes, both hands moving to steady himself and hang onto you.

Paul: "Is that good, sweetheart?" A second finger adds a bit of stretch, and allows him to slide the slick digits on either side of your gland and squeeze, playing with your foreskin with the other hand.

Rufus: "So good." His head falls on your shoulder and he rocks back and forth between your hands. "So good to me. Love you, Paul." He rubs against you, "Oh god, oh god."

Paul: "Love you so much. Want to be inside you so badly." He bends his back to lick at the tip of your prick, tongue pressing into the little slit.

Rufus: "Yes..." Rufus is awash with sensation, dazed with pleasure, but that brings him into more focus. He lifts his head to look toward the table by the bed. "Want that too. So much." His fingers run through your hair. "Want you."

Paul: "Ohhh, fuck, we can't love." He shudders and bends to suckle in more of your cockhead, fingers sliding in and out of your tight, slick heat. He remembers that the massage oil would degrade the latex.

Rufus: Rufus starts to argue but the words melt away as your mouth closes over him. "Paaaul." He wails, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your fingers and mouth are driving him crazy, he's moving restlessly and moaning as the orgasm builds.

Paul: "Yes, sweet love. I want to watch you come for me. I want to watch you try to hold off, then just not be able to for even one moment longer." He strokes your cock slowly, so slowly that you will have to move your hips and fuck his fist if you want enough momentum for an orgasm.

Rufus: The restless movements continue for a while as Rufus wallows in the sensations you are causing. Then he realises that you are just holding him on the brink of climax, that he is going to have to work for this. "Bastard." He hisses at you, amused, and begins to roll his hips forward into your hand then back so that he's fucking himself on your fingers.

Paul: "God, you are gorgeous...yes, just like that." Another finger slides in, moving in deep, hard circles, as he bends his lithe body to lap at the very tip of your swollen cock.

Rufus: He settles into a slow rhythm, sighing, "Oh, yes. Feels amazing, love." Your long fingers are sending irresistible sensation through him and his hips steadily pick up pace. He drops his head onto your shoulder, his mouth nipping and licking as he murmurs mostly inarticulate appreciation. He is simultaneously driving toward orgasm and holding himself back until finally it hits him and he throws his head back and sobs your name as he pulses into your hand.

Paul: Paul groans, senses full of you - your sounds, your scent, your lovely face contorted with ecstasy - as his hand coaxes forth every last drop of seed you can possibly give. His fingers gentle, both inside your spasming passage and around your softening prick, and finally, after it's completely passed, he pulls out, leans forward, and claims your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss.

Rufus: Rufus slumps against you and rubs his head against your shoulder happily. He turns naturally for your kiss, responding to your sweetness and hunger. Eventually he pulls back and smiles at you, running his fingers down your cheek. "That was beautiful. Now what can I do for you, baby?"

Paul: "Hold me close, kiss me, and touch me? Wanna look in your eyes while I come." Such a romantic thing to say, so lover-like, punctuated by long breaks as his mouth travels over yours, restless and desperate.

Rufus: It sounds perfect to Rufus. He cuddles closer and wraps his arms around you. "Hmmm, perfect. Like touching you..." He kisses you gently, licking at your lips teasingly. "Love kissing you." His other hand starts to play over your chest, stroking then flicking over your nipple and pinching gently. He watches your face for a moment before he bends to suckle. With a final soft bite he moves back to your mouth and sends his hand steadily lower, caressing and teasing.

Paul: Paul's tongue slides back into your mouth to stroke against yours, hot and perfect and knowing just what you like, and how to get what he likes from you. His cock jerks, and his hips ride up, and he pours sweet pleas between your lips.

Rufus: Rufus moans softly into your mouth. His hand slithers around your cock and he starts to massage and caress you, teasing and gradually settling into a steady, coaxing rhythm. He is feeding off your mouth as he leans his body closer, squeezing your cock between your two bodies, his hand still playing you. He lifts his mouth just long enough to say, "Love you," then returns to the ravishing kiss.

Paul: He mewls his assent, eyes screwing tightly shut, then opening by force of will to keep fixed upon yours. Long, thin fingers dig into your shoulders, then slide around your back, droplets of pearly seed slipping down the shaft to slick the path of your fingers.

Rufus: Drawing back so he can see your face, Rufus slides his fingers around the head of your cock and lifts them to his mouth to lick your seed from them. He holds your gaze and sucks his fingers into his mouth then returns them, wet and glistening, to your cock. "Do you just want my hand, love? Are my fingers enough for you?" He places a quick kiss on your lips then a line of kisses across your jaw and down your neck, biting gently at the angle of your shoulder. His hand is gripping tighter now, fingers flickering over the tip before he glides firmly down to the root and back up.

Paul: "I wish I could make you hard for me again," he murmurs. "I would love to feel you inside me, to ride your beautiful cock and kiss you till you explode inside me." He spreads his thighs, panting shallowly, his hands moving up to twine in your wild, damp curls. "As long as you touch me, everything is perfect."

Rufus: Rufus moans softly again, "God, yes." He moves his head so you are pulling his hair a little. "You feel so good." He reaches out and just manages to grab the lube. "Will my fingers do, baby? Would you like them inside you?" He nibbles at your ear.

Paul: "Yes, oh please...any part of you in me sounds wonderful." He tilts his hips up to give you better access, cock straining up and away in a rigid arc from his concave belly.

Rufus: Quickly applying the lube, Rufus reaches for you and slides two fingers carefully inside. "I've got you, love. So hot." He smiles at the look on your face.

Paul: "I know you do, Rufus." His mouth opens on a gasp as he accepts your fingers inside, passage spasming around them, squeezing then relaxing in the same way that feels so delicious around your cock.

Rufus: Rufus rests his forehead on your shoulder and strokes across your prostate while he runs this thumb around your cock. He loves the way you're moving and the sounds you're making.

Paul: "Oooh, fuck, yes...just there. Perfect, oh, yes..." Paul's transported by this simple, intimate pleasure. There's something about being spitted on your fingers, your attention focussed solely on his pleasure, that makes him feel utterly vulnerable: warm and loved.

Rufus: Smiling, pleased by your response, Rufus continues to stroke your cock and work his fingers in you, twisting and curling a little. He looks up at you and nips at your neck, "Feels good from this side too." He watches you squirm for a while then licks at your ear, "Want you to come for me, baby. Want to watch you fall apart. Want to make you happy, love." He kisses you, licking at your lips and sighing happily.

Paul: His eyes open wide on his orgasm, long back arching as he keens, coming hard and long. He tightens around your fingers, and pulses in your hand, yanking you down and deepening the kiss desperately as he spends himself for you the moment you ask it of him.

Rufus: Slightly surprised, Rufus holds you as you come, thrilled and flattered by the immediacy of your response. "Yes, baby," He murmurs into your mouth and kisses you back, sucking on your tongue. When you relax against him he slips his fingers free and winds his arms around you.

Paul: He laughs shakily, hanging onto you, your energy good and deep and oh-so-grounding for him right now. "Sorry...force of long habit. I love you, Rufus." He delves back into the kiss, utterly warm and pliant in your arms.

Rufus: "That's quite all right." Rufus grins. "Love you too." It's such a comfortable, relaxed moment, he hums into the kiss and wriggles closer.

Paul: One long leg hooks against the coverlet, bringing it up over the two of you, as he smiles and pulls your solid weight mostly on top of him, wallowing in your scent and feel.

Rufus: "Hmmm, nice." Rufus moves down a bit so he can lie against your shoulder. "Very nice. And you're right love, we should get together more often."

Delivered to rpg_rufus

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 14 Feb 2004 14:35:32 GMT

An animation cel by one Bill Sewell, ca. 1973, signed.

I wasn't sure if you had any of your father's art, so I searched around some studios and museums and found this. I love you, Rufus. Have a marvellous day, sweetheart.

Paul

ailei@texas.net — Mon, 26 Jan 2004 15:30:13 GMT

Is there anything to compare with the gift of trust when a confirmed dominant submits? I do not think anything is quite so beautiful as watching that struggle, watching those natural instincts subsume beneath the love that motivates the sacrifice.

Last night, I had Antonio bound and out of his mind with pleasure. He wasn't thinking of pleasing me. I took away every last bit of his responsibility and gave him permission to do nothing but feel. And it was incomparably beautiful.

A very public thank you, my darling, for trusting me so much, and giving yourself so sweetly.

Chat Log, Paul/Antonio, Sunday Night, 25 January

ailei@texas.net — Mon, 26 Jan 2004 15:23:33 GMT

[players, not pups. Paul tops Antonio for the very first time.]

Paul: Paul flops down on Antonio's lap, wriggling down and thoroughly insinuating himself. "Bored now." His book lays abandoned on the arm chair.

Antonio: Antonio laughs, lifting his own book out from under you. "We cannot have that. You will chew through all the good couches again."

Paul: "Or claw them to ribbons." He shifts and straddles your lap, mouth moving over your face in light, teasing swipes.

Antonio: He closes his book and sets it aside, lifting his face with a pleased rumble. "That is not what I would have you tear to ribbons."

Paul: "Usually..." He threads his fingers through your wavy dark hair and tugs your head back. "You tear ME to ribbons." A sweet pink tongue slides along your lips.

Antonio: "Mmm, maybe we should try something different tonight?" He flutters his lashes, hands moving up your spine. "I can be a terribly good boy."

Paul: "Different, hmm? Somehow, I doubt you could be a good boy if your life depended upon it." His voice dips low, sweet, hot, and his mouth traces the side of your neck before biting down at the join of neck and shoulder.

Antonio: He moans, thumbs pressing in as his nails lightly rake across your shirt. "I could be a bad boy and let you punish me," he murmurs, arching his neck.

Paul: "Or we could simply be ourselves, and I could tie you to the bed with silken cords and ravish you until you beg me for release."

Antonio: His nails dig into your skin. "I like that."

Paul: "I've been wanting a chance to drive you mad." He slides off your lap and holds out his hand. "Come with me, lover, and we'll see what it takes to make you beg."

Antonio: He takes your hand, standing with a small grin. "Not much, I'm afraid," he says, letting you tug him. "I am a weak man."

Paul: "Oh, but you want to be strong for me, don't you?" And you see the toppy side of your lover for the very first time. He's definitely a sensual top, seducing rather than forcing.

Antonio: "I will be as strong as your skill allows me, Paul." His eyes gleam darkly, trying to slide into the role of sub.

Paul: "Mmm...challenging me? Hoping for a fight?" He tsks, and then you reach the bedroom. "Take your clothes off, love."

Antonio: His eyes glimmer as he reaches up and slowly begins unbuttoning his shirt, slipping each disk through the slots with maddening patience.

Paul: Paul's mouth curves into a little smile and then he turns his back on you completely, sure that you are complying with his request as he begins to gather what he will need.

Antonio: He is just finishing with the buttons of his shirt when you turn back to him.

Paul: "Beautiful." He lays everything out, then looks at you. "That's enough for now. Lie down on the bed, on your back."

Antonio: He slides onto the bed, laying on his back. He's still wearing his unbuttoned shirt, chest warm and dark-skinned.

Paul: "Mmmm...I could get used to this on occasion." He straddles your hips, holding a thick, soft silken cord. Leaning up, he wraps it around your wrists and ties it, then fixes it to the headboard. The arrangement is secure, but comfortable, and he can turn you easily.

Antonio: He arches up, tongue flickering across his lips to wet them. He's growing hard quickly, erection pressing up between his legs.

Paul: Paul looks down at you, eyes shining. "I love you," he says, then bends his head to wrap his lips around a nipple. At first, he spends long, luscious moments just licking, tasting.

Antonio: "Ohh, I love you too," he moans, arching into the touch just a little, just enough to let you know how much he wants it. His lashes flicker, eyes closing then opening again.

Paul: Finally, he starts suckling, long, strong pulls at the tender-hard bud. His long fingers are petting your other nipple lightly, then pinching rhythmically.

Antonio: "Feels so good," he breathes, hips pushing up. His cock throbs against the cotton of his pants.

Paul: "I love nipples," he murmurs against your chest. "Yours are so beautiful, so dark and sweet." You absolutely lose track of how long he feeds from your nipples, one, then the other then back again. He doesn't touch you anywhere else, but he makes sweet little noises of pleasure.

Antonio: He's caught up in the pleasure, letting go of all sense of time and simply enjoying the feel of your mouth, the shivers of excitement, the nip of your teeth. He encourages you with soft noises and murmured endearments, wet spot slowly growing where the head of his cock is pressed against his trousers.

Paul: "God, mi amor..." When his mouth leaves your nipples, he fastens small clamps to each one. They grip the buds firmly, but not cruelly, keeping them beautifully erect as he reaches for a feather and then tickles it over the hard nubs.

Antonio: Antonio moans, shivering at the sensation, everything focusing down on those clamps and the feather tickling across his nipples.

Paul: "Oh, so sweet...could spend forever watching you like this." He lays the feather aside and slides off the bed, his own pyjama pants tented out obscenely. With quiet, economical movements he removes your shoes and socks, then your belt. Your trapped erection is simply too tempting for him to resist rubbing his face against and sucking at the wet spot.

Antonio: He jerks and cries out, cock twitching beneath your mouth. "Dios," Antonio breathes, biting his bottom lip. "You set me afire, Paul."

Paul: "It feels good, caring for you when you've cared for me so many times." He opens your trousers and glides the zip down over your erection one tooth at a time until they can slide easily off your hips. The moan he gives at the sight of you naked and bound for him goes straight to your balls.

Paul: "I'm going to turn you now." Large, capable, yet delicate hands rotate your body, and then push your thighs out and open. "Fuck, you have a delicious arse. I've wanted to service you like this for months." He pulls apart the cheeks, biting off a strangled mewl as he licks up the cleft.

Antonio: Ooooh, all his control shatters at the fell of your tongue. He bucks and thrashes, moaning helplessly, mindlessly driving his cock into the mattress. "*Paul*," he shudders, so tight and almost virgin against your tongue. "*Paul*."

Paul: "Tonio, baby...love..." He holds your arse open and flicks his tongue harder against the whorled muscles, whimpering as you slowly begin to loosen and relax for him. Then, his clever tongue pushes inside and wriggles deep as it can go.

Antonio: He stifles a scream, thrashing back before forcing himself still again. "Driving me insane," he moans, fists clenching. He's shivering beneath your hands and mouth, quaking like a child. "Por favor, don't stop."

Paul: Oh, he's not ABOUT to stop. He lavishes your twitching little hole with every bit as much attention as he did your nipples: licking, tonguing, scraping his teeth around the rim, sucking on the distended, nerve-filled muscles.

Antonio: He could lay back for hours and lavish at the attention spent to his nipples, but this is too new, too desperate for him. He's bottomed so few times that being touched here by you leaves him a quivering, sobbing mess, hips arching, thighs spreading, pucker pulsing against your lips and tongue.

Paul: Aching jaws force him to stop eventually, but a slick, cool finger soon takes up the space left by his tongue. He hisses, watching your pucker swallows his finger. "We're only just starting, yes?"

Antonio: "*DIOS*. You will drive me mad." His breath is coming in short, hard pants.

Paul: "No. I'll finally give you even a tenth of what you give me every time you touch me." Another finger slides in, and he's moving them in circles, finding your prostate and pressing it on every circuit.

Antonio: Antonio bites the pillow to keep from bellowing, prostate pulsing beneath your finger. He tightens, then forces himself to loosen, drawing deep, gasping breaths. "Oh, I want you inside of me, mi amor. I want you to claim me."

Paul: "Not yet...not even nearly. I haven't even touched that delicious cock yet, have I?" An expert, loving patience loosens your tight muscles until he can easily fit the head of a small, cold metal plug at your entrance. "You can take this for me." It's slick with lube and goes in easily.

Antonio: He hisses in frustration but nods, back arching sleekly to show it off for you.

Paul: "Perfection." He gives you a smart slap across your round-muscled arse, deliberately overlaying the plug and jostling it within you.

Antonio: 'T-Thank you," he moans, ass gripping tight around the plug.

Paul: "Ohhh, now that is decadent." He gives you another, and another, purely from the delight of seeing your muscles twitching and working the plug. Grabbing the end of the metal dildo, he fucks it into your passage.

Antonio: "Fuck, baby, so good. So sweet." He arches, twisting in pleasure.

Paul: "Yes...yes, you are so incredibly sweet." He licks at the tender flesh stretched around the base of the plug, and then spanks you, not terribly hard, just over it, because he loves the way it makes you move.

Antonio: Her jerks with it, whimpering helplessly. "Por favor, si si, love, feels amazing, feel so *good*."

Paul: "I know you haven't done this often in the past, have you? Had a man inside?" He licks and bites a path up your spine, parting the hair to latch languidly onto the back of his neck.

Antonio: "Dios, so rarely, Paul. It will be so new to me with you."

Paul: "Thank you, my heart." He gently turns you again, making the plug do all sorts of fascinating things as it rubs around inside you. Your cock draws his eyes and he literally licks his lips. "Tell me, Antonio...how is your self control? Do you need help to restrain yourself?"

Antonio: He tries to scoff. "I will not come unless bidden to do so," he says. "Though," he adds, "it will be difficult."

Paul: "Perhaps I just want to see your big, gorgeous prick restrained for me. Watch it purple and swell and ache." He lifts his hand and shows you the cunning buckled strap before he fastens it around your cock and balls, constricting your shaft and making it throb.

Antonio: "Oooh, si, then. Si, anything for you." His voice is low and silken, a deep purr.

Paul: "You'll have to forgive me, but I very much want to make you sob with want before I slide inside you." He runs his tongue from the base of your cock to the tip, flicking it over the retracted foreskin, then dipping into the little slit and pushing it open.

Antonio: "I will not be able to resist it," he murmurs, cock twitching against your mouth. Precome bursts across your tongue, heavy and salty-sweet.

Paul: Paul moans and draws forth more of the delicious droplets, before taking the head in his mouth and suckling it delicately. One hand cradles your balls, the other slides up your chest to tweak the nipple clamps gently.

Antonio: He moans with you, lost in sensation, thighs spreading so sweetly wide for you, hips canted to offer himself.

Paul: His throat closes slowly around your bound cock, not stopping until his nose is buried in the crisp curls at the base. Swallowing around your girth, he begins a sweet, unhurried, luscious rhythm, letting your prick become slick with saliva.

Antonio: He moves with your mouth, surrendering himself to the sensation, whimpering and mewling. He doesn't fight the arousal but instead lets it claim him, shake him to the core.

Paul: Paul moans his approval, the vibrations transmitting into your cock. His hand slides lower to the plug, working it with care and patience so that it strikes your hard little gland just so.

Antonio: "Driving me insane," he growls, body working helplessly between the two stimuli, undulating beneath you.

Paul: His mouth slides up your cock and off, eyes wicked-dark and sinful. "You can still form words...I would say I have a great deal of work left to do." He picks up a black velvet mask and slips it over your eyes, settling it, blacking out the room. "I don't think I know your safeword, darling."

Antonio: He whimpers. "Absinthe."

Paul: "Lovely." He means it, says the word like a prayer. The next thing you feel touching you is soft...the feather. The tickly strands caress your hard nipples in their clamps. "I could love you like this for hours. You are a thing of beauty."

Antonio: "Hours," he moans hoarsely, shivering beneath the soft touch. He is beyond most words, breath held waiting for more.

Paul: The feather reappears at the tip of your prick, maddeningly light touches to the swollen glans, tickling over your foreskin.

Antonio: Antonio: "Dios," he whispers, cock jerking madly. "Dios, Dios." His hands form fists.

Paul: "Yesss," he hisses, his own arousal palpable in his voice. The feather torments your tortured cockhead for what feels like an eternity. Occasionally you feel it withdraw and you think it's over, but it always returns. His favorite place to torture is your little slit, tickling it and laughing with evil, hot delight when it spurts precome in response.

Antonio: "Evil," he moans, precome making his cock and the featherhead slick. "So damned evil."

Paul: "So damned sweet, laid out like this," he responds. Your knees are pushed up and out, and the feather tip is brushing at your upper thighs, shivering against your aching testicles.

Antonio: "Por favor, need more," he whispers, quivering beneath you, lost.

Paul: "I know you do, but tonight isn't about your needs, is it? It's about pleasing me, and it is my pleasure to take you places you have scarcely dreamt existed." The feather strokes the stretched ring of your pucker as his thumb jars the plug inside you.

Antonio: He cries out, jerking back against the sensation.

Paul: There's a faint sound you cannot make out, then his mouth is surrounding your straining, begging shaft again, only this time, it is COLD. His tongue holds a bit of ice to the underside of your prick as he suckles.

Antonio: He curses, kicking out in intense pleasure, balls drawing up hard and tight.

Paul: Another noise, and then several things happen in rapid succession: his mouth is gone, the plug is eased out and dropped on the side of the bed, and his clever fingers wrap around your prick, which is taken from excruciating cold to blinding heat. His hand is slick with warming oil.

Antonio: His cock is thick and purpled, throbbing with helpless need as he moans, gracefully accepting your absolute control over him.

Antonio: For the first time ever, Antonio slips into sub space.

Antonio: "Oh yes yes, your boy loves how you feel. Please sir, more."

Paul: "Ohhh, there's my good, good boy." His voice is rich with love and adoration as two long fingers slide inside you, spreading the warmth deep, rubbing it into your tender-hard little gland.

Antonio: "So hard for you, sir, so painfully hard." His prostate throbs hotly against your fingers.

Paul: 'Ohh, you have been so sweet for me. I cannot wait a moment longer to be inside you.' He takes off your blindfold, smiling adoringly as he slides off the bed to (finally) take off his own clothes. He crawls back up between your thighs, slicking his prick and settling it at your stretched little hole. Leaning up, he claims your mouth in a deep, fierce kiss.

Antonio: He kisses you back, letting you lead in this as well, tongue sliding against your as he makes pleased, aroused noises in the back of his throat.

Paul: As he's kissing you, his prick is sliding slowly, surely inside. He moans into your mouth at the tightness, at the heat, at the fact that he's one of so very few people who's ever seen you this way.

Antonio: His passage pulses around your prick, milking it as you slowly slide inside of him. He moans brokenly, eyes locked with yours, wide and trusting.

Paul: "Oh, ohhh..." His eyes are wide, wondering. "My sweet love." One hand strokes your hair, the other cups your face tenderly as he begins to thrust, the head of his cock rubbing your prostate.

Antonio: "Love you," he moans, twisting, fucking up with the rhythm you set. "Love you Dios love you."

Paul: "Love you, so much." He kisses you messily, formlessly, tongue laving over your lips and delving deep to stroke along yours. "You will come for me, when I take off the bindings." It's not a request. "You will spurt without my touch."

Antonio: "Oh, si." He arches, breathless.

Paul: Deft fingers find the strap and unbuckle it, freeing your prick from its long torment. He leans forward, pressing your shaft between your straining, sweating bodies, and fucks you harder, pounding against your swollen little gland.

Antonio: He jerks and comes at once, moaning your name, twisting helplessly.

Paul: Finally, he gives himself permission to come, filling you with hot seed, crying out your name as though utterly lost.

Antonio: He wants to hold you so bad, but instead he just arches up against you, taking everything you have to give,

Paul: A shaking hand tugs on the knot holding you before he collapses on top of you, shuddering.

Antonio: His arms wrap around you at once, tight and hard.

Paul: "Ohhh...my sweet Tonio." He nuzzles into you, then reaches to carefully unclamp your nipples.

Antonio: His fingers slide into your hair. "Oh, Paul. I-" he still can't find the words, mind blown away by you.

Paul: He wraps you in his arms, taking the role of protector so very easily. "Shh, baby. We can talk later."

Antonio: "Mmmm." He presses his face against your neck, relaxing into you.

Paul: He pets your back, your hair, cuddling you close. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Antonio: "No, thank you. It was amazing, Paul."

Paul: "I am only pleased I could give you back a fraction of the joy you've given me."

Antonio: 'More than a fraction, I'd say." He smiles and kisses you. "I'm going to have to work to repay that."

Paul: "Just love me." Simply, as he pulls up the covers and reaches out a long arm to turn off the lamp.

Chat Log, Rufus/Paul, late last week

ailei@texas.net — Tue, 13 Jan 2004 16:23:13 GMT

[players, not pups. what's the use of being classically trained, world-class actors if you can't use your mad skills for perverted roleplaying scenes? warning for 'underage' play.]

Rufus: All the madness of Christmas and the New Year is finally over. Rufus has been thinking about your comment about getting together to talk. Must be the season he things wryly. He picks up the phone and hits your number.

Paul: Paul answers after three rings, sounding a tad harried. "Rufus?"

Rufus: 'Yep, it's me. Is this a bad time?'

Paul: 'No, love, don't be silly. I was just fighting a losing battle with a guitar string.'

Rufus: Rufus chuckles. 'So I've saved you, in fact. I wondered if you wanted to go for a pint?'

Paul: "Just a pint?" He teases, wrestling his guitar back in its case. "And here I was hoping for an evening of wild, crazed animal sex."

Rufus: He grins, 'It's code, silly. When was the last time we just had a drink?' He can't remember himself and laughs under his breath.

Paul: 'Ohhhh RIGHT. Silly me. Have we ever just had a drink? I can't seem to keep my pervy little hands off you. Est bar tonight, then?' He loves to hear you laugh - it never fails to make him smile.

Rufus: 'Maybe in the first days in Prague.' He considers, 'Though it was close. Paul. Tell me. How the hell did Heath come away from that shoot such a naif?' Not waiting for an answer he adds, 'Est Bar? Sounds good.'

Paul: 'I'll add that to our list of topics for the evening, sweet. Eight?'

Rufus: 'Eight's good. See you there, love.'

Paul: "Yay! Bye, love."

Rufus: 'Bye.' Rufus puts down the phone and smiles as he heads back to the study.

[later at the Est bar]

Paul: Paul's waiting eagerly. He didn't *consciously* dress up for Rufus, but he's wearing a nice pair of stylish, flat front, low rise grey trousers, and a black silk-knit mock turtleneck. He's already drunk half a pint.

Rufus: Rufus walks into the Bar and sees Paul immediately, his blonde head visible above the others at the bar. He's dressed in chocolate brown cord pants and a coppery raw silk shirt unbuttoned at the neck, under a battered leather bombers jacket. He smiles greeting and makes his way quickly through the light crowd.

Paul: Paul grins and stands up, abandoning his pint and wrapping his arms around you, underneath the jacket, snuggling into your warmth and breathing in your scent. 'Hello, love.'

Rufus: Returning the hug enthusiastically, Rufus kisses you softly, flickering his tongue over your lips. He leans back, still in the embrace, 'It's been a while. Well, since it was just us.' He grins and tightens his hold for a long hard moment.

Paul: 'Oh, too long, I'd say.' He pulls you against him, pinning himself to the bar and kissing you again, mouth dark and rich with the stout he was drinking.

Rufus: 'Mmmm' Rufus hums and settles into the kiss, his hands lightly stroking your back. It's nice to be in a place where he can do this. At last you draw back and he rubs his knuckles along your jaw. 'How are you, love? Domestic life suiting you?' He teases and indicates to the barman to bring two more pints.

Paul: "It's suiting me very well. Antonio is very easy to live with. Alarmingly so. How is domesticity working for you?' He keeps one arm around your waist as he retrieves his pint and takes a drink.

Rufus: 'Good. We had a slight hiccup last week, but otherwise... Stephen's pretty easy going too. And it's only twelve... God, eighteen months since Amy moved out. I'm an old hand.' He grins. Two pints are put on the bar beside him and he picks one up, drinking deeply. He's leaning against you. 'Do you think we could find a seat? Or better, a booth.'

Paul: 'There's a booth, just over there. Think I could persuade you out of a dance, Rufus?' He leads you through the crowd, carrying his pint, to a secluded table.

Rufus: Rufus picks up the other two and follows. 'Dancing? I'd be in that. Only... you're not like Stephen are you? Is it going to turn into sex in the middle of the dancefloor?' He puts the pints on the table and looks at you quizzically.

Paul: 'We ARE in the Est, love. Should I try to keep it chaste?' He sets his pint down, and his long grey coat, then offers you his hand. 'You can even lead.'

Rufus: He concedes your point. Taking your hand he follows you to the dancefloor then pulls you close starting to move with the pulsing rhythm. 'This is nice. I'd forgotten how much I liked dancing.'

Paul: Paul lays his head on your shoulder, hips moving with yours as he hums softly under his breath. 'You feel like heaven. This is how I met Antonio, did you know? Right here on this dance floor.'

Rufus: 'Really?' His cheek rests against your head. 'I met Stephen here too. Only at the bar not on the dance floor. Our second date was at the Est club in Soho.' He sighs contentedly, 'You feel good too, Paul.'

Paul: 'Mmm...' He's practically purring in contentment. 'Antonio came in on a slow night, black leather duster swirling around him, dark eyes flashing. I was so shameless - I knew I had to have him. Then he danced with me, and I thought I'd grown wings on my feet, and after that...' He nuzzles at your neck, fingernails scratching bluntly up and down your spine. 'He took me upstairs...' His thigh slips between yours. 'And kissed me all night long.'

Rufus: 'I can see how that would catch your eye. He is pretty impressive. Even when he's being low key.' Rufus arches slightly at your fingers down his spine. 'Only kissed?' He smiles in remembrance, 'Stephen and I made snarky comments about the other guests.' His hands cup your arse and he presses against you thigh. 'We did our dancing upstairs.'

Paul: 'Antonio made his wife a promise, and he is an honourable man. So we stripped down, skin to skin, and did nothing but kiss. Long, slow, wet, deep kisses, with conversations happening on every breath in between. It was...well. Like something out of a fairy tale.' He mewls lightly and undulates his hips in a languid roll.

Rufus: Rufus pulls his head back and looks at you. 'You're a closet romantic!' He smiles and shakes his head, trying to imagine himself in that situation, then brushes his lips across your cheek. 'That's so sweet, love. We were much more in the Est tradition. Intense attraction, leading to fantastic sex.' He moves against you with a sensuous sway. 'Leading to the discovery that there was something deeper.'

Paul: 'Mmm, we were forced to talk and kiss and pricktease each other and fall head over heels in love. Until I had the brilliant realisation that I could perform incredibly kinky sex acts FOR him and at his command, without him ever touching me.'

Rufus: Rufus laughs, 'And how long did it take you to realise that?/

Paul: 'Two nights of sheer blue-balled torture. Actually I came all over him somewhere around dawn both mornings. Just from the kissing.' Ohh, the memory is turning him on, and you feel so very good against him. 'Would you like to hear my dastardly, perverted idea?'

Rufus: Rufus is finding your memories of Antonio both sweet and arousing. 'I'd love to. Does this mean we're abandoning our drinks?'

Paul: 'No, not at all. Come, drink and let me pour my wicked thoughts into your ear.' He is obviously in a MOOD tonight, playful and libidinous and just a little edgy.

Rufus: 'Sounds perfect.' He slides his arm around your waist and steers you back to the booth, stealing a kiss before he sits down again. 'Come and talk dirty to me.'

Paul: Paul scoots up close to you in the booth, one hand on your inner thigh, the other arm wrapped round your shoulders. 'I want to do a bit of roleplaying. What would you say to corrupting an unspoilt innocent?'

Rufus: 'But where would we find such and animal?' He shoots you a bland look then grins, 'I'd say, there's always a first time for everything. Seriously. Yes, if you can sustain 'unspoilt innocence' I'm your seducer.' His only concern is whether he can take it seriously but he has faith in your talents.

Paul: 'Oh, I'm ever so good at acting. Or so they all seem to say.' He nods sagely, thumb caressing the line of your cock through your trousers. 'I was figuring you'd say yes. I have a room upstairs already, and a bag awaiting.'

Rufus: He growls softly at you as your thumb strokes him. Picking up his stout, 'This'll be a first. I shout and you don't drink.' He runs his hand along your thigh, just skirting your cock. 'Are we saving the talking till later, then?'

Paul: 'I am not sure I can concentrate on the serious topics of the night until I've felt your cock inside me.'

Rufus: He widens his eyes and smirks over the top of the glass. 'I have the power.' Rufus nudges his forehead against yours, 'Let me at least finish this.' His eyes twinkle and he does fondle your cock now. 'Just who's supposed to be seducing whom?'

Paul: 'I am yours to command, Rufus.' His voice drops, becoming softer, more subservient. 'Perhaps we could talk about your big events of the week.'

Rufus: He sips and watches you, taking in every gesture. 'I thought you said you couldn't concentrate. Anyway. You were there for most of them.' He ticks them off on his fingers, 'You met Stephen, I met Antonio and we all met Michael.' You seem edgy tonight. Rufus takes a final swig and abandons the rest. He can see the role falling over you. 'I see no reason to wait.' He stands and picks up his jacket. 'Come with me.' He holds out his hand.

Paul: He takes your hand and follows. 'Yes, Rufus. When we get upstairs, may I have a few moments to change clothes?'

Rufus: 'Certainly, love.' He smiles indulgently at you and kisses your cheek. 'D'you want to tell me where we're going?'

Paul: He grins and presses a room key in your hand. 'Third floor. The scenario is simple: you've purchased a whore for the night, and paid extra for a virgin. I am a schoolboy whose friend woefully misled him regarding the nature of his new part time job. Think you can get behind that?'

Rufus: Rufus takes the key and takes note of the room number. 'Paul.' He chuckles. 'Tell me you're not going to be wearing short pants?' The lift arrives and he ushers you inside and presses the '3' button.

Paul: 'No short pants. I'm a proper year 11, just incredibly clueless.' He presses close to you, lips sliding along your neck for the duration of the ride.

Rufus: 'That's all right then.' Rufus purrs and runs his fingers through your hair. The lift stops and he heads along the corridor, his arms still around you. 'Here we are. Our own personal den of iniquity.'

Paul: 'Ah, and we shall indeed be iniquitous. Is that a word?' He picks up a bag left there, winks, and disappears into the bathroom. The room looks a bit like a not cheap but not at all nice motel.

Rufus: 'Yes. But I've never heard it used in that context before,' Rufus calls after you, smiling indulgently. He looks around the room. He's clearly not meant to be playing himself, he'd have chosen something much more tasteful he thinks with a grin. But then, he'd never ask for a virgin. As he waits for you he's checking out the rooms... amenities.

Paul: There is absolutely nothing subtle about this room. Restraints are bolted to the bed, there are ball gags, whips, paddles - nothing soft or easy. There's also a manila envelope (recycled - Paul had to have brought it himself) with a 'dossier' inside describing the boy you've bought for the night. He's fifteen, a virgin, as per your request. He is a bit desperate for money, but has no idea why he's here, or what he's to do. The only stipulation is that you don't break his skin...too badly...and that you give him any injuries requiring hospitalization. Other than that, be as gentle or as cruel as you like.

Rufus: Rufus reads the information in the envelope, his eyebrows climbing, 'Fifteen,' he mutters under his breath, 'Bloody hell, Paul.' All right, he thinks, gathering himself as he contemplates his actions. There's a mini bar, he goes and pours himself a Scotch and a vodka and orange for the boy. He decides that he's mildly annoyed they've sent him someone so young, though he realises that the virgin part may not have left them much scope... still. He sits and waits.

Paul: He gives you just about as much time as he figures you need to get into character, then comes out of the bathroom as though coming through the front door. He's wearing the grey trousers, but with a jumper vest, complete with school crest, and a school tie. He's carrying his bookbag and looks for all the world like a confused adolescent boy. "Um..." His eyes dart around with growing panic. "I think I'm in the wrong place."

Rufus: Settling back into the chair, sprawling just a little, Rufus says, 'Really? Where are you supposed to be?'

Paul: "M...my friend Tommy told me I was gonna be runnin' an errand, pickin' up somethin' from you and droppin' it off." He shifts from foot to foot, fair cheeks coloring.

Rufus: 'Ahhh.' Rufus nods, considering his options. Though he has a fetish for virgins, he's not about to debauch one who is unwilling. 'That's not... quite... accurate. There is a service you could provide me.' He holds out the vodka, 'Here. Have a drink. Sit and we'll discuss it.' He smiles in what he hopes is a non threatening way. he likes the look of this boy. 'What's your name?'

Paul: He sidles up to you and takes the drink nervously, choking on the harsh liquor. "Paul, sir." And so polite, too. He sits next to you. "What sort of service?" He takes another sip, getting it right this time.

Rufus: As you sit he runs a light hand along the outside of your thigh. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Paul. I'm Rufus. It seems we've both been led astray here. I believed I was meeting someone who would give me his... company for the evening.' He sips his drink, watching you closely, taking in the blush and the nerves, but also making note of the fine, delicate skin and slender frame. 'I apologise for this room. It is rather... excessive.' He wonders when you'll realise what he is after. And what you're reaction will be... beyond the initial shock of course.

Paul: Paul shifts nervously as you touch his thigh. 'Company?' His voice squeaks. 'You mean...' He looks at the paddles, the gags, eyes widening. 'You want...that? You can't even DO that with me, I'm a boy!' Oh, he's so innocent, so *sweet*, with those blue eyes and blonde hair.

Rufus: That makes Rufus smile. 'You'd be surprised what men can do together, Paul. Haven't you played a little with your friends at school? Talked about what feels good? Tried it out together?' He waves a dismissive hand at the objects in the room. 'Ignore all of that. It's mostly window dressing anyway.'

Paul: "When I was just a kid I wanked off with my best friend." He admits, blushing incandescent red. "But my dad found out and we never spent the night together again."

Rufus: Rufus sighs, 'I take it your father didn't explain anything. He just told you that it was WRONG. How very foolish.' He adds under his breath. He brushes a fingertip over your hot cheeks. 'But it felt good, didn't it?'

Paul: "It IS wrong..." But he doesn't sound overly outraged, and he looks down, lashes lying on his cheeks. "But it...it f..felt really good. I've never done anything else."

Rufus: His hand has moved to the top of your thigh and is pressing a little harder. 'Affection is never wrong, Paul. And pleasure... rarely. I believe your father would have done better to advise you to be careful when, and with whom you do that.' He sidles closer so your thighs are touching. His hand moves slowly to your groin and he strokes it gently, giving you time to stop him.

Paul: He starts and moves back a little, but not before you feel the telltale hardness inside the school trousers. "He definitely said I should beware of strange men asking favours."

Rufus: 'And so you should.' He sips his Scotch and says seriously, 'You are free to leave at any time, Paul. I won't do anything you don't like, I promise. And I'll stop if you say so.' Rufus' fingers are continuing their caress along your thigh, just brushing against that traitorous cock. 'You might find you like it.'

Paul: "I...Any time? But you already paid for the errand. And I need that money, Sir.' He moans, spreading his thighs more than he means to.

Rufus: 'The money is yours whether you stay or go.' Rufus moves his hand back to your erection. 'Next time, I'd make sure you know exactly what it is you are getting paid for. And if your friends set this up, I'd suggest you reconsider the friendship.' He leans across to run his mouth across your cheek to your ear where he nips lightly. 'Who knows what sort of monster I might have turned out to be.' He thinks to himself, or might still turn out to be, you poor innocent.

Paul: He shivers hard at the touch of your mouth on his ear, his hips riding up into your hand with a gasp. "Oh, Rufus. I don't think you're a monster at all. I think...I think you're...b..beautiful." He looks at you with stars in his eyes.

Rufus: He smiles at you. 'Thank you, Paul. I'm flattered. I think you're lovely too. And, if you don't mind, I'm going to kiss you.' He doesn't wait for a response but tugs you against him and kisses you, starting softly and teasing your closes lips with the tip of his tongue.

Paul: Ohh, from the way he moves against your mouth, the startled little whimper-moan you know: this is his first kiss. He thrusts up his hips, hardness leaking a wet patch on his trousers, mouth opening on a gasp and inadvertently letting your tongue inside.

Rufus: This is so very sweet. Rufus deepens the kiss, exploring, then teasing and inviting you to do the same. As he seduces your mouth his fingers go to the fastening of your pants and he nimbly opens the buttons and slides the zipper down. His hand snakes inside.

Paul: Paul's eyes fly wide open, his hands fisting in your shirt. His cock is slick at the tip, quivering in your hand as his back arches. "Ohhh, Rufus! What are you doing?!"

Rufus: 'Just what you did with your friend.' Rufus holds him firmly, his fingers stroking and teasing under the tip, slicking the precome from the tip licking it from his fingers. 'There are so many delightful things we can do together.' He takes Paul's hand and places it on his own groin. 'And see. See what you do to me.'

Paul: He looks at his hand on your crotch, then moans and opens your belt with surprising alacrity, sliding down the zip and reaching inside to feel your grown up cock, more excited by this than by the touch on his own.

Rufus: A little surprised by your enthusiasm but very happy about it, Rufus sighs, 'Oh, yes. That's it, Paul.' He kisses your ear, licking around the edge then moving down to your neck. 'Paul. I'd like you to take your jumper off, and the shirt. Would you do that for me?'

Paul: He shifts and pulls back his hand like it was scalded and sniffs at it without thinking. 'Um. O...okay.' He reaches down and grips the hem of his jumper and pulls it over his head, mussing his short hair. He loosens his tie and pulls it over his head, then unbuttons and slides off his shirt, revealing a smooth, hairless, narrow chest and a sweet, concave belly. 'Is this okay?'

Rufus: 'It's all right, Paul.' Rufus is amused by your reaction but keen to ensure you are not spooked. He undoes the buttons on his own shirt and shrugs it off. 'Everything is fine.' His hand is rubbing soothing circles over your back as you lean forward then he moves to straighten your hair. 'It's better then okay. You have such beautiful skin.' He runs his fingertips down your chest, stopping at a nipple and rubbing more firmly. All the while he's been holding your cock, now he starts to stroke harder.

Paul: His head falls back, mouth open in an 'o'. He mewls at the touch to his nipple, squirming fetchingly as it grows hard against your fingertip. 'Ohhh, Rufus, that feels so good. Mmmm...what did you want to do with me when you...you know. Hired me?'

Rufus: His smile grows at your reaction to his touch and he bends down to lick and then suck the same nipple while his fingers move to the other one. Lifting his head a little, he says, 'I planned to show you what sex is like. How good it can be.' The returns to nip, fairly gently, at your nipple.

Paul: 'How do two men have sex? Is this sex?' He thrusts his cock up into your hand, his own squirming into your trousers to close around yours once more. One long leg slides up to the back of the couch, opening his body to you.

Rufus: 'Yes. This is sex.' Rufus says, continuing the stimulation. 'And there are quite a few ways men can have sex.' He pushes into your hand then slides off the couch taking your hand in his and kissing the palm. Kneeling beside you, his hand stills. 'And so is this.' His fingers circle the base of your cock and he licks across the top, a lush, wet swipe of his tongue, before he takes the head into his mouth.

Paul: His eyes are almost comically wide as he rewards your efforts with a spurt of sweet precome across your tongue. 'Rufus! Sir, isn't that dirty?'

Rufus: Rufus lifts his head and looks up at you, his eyes serious but there is a lurking smile. 'Dirty?' He nuzzles into the joint between you hip and thigh. 'You smell deliciously sweet and clean to me.' The smile becomes a twinkle, 'Naughty? Perhaps. It depends on your point of view I suppose.' He licks up your shaft. 'How does it feel to you, Paul?'

Paul: 'It feels wet, and slippery, and hot. It feels...so good, Rufus. I...ohhh! Is this what you want me to do with you? To have sex with you?' His balls are tight, drawing up against his body, and his hands are clasping and releasing nervously at his sides.

Rufus: Replacing his tongue with his thumb, Rufus nods, 'Yes I do.' His other hand cups your balls and squeezes them gently, then a finger tip starts to tease behind them. 'You're so sweet, so beautiful. I want you to want that too. You'll like it. I promise.'

Paul: 'I would like to lick your...your...um. You. Too.' He squirms as you press behind his sac, the leg across the back of the couch flexing as he pulls his hips up further. 'What...that feels so strange.'

Rufus: 'Would you? I'd like that too.' Rufus stands and puts his hands on the waist of his pants. 'Do you mind if I take these off? We'd both be much more comfortable without them.' He goes ahead and slides his pants and underwear down his legs and steps out of them. 'Is it a good strange? Or a bad strange?'

Paul: 'I...' He loses his train of thought as he stares at your heavy, full prick, tongue touching his lips. He sits forward and scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning forward and oh, so timidly, touching his tongue to the sweet head of your shaft.

Rufus: 'Ah. That's lovely, Paul.' Rufus strokes his hand over your head. 'Just take your time, love.'

Paul: He licks his lips and then drags his tongue over the weeping slit. 'Oh. Oh! That tastes really good. So this is all you want me to do?' He holds the base of your cock and laps at the head over and over and OVER, tantalising but giving you no real fulfillment.

Rufus: Rufus makes a purring sort of sigh. He pulls you up so he can kiss you. It's a deeper kiss this time and as his tongue explores, one hand slides down your back and insinuates itself inside your pants. His fingertips stroke lightly then creep into your crack and rub a little. 'There is more I could show you.'

Paul: 'M...more?' He's getting a little fractious as your fingers delve lower. 'Like what? Why are you in *there*?'

Rufus: Rufus eases his hand back till it's just stroking under your waistband. 'You've liked it so far, haven't you?' He licks at your neck and bites gently. 'Let's just get you out of these...' He starts to push your pants down over your hips, teasing at a nipple as he does so.

Paul: Shivering, he steps out of his pants and then sprawls back on the couch, unselfconsciously alluring. 'I. Yes, I've liked everything so far. But I have no idea what you want to do now.'

Rufus: 'Mmmm.' Rufus runs his hands over your chest. 'Just lay back, Paul. I won't do anything you don't like.' He laps at your navel and then alternates between your cock and your inner thighs while he manages to grab some lube from the stash beside the couch. Slicking his fingers he starts fondling your balls and teasing across your perineum, occasionally slipping back to flick across your hole.

Paul: At the first touch of your finger across his opening his eyes fly wide opening. 'Ew! Why do you want to be playing back there?' But his hips are squirming and his cock certainly isn't complaining.

Rufus: 'Let me show you.' He presses soft kisses along your hip bone. 'Shhhh, baby. Just let me show you.' He croons and continues the kisses on your cock. 'I'll stop if you don't like it. Let me show you, Paul.' As he reaches the crown he slides his mouth back over your cock and, at the same time, slips a finger inside you reaching quickly for your prostate and rubbing across it to as he sucks you in.

Paul: 'Rufus!!' He cries out your name, passage spasming around your finger as his cock throbs thickly in your mouth, catapulted to the brink of orgasm. 'Oh YES, please please more!'

Rufus: 'You sure, baby?' Rufus pets your chest and adds a second finger. He quickly, unobtrusively gets on a condom, and, slicking more lube over his cock, he shifts you carefully until he can get between your long legs. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your cock once more and positions his cock ready to slide into you. Wrapping his arms around you he eases you off the couch and into his lap, onto his cock. 'Fuck. YES. Paul!' He hugs you against him, arching his hips up and down in small thrusts

Paul: He's clenched up tight, muscles quivering as he gives you the illusion that you're fucking a virgin. He screams, eyes panicky - he didn't know 'more' meant THIS. He's frozen beneath you for a long moment, then he twists violently.

Rufus: 'Shhhh. Paul. It's all right.' Slightly alarmed by your realism, Rufus holds you tight and strokes your hair, then your back in long soothing strokes. 'Relax, Paul.' He pitches his voice lower and firmer, 'Relax! Breath, love. Breathe and relax.' He starts to rock, all the while holding you and murmuring reassurances.

Paul: 'It's...' His brow furrows and he tries his best to do as you ask, to breathe and relax. Soon the tremors in his belly subside and he's lying compliant beneath you, looking at you with a mixture of shock and revelation.

Rufus: Rufus bows his head and rests it on your chest for a moment. Then he kisses your breast bone and licks up until he hits your chin. 'Okay, love? You feel so tight and hot around me. So good, Paul.' He starts stroking your cock again, rubbing his thumb over the crown and then around and under to find just the right spot.

Paul: Slowly, almost painfully, the long legs wrap around your hips, and just as gradually he starts rocking back down on your cock. 'It feels...so full. Burns a little. But...I think I like it.'

Rufus: 'You think?' Rufus smiles at you and raises an eyebrow. He eases out about halfway and then pushes back in, rubbing back and forth over your prostate. 'Does that feel good?' Your cock is hard and slick in his hand. 'Such a beautiful boy.' He begins thrusting, slowly increasing pace.

Paul: His back arches in a long, graceful bow. 'Oh, I do. I DO like it, you make it so good, Sir.' His cock is throbbing in a low, impatient rhythm in your hand and he reaches up and touches your cheek softly, leaning up for a kiss. 'Is this allowed?'

Rufus: 'That's very much allowed.' Rufus meets you for the kiss and follows you back down so he can do it properly, a long, slow, ravishing meeting of two mouths. He can see that you are enjoying this. He buries himself deep in side you and stops thrusting. His hand just cradling your cock, fingers idly stroking he looks at you. 'So? Would you like me to stop?' His eyes are serious.

Paul: 'No. No, please don't stop. I'm...I'm doing this all right?' He's so eager to please you now, so worried that he won't be good enough for such a beautiful, experienced man.

Rufus: 'You're doing it perfectly, love.' Rufus starts moving again, steady, powerful thrusts that make you shift on the couch. He leans forward and hooks his arms under you, his hands curled over your shoulders so he can pull you down into his thrusts. You are lying plastered together now, your cock rubbing against his belly. He starts to kiss you again, nipping at your lips and making soft moaning sounds.

Paul: Ohh, he loves this. He's melted to your body, legs crossed at the ankle behind your back. His cock leaves trails of precome to slick the path between you, his fingers stroking and petting your pretty curly hair in fascination. 'I...I think I'm going to...' He doesn't know how to say it.

Rufus: 'Yes, Paul.' He's close himself, 'Come for me, baby.' He circles his hips as he thrusts and nuzzles your neck. 'Want you to come for me. Now, love.'

Paul: Paul shudders, hips growing absolutely frantic in the last few moments before he jerks up off the couch and cries out your name, coming long and hard, spending against your bellies for what feels like forever.

Rufus: Your climax triggers his. Rufus' thrusts become erratic and he comes, a final, shuddering spasm and a low wordless groan. His head falls to your shoulder, 'Paul.' He holds you tight as he regains his breath. After a moment he pushes himself up a fraction so he can look at your face. 'You all right, love?'

Paul: 'I love it when you call me baby and croon to me.' Paul's out of character, looking at you with bright, soft, loving blue eyes. 'It makes me feel all warm and tingly.'

Rufus: Rufus smiles down at you. 'Warm and tingly, eh?' He rubs the tip of his nose over yours. 'Was I crooning? I love taking care of you. You're usually such an independent thing.' He eases out of you and deals with the condom then he lies back down. 'What on earth brought that fantasy on?'

Paul: 'I wanted to see if I could bring out the dirty old man lurking inside you.' He wraps around you again. 'And also...I really wanted to have a redux of my first time - but have it go well this time.'

Rufus: He considers the scene. 'Did it work do you think? I guess I was rather sleazy. It goes with the set up.' He grins and then stokes your face. 'It did go well, love. Didn't it?

Paul: 'Oh, it went beautifully. I loved every second of it. Stop fretting at once, you know you always make me feel loved and cherished, even when we're being raunchy and dirty.'

Rufus: 'I thought it did, but you know me.' His eyes offer apologies for his foibles. 'I'm glad, 'cause you are you know. Mind you, you scared the living daylights out of me when you screamed. You're a bloody good actor, lovey.'

Paul: He kisses your eyes, one then the other. 'So I hear, sweetheart. Sorry I scared you...it was bloody great fun to be so deep into character, though.'

Rufus: 'Good. It was fun. Now I know why I never had virgin fetish. It's hard work.' He looks at the bed. 'We might be more comfortable over there. And I'm sorry, but this is a really tacky room, mate. I'd never have hired it, dirty old man or not.'

Paul: 'I sort of like it. Seedy is fun sometimes. What if we were playing *sleazy* rent boy, instead of shy virgin?' His hand rubs circles on your belly as he nuzzles close. 'Sorry to tell you about the baby thing like I did...on journal and all. I just couldn't hold it in.'

Rufus: Rufus ponders that. 'Yes. Sometimes. Sleazy rent boy could be fun.' He chuckles then quiets. 'That's all right, love. It's fantastic news. I'm surprised you didn't stand in the street and yell it to all of London.' He twists and pops a kiss on your cheek. 'Is Salma moving in too? How will the custody part work?'

Paul: 'She'll be getting a place in London. The first baby will be mine, and Antonio and I will raise him, with Salma there as more a close Aunt, but not sharing custody. He'll be ours. The second baby will be Antonio's, and will live with her, and we won't share custody, but will be close uncles.'

Rufus: 'You have got it all worked out.' He nods. 'I'm actually quite excited about it myself, now it's sunk in. It'll be nice to have a littley about.' Rufus stretches and then settles back against you. 'Be nice to meet Salma too. And, um... I'm touched by the name.' He looks a little sheepish making that admission.

Paul: He laughs and hitches a long leg over your hips. 'It had to be done. Fortunately for the child, I can't think of feminine variants for any of them.'

Rufus: Rufus returns your laugh. 'Now that would be truly unkind.' He moves to accommodate your leg more comfortably. 'Have you a time scale worked out? When do I need to buy the swing set for the back garden?'

Paul: 'I'd say you have a good couple of years. I think we'll be starting the attempts very soon, but this is hardly a science. Well, I suppose to some it may be, but we're doing it the proper way, all biological-like. And I really, really don't think it's going to interfere with you and me - as long as you don't mind coming to my house. I'm not ashamed of you, or of the way I live my life.'

Rufus: 'Course I don't mind - as long as it doesn't upset things. I'm not ashamed of you either, love.' Rufus gives you a serious look that transforms into a fond smile. 'Though if you don't think an active child isn't going to change things... All I can say is I plan to watch with amusement.'

Paul: 'Oh, I know an active child will change many things...change is fine, even healthy. I just think that what Daddy does in the locked bedroom after his bedtime is liable to remain intact. I won't be going out very much, or having more than a bare handful of people over, but I don't think you could scrub the kink out of me with a wire brush.'

Rufus: 'There are such things as baby-sitters you know.' Rufus pokes you gently. 'No. It will be a good change. And there's time to get used to the idea too.'

Paul: 'I'm saving all the babysitter nonsense for when I have to be gone, like premieres and interviews and such.' He yelps, pretending offense. 'Bastard.'

Rufus: 'Me?' Rufus gives you his very best innocent look then nips at your jaw. 'You'll be a wonderful father, Paul.' He sighs and wriggles getting even more comfortable. 'This is nice.'

Paul: 'It is. Love you.' Paul smiles sweetly and kisses across your chest. 'Thank you for indulging me.'

Rufus: Rufus runs his fingers through you hair. 'Love you too.' His fingers trail down to your back, petting gently. 'Any time, Paul. I like indulging the people I care for.'

boggles

ailei@texas.net — Thu, 08 Jan 2004 15:40:59 GMT

[friends locked]

I'm going to be a father. Not a stepfather...a *father*. Of my own biological child. Yes, your greatest fears are about to come true: the Bettany is going to spawn.

However, since Salma is the other half of the equation (more than half - who are we kidding? my work in the matter comprises roughly ten seconds of ejaculation) I suspect the child will be more possessed of grace and beauty than I could ever imagine.

Yes, before any of you (I'm looking at you, Rufus darling) start fretting, we do have things worked out, and there will be all sorts of legal papers and whatnot before we actually get around to conceiving. And yes, I am absolutely beyond over the moon.

If it's a boy? Matthew Javier Rufus Bettany. The poor darling. Let's hope for a girl, shall we?

Friends Locked

ailei@texas.net — Mon, 29 Dec 2003 14:35:17 GMT

Such a busy season, it's been. I seem to be a stepfather, and I absolutely love it. Antonio's daughter is a riot - absolutely my new partner in crime. I suspect Melanie will hate me even more for sending her daughter home a vegetarian. *evil grin* The girl digs my cooking, what can I say? Stella also seems remarkably at ease with the fact that I am somewhat differently equipped from any step-parent she was probably expecting, although the first couple of days were a bit dodgy (to put it mildly).

She gave me more than a couple of evil looks until I took her out, just the two of us, and bought her cocoa and pastries and explained a thing or two about the Real World (tm) as opposed to Mummy's World (tm). Once I'd told her that I did NOT steal her father from her mother, and that separation proceedings had started before we'd even met, and that an attraction to men was hardly a new thing for her father, the light bulb just went on. She looked at me, very seriously, and said 'Mom drinks too much'. I asked her, then, if she would like to live with us. Very intelligently, she informed me that she'd give me her opinion at the end of the week, when she knows me a little better. I could hardly ask for better than that, although now I will be fretting until I hear her decision tomorrow. Not to mention all the fretting about her being with her mother.

In other news, I've been spending some quality time with my guitar, and I've finally managed to master the fingering for 'Grey Street', which is a bitch let me tell you. I am well-content: I've been trying to learn it for months. I shall have to inflict it upon you all at the first possible moment.

There will be individual notes going out, of course, but thank you all for all the lovelies I've received over the past few days. I am truly a blessed man.

Phone Call, Paul/Rufus, late Saturday afternoon

ailei@texas.net — Sun, 28 Dec 2003 16:21:27 GMT

[after spending all morning and most of the afternoon at the stables with the horses, Paul goes for a shower and it occurs to him he hasn't called to thank Rufus for the pretty new silk robe. players, not pups.]

Paul rings you around three in the afternoon on Saturday.

The family commitments have been done and Stephen has headed off to the gym. Rufus is happy to be able to just potter about the house, soft music on the stereo and a cup of coffee in his hand. The phone rings. He looks around for the handset, locates it and picks it up. 'Hello, Rufus speaking.'

'Really?' Paul's voice is low and amused. 'Imagine the luck.' He's curled up on his and Antonio's bed while Stella and her father watch a DVD in the living room. 'I'm wearing the robe right now.'

'Paul!' He flops onto the couch, smiling. 'You survived the festivities. Well done.' He's twists Paul's bracelet around his wrist. 'Yeah? You like it?' Stupid question really, you'd hardly tell him if you didn't, he thinks. 'I'm wearing the bracelet too.'

'My survival isn't entirely assured yet. We still have two more days. Yes, sweetheart, I adore it. I feel positively decadent with all this silk against my bare skin.' There's a pause, and a soft rustle of said silk as he turns onto his back and stretches. 'I imagine it looks beautiful on you.'

'Good. I thought you might. You'll have to model it for me sometime.' He lifts his hand and looks at the dense, intricate loops of precious metal, feels the weight. 'It's gorgeous, love. And it feels fabulous.'

'I wonder if it's sturdy enough to function as a cuff? I suppose it could, if you were a good boy and didn't struggle.' He purrs. 'Mmmm, I MISS you.'

'It feels sturdy enough, but I'd hate to damage it,' he inspects it, shivering at your words. 'I'd have to be very good.' He murmurs agreement as he puts his coffee down. 'Miss you too, Paul.'

'I was just in the shower, and I couldn't help thinking about you. We've never made love in the shower, and that's a shame. You would look beautiful with those dark curls slicked back under the spray as I knelt at your feet and sucked hungrily at your cock.'

'Paul' Rufus wails as the image hits him. 'Bloody hell, you might warn me. I thought you were being a responsible parent.' He shifts to ease the suddenly tight jeans. 'There's still time, you know. For a shower... or several.' He wonders how things will be when Antonio is living with you all the time. 'We really have... perhaps not bad... but certainly interesting timing' he sighs.

'Interesting indeed. Surely you don't need a warning that I am liable to be perverse at any given moment.' He turns onto his stomach, pressing his erection into the silk, and into the mattress. 'I am very responsible. I have no intention of starting to wank when Stella could come in. You, on the other hand...are you alone?' His voice is rough and low.

'There is that.' He concedes your perversity. 'Yeah. All alone.' His voice matching yours.

'Oh, Rufus I am very glad to hear that. Is your prick stiffening, trapped inside your pants? Do you like hearing me tell you what I would like to do to you?'

'Yes, love.' He smiles and squirms. 'I adore hearing you say all the naughty things you want to do.' The smile turns slightly wicked. 'I suppose now isn't the time to tell you how I imagine you sprawled out over that luscious silk?'

'Oh yes...Tell me all about it. I've been imagining your hands on the outside of the silk, shaping it to my skin and caressing me with it, fluttering the end of the sash over my achingly hard nipples, then over the head of my cock.' His hips shift, subtly pumping against the bed despite his best intentions.

"So have I. Oh, so have I. Feeling your lovely hard muscles through all that wonderfully sensuous fabric. Wrapping it around the two of us while we tangle together naked.' He's put his hand over his cock, just holding himself through the denim.

'I like the way you think. I like the thought of your heavy body pressing me down into the mattress, your clever fingers winding the sash around my wrists and tying them to the bed. Your insistent hands seeking my flesh beneath the fabric as I wrap my legs around your bare back and moan, needing your prick inside my grasping little pucker.'

'Hmmm. You'd feel so good. That lovely pale skin of yours, smooth and pliant against the dark silk. My hands seeking out every sensitive place and making love to each one. Teasing you until you're begging me.' His hips push up into his hand but he still hasn't opened his fly.

'Oooh, I would beg, too. My cock so hard, dripping precome as I arch pitifully up into your body. There would be a gorgeous, throbbing ache inside me as my hole twitches. I would spread my thighs and tilt up my hips, pleading for your tongue, your fingers, your prick, anything you'll give me.'

'I'd give you it all, love. Slither down to nip at the delicate skin inside your thighs before I licked at your opening and slid slick fingers inside, two maybe three, curling them and finding your sweet spot. Stroking it, making you writhe for me while I lap up the juices you're giving me. My hair ticking your belly. I'd be so hard for you, Paul. So bloody hard... just like I am now.'

'What do you plan on doing about that pulsing ache between your thighs, Rufus? Is it getting worse? Are you leaking now? I bet you haven't even unzipped your pants yet. Would you do that for me now, while I imagine opening up for your fingers so sweetly, clenching, then relaxing around them, so open for you that it's absolutely torture to be so empty.'

His head is resting back and he sighs as he finally releases his cock, taking it in his hand and rubbing his thumb across the silky head. He gathers the precome and licks it from his thumb. 'Got it out now. Wish you were here, Paul. Wish it was your hand, your fingers on me. Wish I could see you spread out for me.'

'God, Rufus, if I were there...' He makes a low, achingly frustrated noise, then sits up. 'I can't take this. I have to go lock myself in the bathroom. Would you like to listen as I fuck myself on a dildo?' His voice is a rough purr as he opens a drawer, then closes it, then goes into the faintly echoey bathroom and closes and locks the door.

'Ahhh, Paul.' Rufus sighed as he lazily fisted his cock, keeping the sensation as gentle as he could, waiting for you. 'Love to listen to you, sweetheart. Love to have you in front of me... or over my lap so I could push the dildo slowly, slowly into you. Feel you shiver as it presses across your prostate.'

'Mmmm, this lovely creation has a suction cup base, so I can attach it to things. God, this robe feels like sin on my skin.' There's the unmistakable sound of lube squirting out of a tube. 'Mmmm...FUCK, baby. All this talk of your tongue and your fingers inside me as made me ache to be impaled on your cock. I have my fingers wrapped around the dildo, stroking the lube into it, and my little hole is twitching for it.'

'How clever.' He grins as he pictures you, there's no elegant way to do what you're doing but the image is as sexy as hell all the same. 'Must buy you more silk, love. It seems to inspire you.' Rufus lies out across the couch and lifts to push his jeans down around his knees. 'I'd be scratching my nails down your chest and then licking back up to suck on your nipples as you get yourself ready.' He does this to himself and moans softly. 'Is it like my cock? Will you be imagining me driving into you?'

'It is, Rufus. It's very like yours - that's why I chose it. I've got it slick, shining...tell me something, Rufus. Should I baby myself by using my fingers first to open my pucker, or should I just straddle this luscious prick and sit right down on it?'

'Hmmm. What a decision? But. Since you ask... I want you to sit on it. Get in position just so. Think of me taking hold of your lovely, hard cock and stroking it, while you lean against my chest and slide down. The prick is hard. It fills you just like I would. I can feel you tight around me.' He closes his eyes, the better to visualise you. 'It's hard, unyielding, perfect to fuck yourself on. Wish it was me, love.'

The sound he makes as the wide head breaches his pucker is carnal and shameless, a low, wanton groan. 'Ohh, FUCK, Rufus...it feels so good. So big and I can feel every vein, every inch as I strain to take it into me. My prick is bobbing, God, throbbing so hard. If you were here, I'd paint your lips with my precome and kiss them clean.'

'That's it, love.' He moans at the sound of you. He gathers his own precome and licks it from his fingers. 'I'm licking my lips. You taste so good. I can feel you, Paul, tight and hot. I can see you. So long and lean and wanton.' He tucks the phone under his chin. 'I can feel myself sinking into you. Want you to lift up till your almost off and then take it all in again.'

'Ohhh...the head stretches out my opening, but I feel so empty at the same time.' He cries out as he sinks back down on the rubber cock. 'Squeeze your fist tight, so tight around your prick, and imagine me pulsing around you. Fuck, I could come just from this, from the tip rubbing against my sweet spot.'

He licks his palm and wraps it around his cock, squeezing and twisting a little. 'So tight, Paul. So good. I could come from listening to your voice.' He sighs huskily, 'Feel so good, love. You're tight around me. I can feel you as you shift and squirm. Want to push up into you. Want to fuck you, gorgeous.'

'Mmm, I'm fucking you now, baby, can't you feel it?' There's an obscene, incredibly hot squelching sound as he rides the well-lubed dildo, and then a guttural, earthy grunt as he grinds down at the bottom of each thrust. 'I'm loving every second of you in me, every inch as you start to lose all that CONTROL and just FUCK me, growling and moaning beneath me.'

'Oh, yes.' Rufus strokes himself harder, faster as the sounds hit him. 'So good.' He cups his balls and rolls them between his fingers, moaning and gasping as his fingers slide over the head of his cock and across the sensitive underside. 'Feel you surrounding me. Love it, Paul.' The moan turns harsh. His breath is ragged and interspersed with gasps. 'Fuck. So fucking good...' He arches off the cushions. 'Gonna come inside you. So deep you're gonna taste me baby.'

'Ah, GOD, let me come with you, please? I'm so close, you fill me up just perfectly, and fuck, I don't even have my hand on my cock...' He mewls, whimpers, begs, hips moving in achingly hard, deep circles on the dildo.

'Yes. Ahh, yes, love. Come with me, baby. You feel so good.' His hand is moving in just the perfect rhythm, his hips lifting a little each time to thrust into his fist. 'Want you with me. Want you to come for me, love.' The delicious pressure is clamouring to explode. He groans, 'Now, love. Come for me. NOW.'

Oh, he loves it when you call him baby, when your voice gets ragged and desperate. 'For you, Rufus, for you...' And his orgasm rips from him, shocking in its intensity as he clenches around the big dildo and spurts hard, over his belly, and the floor. He is obviously trying to stifle his cries, his teeth sinking into his fist as his screams mute to small, strangled cries that sound like your name.

The sound of you coming for him, in a bathroom halfway across town, makes him moan and rock. His hand is pulling his own climax from him but he's fighting himself to wait long enough to hear you. The muffled, almost desperate cries do it. He wails, 'Paul.' and arches hard into his hand once, then falls back this hips jerking.

'Mmm, Rufus...' He groans as he lifts off the dildo, collapsing into a puddle on the thick bathmat. 'I love hearing you come. I love you.'

'Love you too, Paul.' Rufus licks his fingers lazily. 'You all right, love? Bathroom's not the most comfortable place. Imagine me hugging you now. And kissing would be in order too.'

'Ohh, I could do with some kisses right about now. I'm fine...resilient, y'know.' He stretches and you hear the water running as he makes himself stand and clean up, and put the toy away. 'Amazing how innocent I look when you wash all the come off.'

'You are extremely resilient, I know. Nonetheless, consider yourself soundly kissed.' Rufus takes your cue and heads for the downstairs bathroom. 'Good thing really. If there was some sign that people had just had sex it'd really liven things up. Or make a whole lot of people much less active.' He chuckles.

He laughs, low and hoarse. 'I better get dressed. I've swanned quite enough for one day. When can I see you in person? We have some things to talk about.'

'Well, I was thinking of having you over for a meal when the family's gone. So you and Stephen can finally MEET.' He thinks about what you've said. 'That may not be the time for a heart to heart, if that's what you mean. We can have a drink whenever you like, pretty much whenever anyway. Are you all right? Is it urgent?'

'No, it's not urgent, love. I really want to meet Stephen, and for you to meet Antonio. Just...we have some thinking to do about how all this is going to work.'

'I suppose we do.' Rufus nods. He finishes washing and fastens his jeans. 'Antonio's moving in with you, I take it?' He thinks as he goes back to the sitting room. 'Yes. I suppose it could get messy.' He sighs. 'I hope not. I'd really miss you, love.' He says softly.

'I'm not going to let anything happen to us, baby. Whatever 'us' is.' He smiles. 'I just want to make sure everyone's getting what he needs.'

He appreciates the sentiment though he's not entirely sure you can promise that. Perhaps it's just his usual tendency to try to anticipate the worse outcome in the hope he can fix it. 'I'm not either, if I can possibly help it. And yeah, that sounds perfect. And what's more, it makes sense. It'll help when everyone has met. At least then we'll know if there are any personality, um... clashes.'

'You're getting gloomy, aren't you? Just relax, love. It'll be all right. I promise.'

'Yes, love.' He chuckles, "Yeah, I am. I'll stop it. Did you say Antonio and Stella are leaving on the 30th? How about I feed you that night?'

'Mmm. I am technically flying over with them.' You can hear the pout. 'Well, you can donate frequent flyer miles to all sorts of charities.'

'Oh, well then... When you get back. Hey. Does that mean you'll be in New York for New Year? That could be fun.'

'Hmm. I guess so.' He laughs. 'Hadn't thought about it, but I don't suppose I want to spend New Year's in the air.'

'Course you don't. Not if you don't have to.' He smiles. 'We'll do dinner as soon as you get back. Now, you'd better make an appearance or they'll think you're ill. Stuck away in the bathroom all this time.'

'Yes, how unpleasant. I'll call you soon, sweetheart. Thank you for this.'

'No need to thank me, love. Have a good trip. I can't wait for my 'boyfriends' to get together.'

'Me neither. Good bye, love.'

'Bye, Paul.' He puts down the phone and ambles off to get fresh coffee.

For Antonio, the Very Adult Presents

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 27 Dec 2003 19:27:00 GMT

[opened late, late Christmas Eve, after Stella's sound asleep]

You wouldn't believe how hard it was to hide this:

I saw it and thought of being tied down upon it, innocent slave to your lust...Mmm. Maybe my leonine Lord would use these:

And, if I am especially ~~good~~ naughty, these:

And because I am not 100% a selfish cunt:

Mi amor,

You have swept into my life and taken me places I've only ever known in dreams, and then lost upon the waking. Wherever I wander, know that I am yours above all, now and forever.

Your Paul

[tucked away, handwritten from memory, this chapter of Kahlil Gibran's 'The Prophet']

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Chat Log, bettany/vincent_cassel

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 27 Dec 2003 15:54:01 GMT

[players, not pups. happened on 23 December, in the afternoon, while Antonio was out doing father/daughter things with Stella.]

Paul: He arrives right on time, wearing jeans and a dark blue mock-turtleneck sweater, and black doc maarten shoes.

Vincent: Vincent is in white, mandarin style shirt and black trousers, complete with soft brown leather trench and boots.

Paul: Paul grins widely as he spots you, and heads to the table. When he gets there, he pulls you into a hug. He smells of herbs and woods, low and subtle and probably something organic and made in an indigenous co-op somewhere.

Vincent: Vincent laughs and wraps you in a tight hug, pulling back to kiss each of your cheeks. "Mon ami! It has been far too long."

Paul: 'It HAS. I have to confess I was shocked to see in Monica's journal that you'd both forsaken Paris.' He seems quite content to stay close to you, riffling a hand through your hair before sitting down opposite you.

Vincent: "It was a bout of insanity on both of our parts, I'm sure."

Paul: 'Hopefully I can find some small way to alleviate your wretched episodes of madness.'

Vincent: "Oh dear, perhaps you can at that. I presume you have come chock full of ideas hmm?"

Paul: 'I never make assumptions, Vincent. I am simply thrilled to see you again. What happens during a shoot doesn't always translate out into the real world, does it?'

Vincent: "No my friend, the two worlds are separate entities." he pauses and smiles "Now, tell me what you've been doing these last few months, and tell me of your Antonio."

Paul: He actually blushes a little. 'Well...what's there to say? I've been all over the world, fallen head over heels in love with a man most women in the world would cheerfully gut me to get next to, and now I'm trying to get it all to settle in my head.'

Vincent: He laughs and claps his hands together. "Wonderful! I am so happy for you Paul."

Paul: 'And you? You're becoming quite the sensation.' He grins and rolls his eyes. 'It's about time, too. You've been rocking my little world for years.'

Vincent: "Oh? Am I now? How do you figure?" He leans forward, elbow on the smooth table top, cheek resting on his fist.

Paul: 'Between Les Pactes des Loupes and Irreversible?' His French accent is more than passable. 'Please, false modesty does not suit.' He winks.

Vincent: Vincent laughs and sits back. "Oui, I had an incredible actress to keep me inspired."

Paul: 'You did at that. How is Monica? She seems happy with her kitten.'

Vincent: He sighs wistfully. "My Belle is wonderful. It's been a long time since she's been this free. After Irreversible..." He shakes his head. "Melanie has brought her out of her darkness, and they shine together."

Paul: 'You put in a lot of time with her after that experience - I remember you on the phone with her constantly.' He leans forward, smiling. 'I admired the hell out of you for that. I wanted that same sort of relationship for myself.'

Vincent: "Oh, she was shattered. How could I not be there for her? Monica is... She is my best friend, my lover, my.. soul-mate if you will. When she is hurting, I feel the pain as well." He chuckles. "I fear it sounds terribly cliche."

Paul: 'No...no, it doesn't. Antonio went through a fairly traumatic experience a couple of months ago, and God...it is agonizing, feeling your loved one cry in your arms.'

Vincent: He nods with complete understanding. "It rips at your heart when there's nothing you can do but hold them, no? Is he better now?"

Paul: 'Yes...in the end, after the betrayal was processed, we realised it didn't make such a terribly big difference after all.' He reaches out and touches your hand gently, fingertips sliding along the fine, delicate skin of your wrist. 'Monica seems to be blooming, as well. I'd say we do good work.'

Vincent: He turns his hand palm up, fingertips pressing against your skin. "Oui. Love heals most wounds."

Paul: 'Aw, that was terribly Gallic of you, love. Should I go 'what ho, cheerio' now?' He leans over the table and presses his lips to your palm.

Vincent: "I thought so too. And no, perhaps you could quote something romantic while I peeled grapes and fed them to you."

Paul: 'Mmm, grapes. Your devotion is astonishing.'

Vincent: "Not really, I wouldn't take the seeds out."

Vincent: He smirks.

Paul: 'I look terrible in asphyxiation.' He tsks and shakes his head.

Vincent: "Really? I always thought you'd look divine with my fingers wrapped around your throat."

Paul: 'It's the long neck - everyone wants to throttle it.' He touches his tongue to his upper lip.

Vincent: "Mm, I see." He purrs and lifts your hand to his lips, suckling on your knuckles, half-lidded eyes sparkling.

Paul: Paul squirms in his seat, blue eyes darkening. 'That shouldn't feel half so naughty as it does.' A foot presses to the inside of your knee.

Vincent: "And you, darling, shouldn't be nearly as edible as you are."

Paul: 'I am taking this as evidence that you wouldn't mind reviving our old...traditions?'

Vincent: "Mmm, I would love to. Alas, this poor booth wouldn't survive the ordeal." Grinning wickedly.

Paul: 'I have it on fairly good authority that there are absolutely mad options for privacy around here.' He nods sagely.

Vincent: "Really? How fortunate for us. Would you care to lead the way gorgeous?"

Paul: 'I should be ashamed of myself for being THIS easy.' He sits up and scoots out of the booth, and holds out his hand.

Vincent: "Whatever for? Why waste a perfectly good afternoon flirting when we could be naked, sweaty and writhing in pleasure?"

Vincent: He chuckles softly and takes your hand, climbing to his feet.

Paul: 'You do make an excellent point. Only one thing - no marks visible outside of clothing. Not something I'm ready to explain to Stella.' He twines his fingers with yours and leads you upstairs. 'Other than that, I am at your mercy.'

Vincent: "Of course my dear. Have you made any changes to your checklist I need to know?" Squeezing your fingers.

Paul: 'No, except that I've expanded my horizons a bit. Lot higher pain threshold, etc. Nothing's been taken off though.'

Vincent: He nods. "Good, I think today is simply a day to reacquaint ourselves with each other. No need to push anything, what do you think?"

Paul: 'I think that sounds lovely, Vincent.' His voice drops in timbre already, growing softer, more subservient.

Vincent: "Ooh now that's lovely darling." He releases your hand and circles his fingers around your wrist, squeezing.

Paul: 'Thank you, Sir.' His breath hitches, and suddenly it seems far too long until the end of the hall, and the room he has in mind.

Vincent: He walks beside you, easily slipping into his own headspace, his back a little straighter, head held a little higher.

Paul: Finally you reach the door, and he gestures. 'If it pleases you, Sir, this is a room I have found satisfactory in the past.' When you open the door, you see a room lit by a fire, with a large, medieval four poster bed, and all the luxuries one might expect. It's a lovely room, and highly versatile and functional.

Vincent: Vincent paces off the room, studying everything before turning his attention back to you. "Perfect. Come here and present my sweet."

Paul: He falls easily to his knees, hands lacing behind his head. He's already getting hard, even as he drops his eyes demurely down to the ground.

Vincent: He slowly circles you then stops directly behind. "Lovely Paul. Now stand and undress, and let me see you."

Paul: Standing, he goes to the side and undresses, slowly but not provocatively, laying his clothes neatly over the chest there. When he's finished, he stands before you naked, cock hard and jutting up. He puts his hands back behind his neck so you can see properly.

Vincent: He sighs softly. "Just as lovely as I remember. Come. Undress me."

Paul: He flushes with pleasure at the compliment. 'Yes, Sir.' A few steps and he's standing in front of you, deft, gentle fingers making short work of your shirt buttons, soft fingertips fluttering along the sweet skin as he exposes it one button at a time.

Vincent: Vincent watches each little movement and he can't help but smile. You were always a beauty to watch and time seems to have refined you.

Paul: Paul slides the shirt from your shoulders, folding it carefully and laying it across a chair. He drops to his knees, blond head down as he presses a kiss to one instep, then the other before removing your shoes and socks and setting them meticulously aside as well. He unbuckles your belt and unzips your trousers, nose pressed just below your navel as he slides the fabric down your slender hips.

Vincent: He steps from his trousers, hands resting lightly on your shoulders. "I could still watch you for hours darling." He leaves you where you are and walks across to one of the more comfortable chairs in the room. "You know how I adore looking at you Paul. Show me your body, touch yourself, but, of course, do not come."

Paul: His long back arches as he stretches, and you can hear the purring all the way across the room. Large, long-fingered hands trace a delicate path along his jawline, down his graceful neck, across the wings of his clavicles. 'Does Sir wish for this one to touch himself in any particular way?' After what seems like forever, his fingers close around his tiny, pink nipples and squeeze brutally, provoking a gasp and a rough jerk of his prick.

Vincent: "Whatever pleases you, but leave no marks. That is my pleasure."

Paul: He bites his lip and drops into a squat, knees wide apart, cock hanging heavily between his thighs. Ohh, this is a game he loves - inventing endless pleasures for his Master with nothing but his own two hands and yards of pale, creamy flesh. He continues to torment his nipples scratching his nails over the erect buds and making them darken to a red that will fade as soon as he stops. One hand slides up to his mouth and he suckles the fingers before dropping them down, past his balls, between his arse cheeks to tease his little pucker.

Vincent: "Mmm." He settles back in the plush chair, one leg tossed casually over the armrest. Long fingers wrapped around his prick, stroking slowly. "You enjoy performing, yes? Get what you need, let me see those sinful fingers fucking your body open."

Vincent: Paul: 'Sir, this one doesn't need anything but spit and your eyes on him to open up and get ready.' He spits onto his fingers and turns away from you, pressing his forehead to the floor and letting his knees slide far apart. He probes the pink, whorled pucker with a saliva-slick finger and pushes down, making it pulse invitingly as he penetrates the tender, vulnerable flesh with a surprisingly rough jab, eliciting an aching moan.

Vincent: "Oooh, you are a wicked little thing." Vincent's voice is a bit hitched. "Bring me something to bind your cock and balls. I think I need to be thorough."

Paul: He mewls as he pulls his fingers away, little hole grasping after them, and when he crawls to the chest in the corner of the room, you can see that he's dripping precome onto the floor, fully in headspace. He chooses a particularly vicious little torture device that separates and binds the testicles and constricts the cock. His teeth close around it and he brings it to you on his hands and knees.

Vincent: He leans forward and lifts your chin with one long finger. "Perfect. Now stand and present." He snakes his tongue out to lap at the salty precome on the head of your prick then wraps the heated flesh in the restraint. He's careful to fasten it tight, pressing the pads of his fingers up against your perineum. "How is that Paul?"

Paul: He whimpers, eyes half-lidded and a little glazed. 'It's perfect, Sir.' Shivering, he starts to press closer to you, but restrains himself at the last moment, fingers tightening in the flesh of his neck as he holds his position.

Vincent: Vincent feathers his fingers out over your thighs, then to your hips and belly. "I am sorely tempted to keep you right here all day, just so I can look upon you."

Paul: 'If it pleases you, Sir, you may do as you wish.' His delicate, thin, creamy white skin shivers under your fingertips.

Vincent: "Oh yes, I know Paul." He purrs. "Now retrieve cuffs and the short chains to bind them, and choose a nice heavy paddle for me."

Paul: 'Yes, Sir.' Back on his knees, he crawls to the chest and retrieves the items you requested, returning them to you one at a time in his mouth and laying them at your feet. The cruel strap has turned his cock a dusky, deep purple.

Vincent: "Perfect." He takes the restraints and fastens your wrists behind the back of your neck, then kneels down and cuffs each ankle, picking up the paddle. "How is your balance?"

Paul: 'Good, if it pleases you, Sir.' His skin is flushed with anticipation.

Vincent: "You please me Paul." He slides the smooth wood across your shoulders and down your spine. "What is your safeword? I understand you may be too far gone to use it."

Paul: 'Guitar, Sir.' He murmurs, arching into the path of the paddle.

Vincent: "I expect that you do not hold anything back, I want to hear every breath, every moan and every cry." He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder and steps back. The first strike isn't jarring, but it's hard enough to warm the skin comfortably, leaving a red welt across your ass.

Paul: 'Ohhh, oh, yes Sir.' His first noise is a low whimper, the pain blossoming along nerve endings and flooding him with its typical odd sense of comfort.

Vincent: Vincent holds the short chain fastening your wrists behind your neck and starts raining blows down across your ass and the backs of your thighs. None are severe, but they're all strong enough to leave the most beautiful red welts across your creamy skin. The rhythm of his swings rises and falls, never quite falling into a pattern, never giving you any idea when or where the next will come.

Paul: Paul takes each blow beautifully, giving you every moan and mewl. The sounds never get panicky or shrill, they stay earthy, grounded, as though each thud sends him deeper to the earth.

Vincent: The last two blows are just a fraction lighter, letting you know without words he was stopping. "You are beautiful Paul, you please me greatly. Kneel down and rest a moment."

Vincent: He pads across the room, squatting down to look in the chest, then shifting back to his feet and going to the closet instead. Her peruses the collection of floggers, whips and cats, not quite finding what he wants, until he sees the quirt. "Ahhh, wonderful."

Paul: He slides down to his knees, shuddering. 'Thank you, Sir. May I suck your cock, Sir? Just for a little while?' He licks his lips, body undulating with its hunger.

Vincent: He laughs softly and walks back over. His cock is purpled, bouncing obscenely against his belly when he moves. "I think that would be lovely darling."

Paul: His lips nuzzle at the musky curls at the base of your prick before licking a hungry path up your shaft, then rubbing the slick head over his face. 'Oooh, thank you, Sir.'

Vincent: "Oooh you're welcome." He purrs forcing his eyes to stay open.

Paul: His mouth opens over the tip of your prick, and he swallows convulsively, working your erection down his throat.

Vincent: "Oui, Christ Paul!" He has to grab a fist full of hair to stop you otherwise he'll simply come now. "You're too fucking good at that, but then you always were." He holds your head in lace and fucks your sinful mouth at his own, much slower pace.

Paul: Paul just MELTS, absolutely loving being used like this. His moans vibrate straight into your aching prick as his throat opens up so you can fuck his mouth easily.

Vincent: "That's it..." He murmurs, forcing your head back, heavy, swollen balls slapping against your chin each time he bottoms out.

Paul: Your prick grows slick with saliva as he slurps at it, starving for it, his own cock throbbing in frustrated, painful sympathy.

Vincent: Vincent 'stops' suddenly, prick throbbing against your tongue. He pulls back so just the thick glans is in your mouth then leans down over your back. "Kneel up."

Paul: He struggles to kneel up and keep your cockhead in his mouth, but he manages, mostly because he's too greedy to let it go.

Vincent: The position is incredibly awkward and neither of you will be able to keep it for long but he's going to use it to his advantage while he can. The first lash with the quirt, cuts across your already sensitive ass, deep purple blood bruises blossoming across the skin.

Paul: The earthy cries go straight to your balls as it takes everything he has not to bite or suck too roughly.

Vincent: "Good boy." He murmurs and lays down a series of half a dozen lashes, making sure not to cross any of them.

Paul: The praise is as heady as the pain, and then he's figured out how to suckle you and filter out the blows - route them to a different mental channel, so to speak

Vincent: He can barely stand let alone concentrate so he regretfully has to step back, stretching out his legs. "Paul, I'm going to remove the bindings on your gorgeous prick, then I'm going to whip you until I tell you to come." He crouches down and carefully unbuckles the restraint, rubbing your belly when he takes it off.

Paul: His entire body is quivering as you free his prick, teeth clenched, breathing hard through his nose as he centres himself, controlling his orgasm by force of long training. 'Yes...yes, Sir.'

Vincent: He brushes the back of his hand against your cheek, then unfastens the chains between your wrists, rubbing your aching shoulders and helping you to stretch out. He takes a pillow from the bed and tosses it down on the floor. "Lay forward, keep your glorious ass in the air."

Paul: He's grateful to rest his feverish face against the cool pillow, and it's always so delicious to present yourself like this. So decadent, especially already nicely open and welted. Oooh, he hoped for a fucking, but the anticipation and longing to be filled just added another note to this symphony.

Vincent: Vincent can't help but trace his fingers over the heated, marred skin. "Christ..." He licks his lips and kneels beside you. "A dozen more I think, you may come after the last."

Paul: He nods, then forces himself to speak politely. 'Yes...Yes, Vincent, After twelve.'

Vincent: He just smiles at your continued composure. The first three lashes are hard and fast, each leaving a deep purple welt across your ass, the next three stripe the backs of your thighs just as hard.

Paul: That composure is a thing of the past. He cries out, loud and harsh, trying to count at first and then just stopping as it all just become too MUCH. Gloriously, perfectly overwhelming.

Vincent: He groans feeling his balls pull up and butterflies in his belly. He wasn't going to last much longer, but he'd be damned if he didn't get to come down that pretty little throat of yours. Three more lashes across your thighs then three single, hard strikes, one at a time, opening creamy white skin so it weeps crimson. "Oh fucking god, come Paul."

Paul: A strangled cry rips from his throat, hands fisting and clawing at the rug as he spurts in thick, heavy streams, spattering his belly and the floor below.

Vincent: He drops the quirt and presses his forehead against the back of your shoulder, biting back a groan of pure need. "Paul..."

Paul: 'Sir, please, may I make you come?' His voice is hoarse from use.

Vincent: "Sweet God, yes!" He curls his fingers in your hair and practically drags you over, pressing your face down against his cock.

Paul: This time, there's no subtlety, just a rough, ravenous hunger. His hands grip your hips as he takes you down his throat with a greedy, heedless swallow, setting up a blisteringly hot, fast rhythm.

Vincent: When he comes, it's primal and deep. A soul-wrenching cry escapes his lips and his fingers dig into the backs of your shoulders. He empties himself deep into your throat, spurt after spurt of hot, sticky seed.

Paul: Moaning in delight, Paul swallows every last drop, nuzzling at your prick even as it softens and slips from his mouth, waiting to see if you're done with the scene before saying anything more.

Vincent: He shudders, face pressed down against the back of your shoulder. "Christ Paul." Vincent wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. "Scene over darling... whenever you're ready."

Paul: He wraps long arms around you, tugging your mouth to his for a sweetly messy kiss, lingering in it as he surfaces from headspace.

Vincent: He lingers in the kiss, rubbing circles against your back, finally pressing his forehead against yours. "Ooh mon ami, you are exquisite. Thank you."

Paul: 'Mmm, thank you as well, beautiful. That was lovely.' He gets to his feet, wobbly. 'You haven't lost your touch, you great pervert, you.'

Vincent: He climbs to his feet, chuckling. "I am a great many things, pervert is only one of them." he slides an arm around your waist. "Come, I broke your beautiful skin, let me fix you up."

Paul: He laughs. 'Tonio will be a bit vexed at that. Ah damn, I may get punished.' He winks.

Vincent: Vincent laughs. "And you say I'm the pervert. Lie down." He motions to the bed and retrieves the first aid kit along with damp cloths. It only takes minutes to fix you up and then he slides next to you on the bed.

Paul: He purrs under your hands, taking the clean-up and tending well. As soon as you're done he turns to face you, sliding one long leg over your hip and nuzzling his nose up under your chin. 'Now that that's out of our systems maybe we can talk like reasonable people. Are you seeing anyone else regularly?'

Vincent: "None other than you dearling." He grins. "We haven't been in town that long. Between the move and taking care of my belle, things have been busy."

Paul: 'I would love for you to meet Antonio. Maybe I can throw a dinner party after the holidays are over? I've been so curious to meet Melanie - she makes the most delightful community posts. Does she really shake all her presents everyday?'

Vincent: "Dear God yes. Shakes, sniffs, tastes... She's a very curious little thing. Mischievous as a... a... well cat."

Paul: 'Even Stella's only shaken them once. And of course she must make fun of me because we have a small living tree instead of a big dead one. But really...why kill a tree to make a decoration?'

Vincent: "I am afraid our tree is eating the living room. You can barely walk in without getting tinsel or needles in your hair."

Paul: 'Sounds delightful.' He grins and stretches and wriggles. 'Speaking of cooking...I promised a fancy dinner for tonight - Stella doesn't believe you can do fancy without meat. I took that as a challenge.'

Chat Log, rpg_rufus and bettany

ailei@texas.net — Sat, 27 Dec 2003 06:43:10 GMT

[players, not pups. happened on 19 December.]

Rufus: *Rufus dives into your building out of the light drizzle. His hair is beaded with tiny droplets and he's carrying a huge bunch of flowers. The lift rattles slowly up to your floor and he knocks on the door and calls * 'Paul? Let me in. I'm perished.'

Paul: *he opens the door at speed, eyes lighting up when he sees you* 'Rufus! You poor thing - you look like a drowned poodle.'

Rufus: *Rolls eyes, he'd been expecting that* 'I feel like one. But I think it's mostly superficial' *Smiles affectionately* 'Here, love.' *And hands you the flowers*

Paul: 'Flowers?' *he bats his eyelashes extravagantly* 'And here I am empty-handed. However shall I repay you?' *he ushers you in and shuts the door, padding into the kitchen to sit them down before fetching you a towel*

Rufus: 'I got waylaid by that nice old lady with the stall on the corner.' *Rufus grins* 'Now she thinks I'm visiting my girlfriend' *Shrugs off his leather jacket and hands it to you as he takes the towel and vigorously rubs at his hair.* 'That's better.'

Paul: *hangs your jacket up on the coat rack and slides up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you close* 'The horror.'

Rufus: *Laughs and relaxes into your hug* 'Shocking isn't it. Ruin my reputation' *He turns in your embrace and hugs you back.* 'Missed you, Paul.'

Paul: 'And I you. I can't tell you how many times I thought 'oh! I have to tell Rufus this' *he chuckles and runs his thumbs up the planes of your cheeks, gently turning your face up for a proper hello kiss*

Rufus: *Sighs contentedly and kisses you slowly and thoroughly. Then looks at you and nods* 'That's exactly it. I considered taking notes.' *Mock serious.* 'At least you were all over the place. Couldn't turn on the TV or open a magazine without seeing you. I expected to hear that you'd exploded with the frustration.'

Paul: 'It was a very near thing. Fortunately, I had Antonio to break the tension.' *he's wearing sweatpants, a t shirt emblazoned with 'oeuf' and woolen socks against the slight chill in the floorboards* 'So you first.' *he pads to the kitchen and fetches the bottle of wine he'd opened for you earlier, and two glasses, and then goes to sit on the couch*

Rufus: *Takes a glass and leans against you.* 'Well, to start at the end, I think Heath has invited himself and his boyfriend over for Christmas. I replied by saying there was a lovely hotel nearby if they didn't fancy staying at the Est.' *He kicks off his boots and curls up. He's wearing a black Boy t shirt and a ratty old pair of jeans. 'Not sure I want them in the house for any length of time.'

Paul: 'Good God, no. Oh, by the way, you owe me something really nice. Like a blowjob.'

Rufus: 'I do?' *looks up at you amused* 'Why?'

Paul: 'I believe the phrase is 'taking one for the team'. I managed to see Heath and that Michael bloke.' *he strokes your hair with one hand, cradling his wine glass in the other*

Rufus: *Knowing how much you enjoy sex and how easy going you are about it, Rufus is curious. He shifts into your stroking hand.* 'Not good, I take it?'

Paul: 'No, it was fine. Just a bit...well. Perfunctory? Like they expected it, and knew I'd put out. Which of course I will, but...' *he seems at a loss for words to describe the experience* 'And then *Heath*, good Lord.'

Rufus: *Tries to read you face.* 'I know how unsettling 'perfunctory' sex can be.' *He says slowly thinking of some of his own recent experiences. He turns a bit more so that he's lying against your shoulder and can watch you.* 'Heath sounded all right on the answering machine. Rather ... bouncy I guess you could call it, but pretty much how I remember him. It's some of the journal entries that have surprised me, his and this Michael's.'

Paul: 'I have no problem with lifestyle submissives. I was one for a while. But Heath...going from no experience to full-on puppy role so fast has just...he's losing himself, Rufus, and it's quite terrifying. I suppose one could argue that he's really *finding* himself for the first time, but I just don't know.'

Rufus: 'God, Paul. If it worries you...' *Rufus frowns as he considers. He utterly trusts your instincts on this and he's still fairly unsure about where he is regarding the whole d/s thing. This is one of the issues that make him uneasy about the lifestyle.* 'It'll be interesting to see them.' *He says slowly.* 'I tend to assume adults know what they're doing, but Heath... he's pretty naive.'

Paul: 'It's like he's *becoming* the role - gah. It's hard to explain. I mean, when I was a slave, I *was* a slave. But the Est handlers were always really good about making sure we had down time - that we got up off our knees, shook it off and watched a film, or read a book or some such. I don't think Heath does those things unless Michael's doing them too.'

Rufus: 'I can't imagine being like that. But you know... that's what had me so confused about all this. Whether the idea, the ideal, was to 'be' the role or whether it was just play. I can see where someone with a different personality might get swept up by the romance of being everything that someone stronger seemed to want.' *Rufus sips the wine and adds slowly,* 'And then there's the issue of the other partner of course.'

Paul: 'Of course.' *he sighs elaborately and drains his wine* 'Shanks seems to really love him. I don't think he KNOWS him, mind, but he's swoony in love. I made sure to take him aside and mention how asinine it would be for Heath to come out, and that he should watch him carefully to make sure he doesn't get too pulled in by the scenario. Still, as odd as that was, it can't beat the bad scene the day before.'

Rufus: 'In the end it's Heath's choice I suppose. I agree that coming out would probably be career suicide but it's that old standard, 'the world well lost for love'. Perhaps it will be a good thing if they spend Christmas here, sounds as though they're pretty isolated.' *Rufus reaches up and strokes a finger over your brow.* 'Sounds like you've been through a rough patch, love.'

Paul: 'A little.' *Paul's never been one for whining except when it's play, so he just smiles and half-closes his eyes at your gentle touch* 'Sounds like *you* have been having a blast, though.'

Rufus: *He takes note of your change of topic and files it away to get back to later.* 'I can't complain. Stephen and I are quite absurdly besotted... well, 'in lust' at least... and we've been having a ball, really. I told you that I managed to tell him I was interested in being spanked.' *Rufus blushes faintly and takes refuge in his wine before saying.* 'It was amazing. I don't suppose I need to tell you that. The weird thing is how bashful it makes me feel... and how much I like that feeling.' *He admits ruefully*

Paul: 'That is an adorable kink.' *he slides his hand down your back to cup your arse and squeeze it lightly* 'Shyness looks very fetching on you. I might have to get a more *detailed* description later.'

Rufus: *He squirms a little at your touch.*'It's very strange. I'm not sure that isn't what I find so erotic... rather than the actual physical sensation.' *Rubs his cheek against your shoulder.* 'Not that I disliked the physical stuff, not at all.'

Paul: 'You just like a good mindfuck. I think you're more a submissive than you realise.' *he gets a wicked look in his eyes, then takes your wine glass away, sitting it on the table before pulling you into his lap* 'Tell me about it, Rufus. Tell me what Stephen did to you.' *his voice is low, mouth pressed to your ear*

Rufus: 'Possibly.' *Rufus concedes then looks wary as he sees your expression. He pouts as you take his glass.' *Hey! Some host you are.' *He shivers at the touch of your mouth, and moans softly.* 'Were would you like me to start? When I was thinking about it and he walked in on me? Or when he had me over his lap?' *Rufus is getting that shivery, 'want to curl up in his lap feeling' again.*

Paul: 'I want to see if you can muster an ounce of shame around ME. Start at the beginning: you were alone, thinking about him putting you over his knee?' *his hand is under your tshirt, just resting lightly in the center of your chest, splayed, his thumb and forefinger barely brushing your nipples*

Rufus: 'Shame! You... huh.'* Rufus snorts, but he's curious too.* 'In sense it started on my birthday. Stephen bought me a collection of things including some red fluffy handcuffs and a flogger made of rabbit fur. We only used the cuffs and since then the flogger has been popping into my mind at odd occasions. Why did you take my wine away?' *He complains and shifts under your hand.* 'And lately spanking has been joining the flogging as a ... daydream, I guess you could call it.'

Paul: 'Take it back, then - I just didn't want to spill it on you. A day dream? A fantasy, more like. And yet you never said anything to him?'

Rufus: *Shakes his head.* 'We don't exactly get to have deep conversations. We start them but then we get sidetracked. It's actually a bit of a problem.' *Rufus admits as he takes back his glass and drinks before handing it back.* 'Thanks, Paul. No, and anyway we weren't short of things to get up to. But it was taking over my waking thoughts I must admit and then last Tuesday, he'd gone out and I was trying to read. Ever tried to read PD James while your dreaming of your lover doing wicked things to you? It doesn't work.'

Paul: 'I try never to read PD James period. More a Sayers man, myself.' *he laughs* 'This isn't going to work, is it? Talking isn't the way to get you shy around me. We talk all the TIME.'

Rufus: *Laughs and nods* 'Let's see what happens if I stop hiding behind the explanation. Okay... so I've thrown the book aside and stomped off to make coffee, all the while thinking about, um...' *Shakes his head, his voice is getting a bit softer and huskier.* 'Stephen making me lie over his lap and then I hear him come into the room. And of course I blush and of course he wants to know what's going on.'

Paul: 'Of course. Probably wants to know what sort of porn you're reading.' *voice warm with amusement and a growing arousal*

Rufus: 'Oh god, Paul. You and Stephen were separated at birth, I swear it. Yeah, he asked if I was watching porn without him.' *Rufus runs his hand over your thigh.* 'And I couldn't tell him what I was thinking. It's daft. I can tell him I'm going to fuck him through the mattress but I can't tell him I've been getting all hot and shivery thinking about being naked over his lap.' *He takes a breath.* 'So, I make myself tell him. I have to not look at him to say it. I literally have to force the words out. I tell him I've been thinking about the flogger and about spanking and I just...' *smiles softly and hangs his head a little.* 'The feeling was amazing, even before he'd done more than stroke my face.'

Paul: 'And he appreciated your efforts and rewarded them well, didn't he?' *he slides his hand over and strokes his fingertips over your nipple, oh so lightly*

Rufus: 'Yeah.' *He makes a small pleased noise.* 'He was teasing me a bit then he asked whether I'd been a naughty enough boy to be put over his lap,' *Rufus blushes and falters a bit at that. * 'Or whether it was a belated birthday spanking. And did I want to be cuffed... and I couldn't decide.' *Rubs against your arm and lets out a shuddering sigh.* 'I just wanted him to tell me what to do. No.' *Rufus looks up at you.* 'That's not it. I wanted him to take care of it for me.' *He's looking rather surprised and a bit embarrassed.*

Paul: 'Mm. You wanted a bit of Mastery.' *his voice is rough as he reacts to your reactions. he nuzzles the side of your reddening cheek*

Rufus: 'Whatever it was, I got it. He was telling me what he was going to do. God, he's got an amazing voice sometimes.' *Rufus presses closer and makes a soft needy sound.* 'We just talked to each other, it seemed like for ages. Then he sat up and I... um...' *Another shuddery breath* 'Then he... Paul, I can't...'

Paul: 'You can. You can tell me anything, love.' *his other hand slides between your legs, up your inner thigh, stopping just short of your balls and stroking maddeningly*

Rufus: *He shakes his head but starts to speak again, soft and shaky as he squirms at your touch.* 'He was stroking my back. He, um... slid his fingers inside me.' *Rufus voice is almost inaudible, he is snuggling against you.* 'Then he...' *his voice fades and he hides his face against you, flushed but smiling faintly.*

Paul: 'Did he now? Were they slick and clever, filling you and thrusting in, and out, and in?' *he closes his teeth around your earlobe and tugs, then continues* 'Rufus, I want you to unzip your trousers and pull out your prick. If you're going to tell me this story, I think you should illustrate for me how it made you feel.'

Rufus: 'Mm hmm.' *He nods. Shudders as your teeth close on his earlobe.* 'So exposed. Felt so good.' *His voice is husky and low. Rufus' hands go to his waist and he unzips his jeans, sighing as he takes his cock in his hand.*

Paul: 'Mmmm, fuck you look delicious like that, Rufus. Now stroke slowly, base to tip, and tell me more. Did he alternate spanking with fingering? Did he find your little sweet spot and rub it?' *Paul's voice is low, seductive, his long, cool fingers reaching inside and cupping your balls*

Rufus: *He leans back and starts to lazily stroke his cock. Flashing a shy smile up at you he continues,* 'Yeah, he was stroking me... inside and spanking me... then petting.' *His voice hitches a bit as he speaks and the blush is still very much in evidence and he presses against you*

Paul: *Paul bites an easy, slow path up the side of your neck, making approving little noises as you talk. His fingers move from the centre of your chest to stroke your nipple, rubbing the little nub then pinching* 'And all that stimulation had you desperate to be fucked, didn't it, Rufus?'

Rufus: *Stretches his neck to give you more access.* 'Well... ummm...' *Laughs softly and rubs his cheek against you, mumbling.* 'Made me come.' *He's blushing more, feeling shy and a bit silly and liking it.*

Paul: 'You came from being spanked and fingered? Mmm...then you were either a VERY good boy, or a VERY bad boy.' *he slides his hand down your belly to clasp just above yours on your prick, squeezing tightly and halting your progress* 'Time for bed, wouldn't you say, pretty?'

Rufus: *Wrinkles his nose at the observation.* 'Wasn't like that.' *Rufus makes a low huffing noise as you clasp his cock, leaning into your body. He nods.* 'Yes, please.'

Paul: *he slides his hand up your prick and swipes the thumb over the head before releasing you* 'Then you're going to be telling me exactly how it is after I have you properly naked.' *he pushes you gently off his lap*

Rufus: *Shivers at the touch of your thumb then slides off your lap and looks at you, head tilted to one side, a sweet smile curling his mouth.* 'When did you get so nosey?' *He strokes his fingers down the side of your face.* 'And so ... forceful? I like it.'

Paul: *he arches into your smile and then stands, swaying into you and kissing that smile gently* 'I'm nosey because watching you blush and stammer is ridiculously hot. Don't you remember the night I tied you up? You seem to bring out the top in me.'

Rufus: *That makes him blush a little more as he accepts your kiss.* 'Hmm, that's good ...I think.' *He ambles towards the bedroom with you.* 'Odd isn't it? I thought you were a dyed-in-the-wool sub... but then I thought I was pretty much totally toppy.' *He pauses and looks at you seriously with those wide eyes.* 'I mostly am you know... takes a special person to let me really...'

Paul: *he smiles that curling little smile of his, then cups the side of your face, thumb pressing gently over your lips and caressing them* 'I know, love. I know. It must take someone terribly special to bring out this side of me, too.'

Rufus: *Nips at your thumb and nods.* 'Aww, thank you, love.'

Paul: *he sighs elaborately* 'Damn you...you're threatening to rob me of my grr-ness with all this sweetness. Get into the bedroom and take your clothes off, bitch.' *he winks and pinches your bottom lip lightly, then sends you back on your way down the hall with a nice swat to your arse*

Rufus: 'Can't have that.' *Rufus smirks then mutters at the pinch. He sashays ahead of you, rolling his eyes at the 'bitch', and putting an extra wiggle into his steps when you slap him.*

Paul: *he follows you into the bedroom and shuts the door, leaning against it and stroking his hard cock through the fabric* 'Strip for me. You don't need to make it a show, but I don't want it rushed, either.'

Rufus: *Stands near the bed and faces you. Runs his hands under his t-shirt, caressing before he takes hold of the hem and lifts it slowly over his head. He stretches as he pulls the shirt off, arching slightly and throws it onto a chair. Sits to get rid of shoes and socks then stands again and eases the jeans down his hips.*

Paul: 'VERY good, pretty. Is your safeword the same?' *the question is murmured, but pitched so that you can hear it perfectly, a caress against your ear*

Rufus: *Stands easily naked before you and nods* 'Yes. Still fox.'

Paul: 'On the bed, on your hands and knees, facing the headboard.' *his voice is warm, but laced with quiet authority. he turns away from you, quite sure you will comply, and begins to gather things from his chest*

Rufus: *He watches for a moment as you turn away with perfect confidence in his compliance. With a pleasant shiver and an inward smile, Rufus climbs onto the bed and gets into the required position. He casts a quick glance at you then breathes deeply and relaxes as much as he can given the lust that's shivering through him.*

Paul: *Paul is hiding a rather doting smile as he gathers a few objects and arranges them on the bed next to you. He picks up the first, a cock-and- balls strap, and trails it up your spine lightly* 'Remember this from before, lovely? Kneel straight up for me.'

Rufus: *He arches as the strap tickles his back and pushes himself up, catching his balance as the bed shifts under him. Rufus looks at you and nods, his eyes warm and trusting.

Paul: 'Again, very good.' *He kneels opposite you, gripping your shaft and stroking firmly, thumb rubbing over the ripe tip as he drives your arousal higher with a deft touch. When your cock is purpled, hungry, he wraps the unforgiving vinyl around the base and between and around both testicles and buckles it tight. When he's finished, he sits back and smiles in approval.* 'Aboslutely perfect.' *He moves away and pushes lightly on your upper back.* 'Resume your position.'

Rufus: 'Oh, god.' *He sways into you touch, making a soft noise in his throat as the vinyl tightens around his genitals. His instinct is to reach for you but your hand gently urges him forward and he obeys,* 'Yes, Paul.'

Paul: 'Ohh, so very good.' *His voice is a well-trained caress, shivering along your spine as he licks a path between your shoulderblades and down, down to the dip of your spine. He bites the tender flesh as soft hands stroke your inner thighs, then urge them wide apart.* 'Do you know what I'm going to do now, pretty?'

Rufus: *He hums happily at your tone, quivering as he exposes himself for you. He shakes his head,* 'No. Tell me. Please...'

Paul: 'I am going to spread your arse open...' *he does so, fingers digging deep into the soft-muscled flesh* 'And then I am going to lave my tongue over this luscious little pucker.' *his actions mimic his words, tongue soft and slick and hot over the tightly furled muscles*

Rufus: 'Yes...' *he moans and shifts his hips a little* 'Paul...' The words send hot shivers through him, flushing his skin.* 'Feels... hmmmm.'

Paul: 'Feels...' *Paul's tongue presses harder, wriggling against the wrinkled rim, urging it to open* 'Absolutely...' *he uses his thumbs to wrench open the little hole* 'Delicious.' *that slick tongue, clever tongue, pushes inside you*

Rufus: "Mmm, yes... delicious.' *Rufus agrees and pushes back into the sensations you are causing.* 'So fucking good.' *He's awash with lust and affection, teetering at the edge of that other place, the place where he wants to just hand himself over to his partner and let them order his pleasure.

Paul: *He sucks and bites and tongue-fucks until you're blooming, slick and open enough for two cool, lubed fingers to push past the whorls of muscle easily. They move in with the sweetest ease, and rub in tender, opening circles* 'Is it, pretty? Is it so good?' *It's almost like he's soothing a child, his other hand caressing your back, his voice low and almost hypnotic*

Rufus: *He's moaning and shifting slightly, his head drooping forward, nodding, "Yes, love, oh yes.' *Rufus lets your voice carry him.* 'More, please.' *And arches languidly.*

Paul: 'Oh, there is SO much more.' *Paul pulls his fingers from the tight haven of your body, but not before rubbing your prostate, deep and hard.* 'You're going to wear a plug for me, beautiful. As I work on you, I want you to focus on the hard, unyielding mass within you, filling you. I want you to feel the rhythm of my strikes fucking it into you.' *A slick, rounded head nudges your well-prepared pucker, then a realistically shaped plug, mid- length and fairly fat, pushes inside. He works it within you with a sure touch, knowing just what he needs to do to rub it against your sweet spot*

Rufus: Rufus groans as you stroke his prostate. Your words make him sigh and stretch as delicious sparks shoot through him. He wants to watch you, touch you, but his position makes that impossible, he murmurs and rubs his cheek against his own shoulder. The plug feels odd, alien and hard but unbelievably erotic, combined as it is with the knowledge that you're doing this to him, and watching so very closely. He feels shy and needy. He likes it and wants what you're going to give him.

Paul: 'Oh, you are so sweet, love.' *he seats the plug firmly within you, moaning as your muscles clench around it. crawling around to face you, he lifts up your chin and leans in for a slow, tender, deep kiss*

Rufus: *Somehow this feels right though it's so unlike anything he's experienced with you before. Your groan makes him smile, pleased. And when you move before him he raises his face, eagerly accepting and returning your kiss.* 'Thank you.' *He whispers.*

Paul: *His mouth curves, and his eyes glint wickedly* 'Don't thank me yet, pretty. You have a choice to make. I am going to put you over my knee, but what I do with you once you're there I will allow you to decide. Your choices are this lovely flogger.' *he presents you with a vinyl flogger, the tails about 6 inches long. they are fairly heavy, and will probably pack a good wallop* 'Or this paddle.' *the paddle looks wicked - it's wood covered in more of the black, shiny vinyl Paul seems to favour. it's about 9 inches long, and rather whippy*

Rufus: 'Oh.' He looks from one device to the other, his breath hitching and his face heating as he considers.* 'Um...' *He makes what seems to him to be the safer choice.* 'The flogger please.' *His voice is still soft and he's looking up at you with a mixture of amusement, lust and embarassment.*

Paul: *Paul strokes your cheeks fondly, then discards the paddle.* 'Do you know why I like the flogger?' *his tone is purely rhetorical as he holds the instrument lightly by the handle and trails the very tips of the tails down your back, shivering over your stretched hole* 'I like it because it can torment on so VERY many different levels.' *he teases over your inner thighs, then grips your hair and pulls you up onto your knees to dangle the ends over your swollen prick*

Rufus: *He squirms happily as the tails run over his back. When you grab his hair Rufus shudders and whispers* 'Paul' *He draws a long, shaky breath. His eyes are on yours, full of lust and affection. There is still a trace of amusement but it turns almost shy, and definitely yielding, as the tails tease his erection.*

Paul: *Paul's blue eyes are warm, open, and yes, loving.* 'My good, beautiful boy. Give it up so sweetly for me.' *he knows he's treading dangerous ground, but it feels right, the words flow out like honey, golden and sweet. he sits, back the headboard, and pulls you over his lap. from this angle, there's no way he can hit you *really* hard, and to begin with, he just trails the tails over your arse*

Rufus: *He hitches his shoulder at your words, and smiles shyly. Somewhere deep inside he's boggling at his reaction but he feels so good. The words make him feel pleased and happy.* 'Thank you...' *There's a pause.* '...Paul' *He moves to lie where you put him and hums happily at the tickle of the flogger's tails.*

Paul: *the first strike is light, but definite - a subtle, many-layered stinging laid right across the plug. you can feel his cock, hard against your hip. the second is slightly stronger, in the exact same place*

Rufus: *The first strike is a sensual caress that packs a mild sting and Rufus wriggles, getting comfortable and teasing your cock. The second makes him draw in his breath a little as the plug shifts a thought deeper.* 'Ahh... yes...'

Paul: 'Yesss...' *The blows are slow, paced like breathing: in, out, one then the next, but each grows in strength.* 'Tell me how it feels. The plug filling you, moving with each shift of your muscles. The flogger biting into your lovely skin...give me your words.'

Rufus: *Tell me... As the words register, Rufus drops his head to the covers. He's not sure if he can, not very effectively anyway and it takes him from the sensation until the next blow lands. He turns his face away from you and begins to speak haltingly.* 'The plug... it... I feel... full. Feels good when it moves.' *He's blushing even as he squirms against you.* 'I like... mmmm... It stings a bit. Feels good... hot... and...' *He lets the next strike fall and his voice falls softer still.* 'For you... like to know you're watching me.'

Paul: 'Good. So very good. I like watching you, Rufus. I like bringing you pleasure.' *his voice drops even lower* 'I like challenging you.' *the blows still fall, but they do so silently save for small noises of encouragement and appreciation. he wants you to relax, feel and enjoy*

Rufus: *The fall of the flogger, the position he's in, your words, they are all merging for Rufus. He closes his eyes and shifts under the blows, rolling his hips a fraction then pressing down on you as he enjoys the sensations. He's giving little murmurs of pleasure and an occasional gasping sigh as the sting slowly increases from sensation towards pain. And yet it doesn't register as pain, he feels intense erotic stimulation, he feels heat in the flogged skin, he feels the urge to curl around you.

Paul: *wordlessly, he urges you to do just that. he knows he's given you more strikes than he planned, but you're taking them so beautifully he doesn't want to stop. finally, as your skin blossoms from red to white, he lays the flogger aside, gathering you up into his arms and sitting you astride his lap* 'Ohh, so good. Such a sweet boy.' *he pets your hair and back, then curls his fingers around your cock and strokes softly, watching your face*

Rufus: 'Hmmm, Yes.' *He moves eagerly into your arms, wiggling slightly to savour the new feeling. His eyes drop at your words, then fly back to yours as you take his cock in your hand.* 'God... Paul.' A deep tremor runs through him and he rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your neck.* 'So good, love.'

Paul: *he reaches out to the beside table and picks up a condom and opens it with his teeth* 'Now, I think you need something real and warm and human inside you, beautiful.' *he pushes down his pants and slides on the condom, bitterly regretting not having taken the time to get fully undressed beforehand. A gentle hand removes the plug, working it out of you slowly, his own prick taking its place in a smooth, seamless, natural motion*

Rufus: *He murmurs and moves with you as you make the switch. The fold of cloth adds more sensation. Rufus sinks down on you easily, his hands running over your shoulders and up into your hair. 'Mmm, nice.' His smile is a bit hazy as he floats blissfully. Diffidently, he leans in to offer you his mouth. He's not at all aware that he's behaving quite differently to his usual self, it feels perfectly natural and so good.

Paul: *one clever hand undoes the bindings around your cock, then he's taking your mouth, commanding and yet gentle, hips moving slowly as he flexes up into you, then down, hands resting on your hips as he angles you so that his prick rubs your prostate*

Rufus: *The rush of blood to his cock makes him arch against you and moan. He opens to your kiss, letting you gently ravish his mouth. The stimulation of your cock is delicious, maddening. He moans again,* 'Please... please, Paul.'

Paul: 'Come when you wish, beautiful.' *he pulls you close, arms lying along your spine, long fingers curling over your shoulders. his hips work as he fucks up into your tight heat, pace increasing until he's shivering on the brink of orgasm as well*

Rufus: 'Yes. Thank you' *He clenches tight around your cock as he sobs and comes in warm, creamy spurts on your chest. His head drops forward to rest on you and he makes a low crooning sound and wraps his arms around you.

Paul: *Paul watches your climax, eyes wide and darkened blue, and then clutches you tightly to him as he follows, shuddering and moaning your name as he pulses and spends himself inside you*

Rufus: *Deeply satisfied and pleased by your pleasure, Rufus hugs you tight and kisses your jaw. He snuggles closer.* 'Hmmm. Feels good, love. So good.' *He smiles and rubs his hands in erratic circles over your back.*

Paul: 'You were absolutely perfect, sweetheart.' *He fits your curly head under his chin and strokes your sweaty back, knowing he should move but loving you just where you are.*

Rufus: *Rufus gives a slightly embarrassed chuckle at that even as he rubs his cheek against you, pleased as well.* 'So were you.' * He likes still feeling you inside him.* 'Could stay like this for hours.'* He says with a contented sigh.

Paul: 'Ohhh, I wish we could. S'not terribly safe for you, though.' *he licks and bites gently at your neck as he lifts your hips up and glides out, getting rid of the condom as unobtrusively as possible before cuddling you back up again* 'Thank you for what you just gave me.' *softly*

Rufus: 'Thank you, love.' *He settles against you again.* 'It was wonderful, Paul.' *He pulls back to look at you seriously,* 'I can't believe I've discovered a whole fantastic new aspect of sex... at my age.' *He shakes his head and leans back on your shoulder.*

Paul: 'Yes, you and Tonio - positively ancient. Mmm, can you stay?' *he tries not to sound hopeful, and mostly succeeds*

Rufus: 'For a while, yeah.' *He'd love to stay the night but it doesn't seem right with Stephen at home waiting for him. This is a new dilemma for him and he's at a bit of a loss.*

Paul: 'It's all right, love. A while is just fine.' *he scoots you off long enough to undress, then pulls you under the covers with him* 'Did I tell you that we're getting Tonio's daughter for the holidays?'

Rufus: 'No. That should be fun. How old is she?' *He smiles at your enthusiasm.*

Paul: ''Stella is eight. I'm incredibly nervous.' *he laughs* 'Before you go, I have to show you her bedroom.'

Rufus: 'She'll love you.' *Rufus assures you, knowing how much you love children and how good you are with them.* Assuming... how does her mother feel about the situation?' *Grins at you,* 'Bedroom? Don't tell me. You've redecorated the study.'

Paul: 'Well, I could only reduce the books by so much, so about half of it.' *he grins* 'There will need to be major remodeling, obviously, and Tonio is trying to buy the floor above.' *the grin fades* 'Her mother is...well. Bitch wouldn't be too strong a word. But he has her dead to rights, and after the divorce is final, we should have full joint custody.'

Rufus: 'I hope she hasn't poisoned Stella's mind against you. But I'm sure it'll work out if Antonio has the legal stuff worked out.' *Rufus strokes your cheek,* 'It'll be lovely for you, having her here. I can just imagine you showing her all the sights. When do they arrive?'

Paul: 'I've talked to her a couple of times on the phone, and she seems fine - as fine as she can be with her daddy's new mate. It'll take time, but I'm willing to put in that time. Actually we go pick her up in New York soon - Sunday. Just a flight over, a night in New York, and then back Monday morning with Stella.' *he bends into your touch*

Rufus: 'That's good. God, Paul. First his mother, now his wife.* He smiles.* 'I was hoping you would get to meet Stephen before Christmas. I'm starting to feel as though I'm subconsciously keeping you two apart. I'd rather like you to meet him when there's just the three of us, the first time. And I think I'd like to meet Antonio that way too, before we all get together. Limit the variables.'

Paul: 'That sounds ever so wise, my love. Stephen and I got on well on the phone. I assume he told you I called?'

Rufus: *nods* 'I was pretty sure you would get on. In fact, if anything, I'm worried that you'll gang up on me. In some ways you are far too alike.' *Casts you a dark look then smiles cheekily.* "The pearls were fun but I have no wish to explore the high heels.'

Paul: 'I think you're safe - consensus has it that you would look atrocious in them.' *strokes the hair at your temples, petting it back behind your ears* 'And Tonio would kill me if I were suddenly even taller than he is.'

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