I'm not ginger

Paul gives Ian a call

emachi@gmail.com — Tue, 26 May 2009 19:11:47 GMT

[Takes place early afternoon on Ian's birthday]

It's still early on the West Coast when Paul yawns and stretches awake. Normally he would order room service and get some breakfast, but today is a special day and there's something he must do before anything else. Reaching across to the bedside table of his hotel room, he grabs his mobile and flicks through the phonebook to a very familiar number. It's just a damned shame he can't be there in person to do it properly.

Wriggling more comfortably, Ian reaches for his mobile.

"Hello, Ian speaking, your birthday boy, how may I help?"

Paul smiles at the cheerful voice and tucks the duvet up further around himself. "Well now, if I were there I'd say you could get naked and get over my knee."

"Paul," Ian's own face breaks into a smile. "You know how to get to a man, next time we meet I will hold you to that."

"Good, I'll put it on my calendar. I do hope you're getting a birthday spanking today, would hate for you to miss out."

"Rest assured," Ian shifts slightly. "I will be getting all my rightful dues, lunch out, an early evening soiree then Patrick has booked a room at the Establishment and I think tomorrow, I will find sitting down ... quite difficult."

"Ah Patrick," Paul nods, grinning knowingly. He should give Ian a very good time indeed. "Nothing planned for tomorrow then? Or will you be giving your sexy arse a rest?"

"We have a show tomorrow, but I'll probably rest this sexy but older arse and enjoy remembering each and every spank," he sighs. "You know, I'd rather give up alcohol than spanking."

Paul chuckles, not in the least bit surprised. "You wouldn't give up anything like that. It's refreshing to see that someone your age has no desire to give up living. Besides, it would be such a waste of a huge cock," he adds with a smirk.

"I am going to let you into a secret, darling," Ian's smile is smug. "I do have a big cock, and it is my proud boast that I have never wasted it, I have enjoyed every minute of it."

The grin is catching and Paul finds his jaw beginning to hurt from grinning too much. "You've only wasted it in me, and I have to say, I've enjoyed every minute of it as well. And I'm sure everyone else has. You're getting better, Ian, only getting better."

"Age has not withered, nor custom staled my infinite variety," Ian misquotes. "And how are you darling, how's tricks, actually where are you?"

"In LA, but wishing I was there to celebrate with you with a proper cup of Earl Grey." Paul glances across at the clock and yawns again when he sees the time. "I've just been doing a couple of interviews over here and catching up with a few friends."

"Ring me when you get home yes? We must get together, drink tea before you spank my aged backside..."

"Oh certainly, though I'm not quite sure what order I'd put those two in. It's awfully hard to choose which one I'd rather do first." Paul wonders if he'd be able to spank with one hand and hold a cup in the other. Hard, but not impossible, and then he wouldn't need anything else.

"You don't have to take everything I say so literally, young man," Ian is smiling though. He enjoys Paul's humour.

That feeling is mutual and Paul laughs. "I miss having someone who shares the same priorities in life. Though luckily my friends here put up with my 'odd' habits."

"When you're back on terra firma, we will get together, darling. It's been far too long," Ian knows he's been neglecting his friends for work and other matters. It's not something he's happy about.

"As soon as I'm on home turf," Paul promises, as eager to meet up with him again as Ian is. "I'll let you go now to enjoy the rest of your day. Have a very happy birthday, Ian."

"Thank you darling, and see you soon," Ian is smiling as he ends the call. He is, he reflects. lucky to have such good friends.

Henry and Paul in London. It's all in the nipples.

emachi@gmail.com — Fri, 08 May 2009 00:01:01 GMT

[Takes place end of March]

It's early morning, that time of the day when the suns rays are creeping through the slits in the curtain and warming the room to that certain temperature that is just perfect to be waking up to. Paul stretches like a large cat, hearing his neck pop and rolls over, almost onto Henry. The man doesn't stir, his chest rising and falling rhythmically still in sleep.

Normally Paul would rise early and make breakfast, but today some other things have caught his attention. Why he didn't notice them before is beyond him. A glance up at Henry and a glance down at his chest reveals a smile on Paul's face. Not wicked, but wonderfully indulgent. Gently resting half over him, Paul lowers his mouth to one pink nipple, swirls his tongue around it once, twice. They're one of his weaknesses, nipples. They're small and fascinating and absolutely delightful to play with. He swirls his tongue around for a third time before gently enveloping it, teasing the soft bud erect with velvet heat.

Henry hasn't been sleeping well. No more than a couple of hours at a stretch, too jazzed about the new radio show and the upcoming book release and preparing material for the new show... at least that's what he's been telling himself. Truth is, it's hard to sleep without Elias in his bed.

He's run himself nearly into exhaustion and what he didn't do on his own, Paul finished last night. So that combined with the welcome heat of the body next to him has amounted to a healthy night's sleep for the first time in weeks. If you call sleeping like the dead healthy.

Waking to Paul licking his nipple, Henry exhales. He's fully awake almost immediately, threading his fingers through Paul's hair and petting. "Morning."

Blue eyes gaze up at him with a bright smile. "Morning." Paul isn't distracted from his teasing, enjoying the softness and slightly wrinkled texture against his tongue.

"Mmmmm." Henry purrs, dragging an extra pillow up to prop his head. If Paul's going to entertain him, he wants to watch.

To be honest, Paul never intended to entertain. It's purely for selfish reasons, namely enjoying Henry's nipples, but if Henry is entertained by it then good for him. A slow drag pulls the nipple into Paul's mouth like a vacuum and he sucks on it, bringing the blood to the surface.

Damn. Henry groans, fingers kneading at the back of Paul's scalp. "That's... suh..." Henry exhales on a shiver.

"Mm," Paul agrees succinctly, because it is 'suh' by Henry's definition of the word. It's equally as nice now that he's awake as those fingers feel wonderful and Paul can't help but purr.

Henry laughs. "Great vocabulary, hmmm?" He teases. Fuck but it feels good to wake up to such a sweet mouth. Scritching at Paul's hair, Henry watches the man suckle. There's no rush in the action, no hint that Paul is warming up to move on and Henry makes a note of the kink.

Paul does eventually move, but it's only over to the other nipple with a kiss to Henry in-between and a whispered "your nipples are gorgeous." Because other nipples need love too. The flat pebbly bud slowly reacts to his tongue as he teases it out and welcomes it into the warmth of his mouth.

Oh. Fuck. Henry's eyes slip closed. There's a hint of a squirm in the flutter of muscle but he stays still. Lets Paul take and enjoy.

Which Paul does happily, lavishing attention on Henry's chest, but taking his sweet time in doing so. Both nipples soon stand out distinctly, a rosy pink and hard. Paul relaxes his suckling in favour of lazy swirls of his tongue and light grabs with lips.

Henry lets out a lazy purr. "Feels fucking good..."

"Mm?" Paul pauses, lets his mouth have a short rest. Cheek resting on Henry's chest, right by his nipple, Paul watches him, expression completely neutral save for a morning-warm smile.

Dark eyes blink open slowly. Henry gives him a slow smile back, content in a way he's not been in months. It occurs to him that maybe Elias was right and this is what they needed. A little space to figure themselves out, recharge so they weren't always draining each other. "Comfortable?" Henry asks, fingers wriggling through the fine hair at Paul's nape.

Paul nods, smile widening. Always happy to see his friend, Paul hadn't hesitated when Henry had called from the airport asking if he'd mind some impromptu company. He isn't busy right now having just finished filming Creation, making the timing of Henry's visit perfect. It gives them a couple of days to relax, go out for dinner and just enjoy the company.

"Keep looking at me like that and you'll get yourself fucked," Henry teases, the arch of his foot rubbing against Paul's calf. They'd shared hand jobs the night before, curled around each other in the warmth of the Paul's bed. It had been nice, but it's left Henry hungry for something more.

Perfectly content and more relaxed than he's been in quite a while, Paul isn't entirely opposed to the idea. So he carries on looking at Henry just like that. " 'M all yours," he says, and if to add incentive, gives a slow, precise tongue swipe over Henry's nipple.

It's a hell of an offer. Henry stretches, arches against the press of the sleep warm body against his. And yawns hugely. Jet lag is still chasing his ass. "Sorry, man."

Paul chuckles and slowly slides off him. "I'll go make us breakfast. Anything you particularly fancy?"

"Get your ass back here," Henry growls, sitting up and grabbing Paul's shoulder. "You can cook for me after."

"Thought you were knackered?" Paul asks, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"One yawn does not mean I'm...knackered." Henry rolls his eyes. Pulls Paul into a kiss. The man's bristle buzzes against his cheek as he nuzzles into the kiss, tongue flicking over the seam of Paul's lips.

They open up, inviting Henry's tongue in. It's joined by Paul's and he deepens the kiss as one hand drifts over to rest on Henry's thigh where the blanket has fallen from it.

Henry moans. Touching is good. Skin on skin is better. Still kissing Paul, he rolls them, kicking the blankets out of the way to stretch out over the other man.

Paul shifts to get comfy, legs sliding outwards so Henry's can go between them while never breaking the kiss. The pillow is still warm from Henry's head and Paul can smell the man around him, a welcome scent to the room.

Paul feels great under him, legs around him. Henry's cock bumps against Paul's, already half hard. He moans into the kiss, lips and tongue dancing against Paul's.

Well something sure isn't tired. As the kiss turns into a wet chase of nips and licks, Paul pushes a hand between their thighs and cups Henry's cock, giving him a wickedly slow stroke.

Fuck. Henry grunts, hips hitching. "Mmmm damn." Henry returns the favor, hand finding Paul's cock, fingers teasing the foreskin.

It creates a similar reaction in Paul with extra purr, but before Henry can tease that far, he finds Paul's whispery voice in his ear. "Let's not turn it into another mutual hand job."

"Impatient bastard." Henry grips Paul's cock, stroking him firmly.

Paul sucks in a sudden breath and releases it in a shuddery sigh. He's not impatient, just prompting helpfully in case Henry gets too carried away. That and he rather enjoys riling Henry up.

The feeling is mutual. "Don't tell me that's all it takes to subdue your ass..."

The chuckle tells him no. As does the rake of nails down Henry's own ass. "Don't mistake being subdued with evil plotting," Paul says sagely.

That's more like it. Henry slides back, snagging Paul's wrists and wrestling them to the mattress. Paul's bigger, but lean where Henry works out to maintain his bulk. It makes for an even match.

Paul doesn't put up that much of a fight. A moment of firm resistance and a cheeky grin then he lets Henry force his wrists to the bed. At the same time Paul grinds his hips upward hard, bringing an electric contact of cock against cock. "Boo."

"Fuck," Henry sighs in appreciation, grinding back. "I have to wonder something Paul..."

"Oh yes? Wonder away." Paul finds another opening as Henry dips his head just slightly. It falls within Paul's reach and he lifts his head and nips at Henry's lips.

Henry allows the nip, biting back and snagging Paul's lower lip, tugging lightly. He lets go, grinning down at the man before bending his head. "If your tit fixation includes having your own sucked?" Warm lips wrap around Paul's nipple, tongue flicking over the bud as it hardens.

Paul wrinkles his nose and tries to keep his voice steady. "No, because 'tit' is such a coarse word... you make it sound like we're in bad gay porn."

There's a surly comeback to that. Henry opens his mouth, releasing said tit with a smack. And all he can do is laugh.

"My nipples, on the other hand," Paul says with a wide grin, sharing Henry's amusement, "would love to be sucked."

Henry is still chuckling. "Give me a sec, here, man," he snickers. "Don't want to bite your NIPPLE."

"Oh, so now you're only interested in me if I wearing a harness and a beard and have my mancunt up in the air?" It's very very hard to say those words with a straight face, but Paul manages. Just.

"Boy pussy," Henry corrects with a huge grin. He bends down and flicks his tongue over the hard pebble of Paul's nip. "Don't be so prissy."

Paul arches against him with a soft moan, but his face isn't entirely wiped of the matching grin. "Remind me never to watch porn with you."

"Don't watch porn with me," Henry quips, biting down lightly to trap the bud between his teeth before flicking his tongue over it.

Well, he can't exactly argue with that. Not from the logic of Henry's words, however, but from that wicked mouth. "Oh fuck it," Paul gasps, and one hand goes to Henry's head, to push him off or hold him in place it's hard to tell.

Henry sucks harder in response, drawing the tender skin up and flattening his tongue against it. Paul's hand tightens on the back of Henry's skull. Henry growls, a throaty sound of arousal. He shifts, pushing Paul's legs apart.

"Mm..." They open easily as Paul lets Henry settle between them, but he keeps his hand firmly on the back of Henry's head, not wanting him to stop. "Wanna smother you with my tits."

A wet snort buzzes over Paul's chest, but Henry takes the direction willingly enough. Despite the mockery of Paul's words, it's obvious the man is getting off on this from the tension shivering through him. Suckling harder, Henry reaches between them, hand wrapping around Paul's cock and stroking smoothly.

Paul's hips push off the bed, hot into Henry's palm. He lets go of his head in favour of the pillow under his head, giving some control back to Henry. It would be sad not to let Henry do what he does best. Fuck his cock, Paul's nipple feels hard enough to cut glass.

Henry likes foreplay, likes it very much, thank you. Foreplay and teasing with a partner this responsive is amazing. He settles in, jerking Paul off slowly, switching his attention between Paul's nips and thoroughly enjoying the man's responses.

Eyes closed, lashes fanned out over his cheeks, Paul is completely relaxed. Only Henry can get him like this, so utterly comfortable in his own skin and just being able to enjoy the sensations from the bottom. A slick drop of precome wets Henry's hand and Paul grunts a query. "Kiss."

One last lap at the pert nipple, and Henry lifts his head. Mouth finding Paul's, he shifts, bumping their cocks together before closing his fist around both shafts, stroking them together.

Oh that's... Paul's mind helpfully supplies a variety of suitable words; hot, delicious, Henry, wicked, words that he would say if his mouth wasn't otherwise engaged. His tongue is busy, slick and subtle in Henry's mouth as he strokes his own, coaxing the moans from the larger man.

Oh for more hands. Rocking to the side, Henry balances on his shoulder. Paul's mouth follows and Henry sighs. He can still kiss him this way. Still jack him off. And now... Henry's free hand tweaks a nipple.

"Aah..." Paul's back arches, tongue stalling in Henry's mouth. Henry is a master at multitasking. Paul is not. But that's fine because he only needs to concentrate on the enormous amount of pleasure he'd receiving. Easy to say. Except not, because Henry's tongue is invading his mouth.

A dirty chuckle bubbles into Paul's mouth. Henry is most definitely enjoying himself. Catching the nipple between blunt nails, he squeezes until Paul is squirming.

Squirming and gasping like a trapped animal Paul goes to push Henry away, hands on shoulders until he gets the hint. "Enough."

Henry lets up immediately, but doesn't pull away. Nuzzling Paul's jaw, he asks, "Too much?"

It's a moment before Paul answers, cheeks pink with freckles more vivid against the rosy flush. It's not too much, at least Paul certainly wouldn't admit that it's too much, but a little rest from the intensity is good. "Give it a minute."

"Get me the supplies and I can offer you other distractions," Henry suggests, hand lazily twisting over Paul's cock.

Good point. Though Paul can't see how being fucked by Henry gets any less of a result than the foreplay. Henry is certainly meticulous in everything he does and that's definitely not a bad thing. He reaches over to the bedside table - brilliant inventions those - without dislodging Henry's hand and pulls out some lube and a condom from the top drawer. "Here."

Dropping the condom to the mattress, Henry pumps some lube over his fingers. How he loves pump bottles. "Lift up," He murmurs, mouth seeking Paul's again as he busies his left hand with slicking Paul's tight little hole.

Going one better, Paul drags a pillow down and stuffs it beneath his arse. His pucker flexes against Henry's finger as it tickles the rim then slips easily inside. The teasing is always nice, if a little ticklish, but the penetration is a tad uncomfortable. This time, however, there's enough lube that it only lasts for a moment before burning away into an odd pleasure.

Beautiful. Finger moving slowly in and out of the velvety clench of Paul's body, Henry hums appreciatively. The sound is buzzed over Paul's lips. Henry deepens the kiss. His finger curls, brushing over Paul's sweet spot.

Henry's mouth is filled with a sudden moan. Paul arches hard against him, fingers digging into his biceps as the shock of pleasure crashes over him. "'ucking 'ell."

Pulling back, Henry gives him a smug grin. "What was that? Didn't hear you." The touch is still little more than a light caress, a tease of sensation against the swell of tissue.

Paul shivers and squeezes Henry's arms tighter as his breath gets caught in his throat. That doesn't stop him from matching the man's grin however, and as Paul tightens his arsehole, trapping Henry's finger, it's clear that he's lost none of his cheek. "I said; 'wow, that Henry fellow has a tiny dick.' "

"Don't bitch or you won't get the chance to," Henry growls playfully.

"I'll always find ways to tease you and you know it," Paul quips back. "Feel my greedy pucker sucking your dick?" he murmurs, squeezing Henry.

"Patience," Henry smiles, twisting a second finger into Paul's heat.

It elicits a soft gasp and another involuntary clench, but then Paul relaxes more easily into Henry's gentle stroking. The hard, warm throb against his thigh is a sure sign that it's incredibly pleasant.

"I could watch you all day." Slowly Henry finger fucks Paul, truly enjoying the view.

"M'glad," Paul huffs back, eyelids sinking partially closed. His freckles are more vivid, standing out against otherwise pale cheeks. " 'Cause you can't change channels."

Henry curls his fingers, giving Paul a little more friction. "Do you ever shut up?" That's a fucking warped question, coming from Henry who really never does shut up.

Luckily for him, Paul's answer comes as a groan rather than a comeback. Doesn't mean Henry won't get it later though. They both enjoy the banter and both know it. It certainly doesn't distract Paul from the true pleasure. That much is obvious when he grinds his cock against Henry's thigh.

The motion makes Henry chuckle. "Want something?" Of course he knows that Paul wants. He knows what Paul wants, for that matter.

Paul, being Paul, usually wouldn't treat Henry with such a straightforward answer. Since Henry's fingers are giving his brain a little distraction however, he helpfully supplies one that is dripping with lust. "Your dick in my arse."

"More lube first, hmmm?" Henry does exactly that, pulling his fingers free and coating them with more gel before slicking them back into Paul's ass.

"More lube my arse," Paul quips, then grins widely. He can't help one more poke, it's too tempting to resist. Henry loves it, it means he has more of a reason to screw him. Not that Henry ever needs a reason to screw anyone.

"Mmmhmm," Henry purrs, extracting his revenge by raking the backs of his knuckles roughly across Paul's prostate.

The noise Paul makes sounds as though he has something caught in his throat. Very effective revenge tactic that. Considering it makes Paul's brain shut down.

Pulling his fingers free, Henry kneels up to wipe the excess lube over his cock. Settling into position, he lines up with Paul's hole, teasing the glans over the loosened pucker of muscle. He's not in a rush with this. Letting Paul set the pace makes it better for them both.

It's nice, for the first few seconds, but it's been nice since they first got naked. Now Paul wants it to be electric. His hand moves to Henry's thigh and pulls him forward, ice blue eyes focussed on him.

Henry exhales softly, replacing the tension with calm. The slow pace is killing him, but the urge to shove forward, to take, is fading. His arms tremble slightly. "Feels good?"

It doesn't go unnoticed. As his cock slowly sinks in, Paul hums in pleasure. "Very." He strokes Henry's arm, silently thanking him for the patience. "You always feel good."

There's humor in the tight smile. "Should let me top more often." And they both know that Henry's not serious. He's no real complaints with the dynamic between them.

"Mm, maybe." Like Henry's, it's not really a serious comment, but it leaves it open. Paul isn't against Henry topping, obviously otherwise he wouldn't be letting him do this, but he has to agree that the dynamic is perfect as it is. "The best sex is had this way."

"Hmmm? My prick wedged up your ass?"

Not quite what Paul meant, but close enough. He grunts his agreement and gives Henry more distractions, fingers finding one of his nipples again and twisting.

It's an brilliant burn that lights off the sparks over Henry's nerve endings. "Ahhh!" Henry arches, the motion sheathing him fully.

If that's the reaction it gets, Paul has an idea. His other hand finds Henry's other nipple and he twists again, grinning when he feels the man's hips jerk a second time. It's a little deep and a little intense, but well worth it to see the flushed look on Henry's face.

"Fuck." Henry grins. "Fetish?" If he sounds a bit breathless, it's no fault of his own.

"Mmhmm." Paul twists harder, loving the hiss it gets and the ungraceful squirm. Interesting. "Doesn't mean you should stop fucking me."

"That a request," Henry pulls out until he's barely even in Paul, "or a demand?"

As if to tempt him, Paul tightens his muscle. "Whatever will get what we both want."

A shiver chases around Henry's gut. "I'm good. Thanks for asking, Paul, you're always such a gentleman." A gentleman with his legs spread. Henry eases back in, slower than slow, teasing them both.

Paul groans, feeling every inch as it fills him. Not one for really rough fucking, the pleasure he gets from this does far more for him than being drilled to buggery. Proved nicely as his cock seeps between their bellies. "Horny gentleman."

"There is that," Henry agrees.

Another slow, easy roll of his hips, pleasure building on pleasure. Henry gives in, closes his eyes finally and for the moment just immerses himself in the feeling of Paul against and around him.

Arms around Henry's wide back, Paul holds him close. The only things that move are the rhythmic rise and falls of their chests and the slow, slight grind of Paul's hips as they work Henry's cock. It's beautiful in it's simplicity. No need for pain.

Henry's hips rock steadily now. Paul feels so damn good. Electric bursts of hot pleasure sizzle over his nerves and Henry lets out a long, low growl.

Paul feels it in the slight tremors down Henry's spine. He follows them with his fingers, stroking down the ridge and swallows the sweet, feral moans in a kiss.

Those kisses could drive him to distraction and then some. Henry breaks away, finally, pushing up on trembling arms to blink lazily down at the other man. "Fucking good... hmmm?"

"Mm. You know I could do this forever, though I'm thinking that would drive you insane." Paul gives him a sympathetic smile that rapidly turns into a cheeky one. "Perhaps I could get you drinking tea yet. Keep your blood sugar up."

"Ha ha," Henry laughs, brushing a kiss over Paul's temple. "You'll be begging me for more soon enough." The kiss trails lower, past Paul's ear, down his throat. And here is where the difference in their heights work's to Henry's advantage. Because it isn't really a strain to fuck Paul and suck his nipples at the same time.

Ooh... Paul sucks in a breath, chest rising to meet Henry's mouth. It's not enough stimulation to come, but he fixes that, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking slowly. "Don't wait for me."

Henry laughs against Paul's nipple, teeth catching at it and grinding lightly. He can feel Paul's knuckles brushing against his belly. Deliberately, he slows the rocking of his hips to match, fucking Paul in time to his wanking.

With the perfect combination of pleasure, Paul works himself to orgasm. Henry keeps time with him all the way through, even when Paul tenses and gasps as the ecstacy trickles over him, his climax calm and quiet.

Lifting his head to watch, Henry is awed. Fuck but Paul is gorgeous in his pleasure. Gently, Henry rocks his hips through every bit of it, pulling away finally as the aftershocks fade to barely there flutters around him. "Damn hot," he sighs, pecking a kiss on Paul's mouth.

Paul opens his eyes with a satiated sigh, blues meeting Henry's soft browns with warmth. "Didn't say you had to wait," he says with a smile.

"It's all good." Henry shrugs, moving up beside Paul. Something that's come with age is patience.

"Then let me," Paul murmurs, shifting down the bed and pulling the condom from Henry's cock. He spreads a palm over the man's chest, partially to hold him steady and as a brace for himself, and takes Henry in his mouth.

Paul's mouth is one of his best attributes, in more than one way. Henry closes his eyes, hissing in a breath through his nose as the pleasure trickles through him. One hand comes up to tangle in the soft of Paul's hair, fingers kneading to let the man know exactly how much he is enjoying it.

With slow sworls and licks, Paul keeps him hard. He knows Henry loves it when he teases the small groove below the head and he worries it with the tip of his tongue, teeth dragging lightly over the crown.

"Fuck. Me. Yes." Henry rocks his hips up, the motion slight, too shallow to move him much, but enough to give Paul an indication of what he wants.

All too happy to oblige, Paul lowers his mouth, lips sliding down around Henry's length. Though he knows Henry won't choke him, he rests his hands on the man's hips. Paul doesn't hold him down, it's just a reminder not to get too carried away as he sucks the blood right from his cock.

Brains too. Henry shudders, melts into the mindless pleasure. The climax is pulled from him in slow motion, a low moan drawn past parted lips as his cock twitches and spills down Paul's throat.

Paul swallows it down without a fuss and pulls off, moving back up to lay beside Henry. "Shouldn't go without," he says with a chuffed smile. Henry looks completely boneless.

"Rnph." Henry manages a lazy blink as he drapes an arm around Paul.

It's warm and comforting and Paul settles in, tucking his head into the crook of Henry's shoulder. "Now who's got the great vocabulary, hmm?"

"Fuck. You." Henry has a wonderful vocabulary. It's brain cells that he has trouble with at the moment.

Paul laughs and pets his friend's belly sympathetically. Henry has always had a way with words. "Later, darling, later."

Paul Bettany and David Tennant out for lunch and lust.

emachi@gmail.com — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 18:34:43 GMT

[Took place late January]

"DAVID."

Paul waits a beat, waits for the man to recover from the surprise of having his name yelled out across the empty theatre room. He does enjoy making people jump, especially when there's an echo.

David nearly drops his sword when he hears his name yelled out. "Bollocks." Rehearsals were almost over and he was just re-reading some of the new notes for the fight scene. "Oy this is a closed rehearsal." He moves closer to the front of the stage where the lights won't impede his vision so much.

And then he grins. "Oh it's you."

Paul can see the flash of teeth from where he's standing and he too grins as he makes his way toward the stage. "Not going to chuck me out now, are you? Or will I have to show my 'I'm an actor' card to the security?"

David laughs as he gets down off the stage, leaving the sword and heading up the aisle toward Paul. "Oh no, chucking you out is no where on my list of things. And I'll just tell security you're with me. They won't even bat an eye."

"Not even if they think I'm handsome?" Paul asks, then chuckles and pulls David into a hug, clapping him on the shoulder. "How are you?"

"Well there is that one guard...," David grins and hugs Paul back tightly. "I'm doing marvellous, even better now," he says with a smile. "And how are you?"

"Freezing my butt off. Do you know how cold it is out there?" Paul complains, naturally.

David laughs. "It's not THAT cold out. You just need to be more warm blooded, or find ways of keeping yourself warm Paul," he says, a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "What say you we get out of here, find someplace warmer and get something to drink?"

"My idea of warm is a nice hot cup of tea and, unless you have one of those conveniently on you then lead on." Paul gestures for him to do so then falls into step beside him. "How are the lines coming?"

Patting himself down, David looks at Paul and shrugs. "Damn, must have left them in my other jeans," he says grinning again. He leads around and backstage of the theatre. "I just need to grab my coat and we can go. I know a great cafe right around the corner. Amazing tea, and cake too."

Paul grins, his freckles standing out as his cheeks get rosy from the warmth. "Tea and cake, a man after my own heart. Will they mind me stealing you?"

"In my world, there is always room for tea and cake." Shaking his head, David opens the door to his dressing room. "Oh no, we were done a bit ago, I just wanted to work on some things." He grabs his jacket and his messenger bag and turns back to Paul. "I'm all yours."

"Oh those famous last words," Paul says with a smirk. "You know perfectly well not to use those on me if last time is anything to go by." He starts walking back towards the entrance, hands returning to their warm pockets.

David laughs. "Oh too true, too true." He leaves the dressing room with Paul and shuts the door again. He leads the way down the hallway and outside. "Maybe I know exactly what I'm saying. I remember last time very well," he says smirking with a small chuckle. They walk down the street and around the corner, heading toward the cafe.

Paul recognises the cafe as one he's popped into on occasion when he's been in this part of London, but he's only ever sampled the tea from here. Something which must be fixed. "What cake would you recommend?"

David smiles and opens the door for Paul as they reach the cafe. "You've never had any of the cake? Dreadful," he says teasing. "I'm rather fond of the cranberry scones. Not true cake, but so good nonetheless. The recommendation would depend on what kind of tea you'll have as well as where your tastes lie."

"Scones it is then, I trust your judgement and if they turn out to be the most awful tasting things on the planet then I'll just have to break out the Marmite." Paul heads to the counter and orders the scones and some tea.

David wrinkles his nose as the mention of Marmite. "That's not even funny. But don't worry. I wouldn't steer you wrong." He moves behind Paul and orders his usual order of tea and the scones as well. "There's a table in the corner by the window. We should grab it."

"Consider it grabbed." Paul weaves through the other tables to the window and promptly takes a seat. He stretches his legs out, moves them to let David by, then stretches out again. "Now, besides work, how're things going?"

He follows and eases into the chair across from Paul, relaxing as they sit. "Is there anything else besides work?" David says and laughs. "No just kidding. Things are fine, good. It's keeping me more busy than not but I make sure to find time for myself. What about you?"

Paul shrugs. "Yeah, not much. Been to America a couple of times for promos and checking out the locals. So who's the new Dr Who?" The question comes so suddenly and unexpected that Paul hopes David won't think against answering it.

"Ah yeah I wanted to go there again, visit or what not. Maybe when a get a free moment." He almost just continues and answers Paul's question and smiles. "You know how much in trouble I would get if I said anything about that? Try to get me into hot water with everyone?" he added with a smirking grin.

The look he gets couldn't be any less innocent. "Ah come on, you know me, I wouldn't tell a soul."

Laughing David, just shakes his head. "That is the worst innocent face I have ever seen. And honestly they haven't told me anything for sure yet. It's still a year off or so and maybe they just don't want to ruin the surprise," he said, his own innocent face back at Paul.

"Well that's a shame. As soon as you find out, just let me know," Paul says, not even attempting to sound innocent as he flashes David a grin.

David smiles wide and nods. "You'll be one of the first people I call, how about that? Luckily for me that is still a ways off. So I'll just have to find SOME reason to call you," he says smirking.

"What, like accidentally on purpose leaving your glove in my pocket and wanting to come around to get it?" Paul snorts out a laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I'm not falling for that one again."

Grinning wide, David shrugs innocent enough. "That's too bad. Maybe I'll have to leave my scarf or my favourite football hoodie. Can't be going too long with out that now can I. I would just HAVE to ring you up so I could retrieve them, now wouldn't I?" David is far too amused and if things go the way he wants them to, the rest of the day and night would be extremely entertaining.

Paul snorts, not that impressed. "If you left that there, I'd have to burn it. Can't have you contaminating my house with Rangers stuff. Or are you a Celtic kinda guy?"

He scowls in jest. "Not the Rangers.... If you burned my Man U hoodie, I'm afraid I would have to hurt you. Very very badly," he says, but the teasing grin belies some of the seriousness. SOME of it.

"Man United?" Paul stares at him in utter shock and a disgust. "You are a barbarian."

David sits back and crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "Really Paul. You are overly dramatic sometimes. Unless you're a Liverpool fan. Then I'm afraid there's no hope." He sips his tea, smirking against the rim of his cup.

"Liverpool?" Again Paul turns his nose, and his eyebrow, up. "I'm insulted. I'm a Londoner, born and bred, mate. Can't beat Arsenal."

David leans on the table resting on his hand and looks at Paul. "Oh but of course. How could I not know that? You just like saying 'ARSE...nal." David laughs at the very terrible pun but it was there and he had to do it. "What can I say, as a Scot I've been led astray," he added with a bit more of a smirk.

Paul snorts. "Yeah, about two hundred odd miles astray." The waitress stops by with their tea and scones and Paul waits until she's left before shifting, elbows on the table as he leans in. "You're the one who has an obsession with me saying arse," and he says that last word with a very British accent.

He shrugs but still grins back at Paul. "What's a few hundred miles here or there?" He pushes his water to the side as their stuff arrives and David copies Paul's movement, leaning on the table. "No, I'm the one who's obsessed with YOUR arse," he says, letting his Scottish accent roll over his tongue and winks at his friend.

It doesn't phase Paul one bit that they're sitting in a cafe discussing the appeal of his arse. In fact it's quite a nice topic of conversation for a cold day. "You know fully well that you can't handle my arse."

A brief pause for a sip of tea and David smirks at Paul. "Oh no, it's been a while. You'd be very surprised just how much I can handle these days," he replies, chuckling.

"Surprised at everything but my arse," Paul corrects. He slices his scone in half and dollops on the cream and jam. "Though I can see your arse being on that list."

Raising an eyebrow in question, David takes a small bite of his own scone covered in cream and jam and watches Paul. "Oh so your arse is off limits? Saving yourself, hmmm?" he says teasingly. "And really, I don't tend to handle my own. Why do you want to Paul?"

"Not particularly, no. Though I can think of several things I might do with other parts." He lets David wonder about that, not about to give him any clues. "And yes, my arse is off limits."

"Oh? Other parts, any particular ones in mind?" he asks and smirks as he does so. "Fine fine. It's a good waste of a very good arse but okay, yours is off limits. Moving on, tell me more." David is very curious now, just because he wants to see just what is on Paul's mind.

"Ah now, I shouldn't give away the tricks of my trade." While David knows that Paul likes men, he doesn't yet know that he's a kinky fucker. While Paul is certain that he wouldn't disgust the man with talk about it, it's not something he'd bring up in ordinary conversation, even with a friend.

"Hmm no I wouldn't dream of making you give up all your secrets," David says with a grin. "Not yet," he chuckles. David leans back in his chair and looks at Paul. If they played their cards right, they could share both of their secrets, albeit not all of them. "Perhaps we should, finish and go... elsewhere to discuss our trade secrets." David is more than happy to entertain Paul and since he has a free afternoon and evening, it seems a good time as any.

Paul's eyebrows reach his hairline at the suggestion, curious as to what David is insinuating. Tactfully, he hides any smirk or smile behind his mug of tea. "You have something dodgy to share with me? I'm chuffed. Where do you have in mind?"

David laughs. He's not about to just stand on the table and shout out. Certainly not in the coffee shop at least. "Dodgy? Certainly not. Curious, interesting and possibly exciting, well that is all up to you Paul, now isn't it? And your place, my place, though I dare say we might share the same taste in... clubs too come to think of it."

"Clearly you know something I don't," Paul says at length, setting his mug back down and focusing an amused stare at him. "Should I be a member of any club? Unless you mean the British Tea Drinkers Society, in which case yeah, I'll go with that."

Hedging and mysterious, David remains curious. "Ah but most of the country is a member of that club, aren't they?" Hinting isn't David's strong suit but then it is tricky to speak of things not to be discussed in public. He takes a long sip of his tea, noticing it cooling more. "So I've been in Cardiff for too long and not too long in London, at least not for a while. What would you recommend for a good time, hmm? We could leave once we're done and enjoy the rest of the day," he says with a smile.

Paul frowns, somewhat surprised that David has avoided the question, or rather maybe forgotten about it. Instead of skirting around the subject any longer, he makes what would be an innocent and somewhat amusing comment to anyone who didn't belong on the scene. "You really are eager to whip my arse, aren't you?"

Looking over the rim of his cup, David smiles and slowly sets it down and looks at Paul. He has been right on his suspicions. "Yes Paul, I am, very eager. I relish the idea of whipping your arse a great deal," replies David. "The question is, are you ready to receive such a whipping?"

There, it's out now, laid out on the table in front of them plain and clear and Paul has his answer. "I know which club you mean and yes, we can head over there. Not sure on the whipping, I'll decide that later. I'll feel more obliged if you let me have at your cock for some torture and then you can whip me, or beat or whatever."

David puts his cup down and smiles. "I say what are we still doing here then? I believe we could have more pressing things to be doing. You can have me, my cock as you see fit and I shall return the favour... whipping, beating... that can be decided but later." Now that the small talk was done and things are out and they seemed to be on the same page, David is eager to put the tea down and be off.

"After you then." Paul finishes off his tea and steals a crumb off the plate before following David.

David gets up and heads out of the shop. It is a quick work of getting to the club from there and soon they find themselves in a nice and simple room, furnished with everything they would need. He takes a few steps and then turns a bit more toward Paul as he slides out of his coat, laying it across one of the chests. "So, what's it to be then, hmm?"

Paul takes off his coat and drapes it over a spanking bench, smoothing out the creases. "Since you're eager to give me the lead, I'll take it. Get your kit off and jump on the bed."

David isn't so sure if it is eagerness or anxiousness on his part, but he figures why delay. He undoes his shirt and lays it on top of his jacket, kicks off his shoes and moves to his jeans. He isn't giving Paul a show so to speak but it's there if he wants it. Jeans, boxers and the rest soon find their place atop his jacket and he turns, moving to the bed against the middle of the wall. He sits on the edge, hand on either side and looks back up to Paul.

Before he chooses the bits he needs, Paul enjoys the eye candy for a moment, eyes eating up David's frame. "Very nice." He gets a small leather thong from one of the drawers and a tiny silver flogger that he'd specifically asked for downstairs. Small things, but incredibly intense and sharp, only requiring a light slap to get the full effect. Paul happens to like the little things a great deal. "Remind me of your safeword," he asks David as he perches on the edge of the bed and gestures at him to lay down.

He smiles and watches Paul as he moves, taking the items from the drawer and then coming toward the bed. David nods and slides back, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. It wasn't often he put himself into these situations, but sometimes, it just felt right; times like this. "My safeword is Tardis," David replies simply as he gets settled and placing his arms down on the side of his body.

"Tardis," Paul echoes, committing it to memory. Without any further ado he lifts David's cock and balls up and slips the leather thong beneath, making a tight knot around the soft package. He loves to play this way, enjoys the teasing that comes with it. David finds out what that teasing is when Paul takes him in his mouth.

David lays still, holding his breath when Paul takes the tie, and ties it around him. The pressure is instant but it isn't bad. He looks down gasping as Paul takes him in his mouth, the feeling even more intense with the thong tied around him. He can't rush this or let himself go to quickly. Paul is in charge of things at this point.

Not that he could go quickly. Paul is a master of teasing, dragging things out far longer than they need be. Circling the base with long fingers he sucks up slowly as though dragging on a cigarette, savouring the texture and taste of David's wrinkled skin.

David gasps slowly. He wasn't inexperienced and knew when someone knew very well what they were doing. Paul was one of those people. He was getting hard already and the binding wasn't painful, not yet, but the slight pressure is there and David can feel it starting to affect the rest of his body.

Ice blue eyes watch his every reaction. Maintaining the slow pace, Paul rests one hand on David's thigh, fingers applying a slight pressure. He keeps it up until David throbs hard in his mouth then lets him slip free, the cock bobbing lewdly.

He wants to move, to thrust into Paul's mouth but he holds back all the while the pressure builds as he gets harder. David's breathing gets a bit faster and he tilts his head to keep watching Paul's head moving over his hips. He shifts a little when his cock is freed, spreading his legs a bit more, waiting for the next moment.

It's a lovely cock, swollen and red and Paul knows his lips look similar. "This is going to hurt," he warns David as he picks up the small silver flogger. The cold tails trail over hot flesh and David twitches. The great thing about this flogger is that it only takes a light slap to get a hard effect.

David arches up when it hits hip, his hands clenched tightly and moans as the pain scorches through him. It IS a little thing packing a hard touch. Between the pain from that, and the increasingly painful state of his bound cock, David's mind races as he tries to focus and keep his mind and eyes on Paul.

The next few swipes are a little lighter, dotting a line of red stripes up David's fleshy thigh. It's not outrageously painful, but just enough to keep him interested and keep him on edge. Paul smiles when David jumps each time the tails connect, remembering himself how intense the tiny tails can be.

David moans each time the flogger hits his skin. It doesn't hurt so much as grab his attention and sting, and he likes it. He moves his legs a little, his hands still grasping the comforter and keeping his eyes focused on Paul and trying to think how hard his cock is getting from the stimulation.

Paul stops suddenly, waits a beat for David to relax, then taps the flogger against his cock. Only a tap is required to get the desired effect; a sharp inhale and grunt. All the tenseness returns to David's body in what must be a painful swat.

David let's himself take a breath and pause when Paul stops but all too soon he realises the error. He bites his bottom lip as the flogger strikes his cock. The strikes to his legs are one thing but his cock is so hard now with the thong at its base, that it is a toss up between the pain just being painful and it being that of pleasure. But he doesn't want Paul to stop.

Paul isn't going to swat him again there. He's not that sadistic. At least not immediately after. Pacing the blows, he waits for several minutes, stroking David's cock slowly in between very light swats to his dick. Pain and pleasure slowly intermingling.

David groans through his teeth and squirms a bit more. His body is on edge teetering between pleasure and the continuing pain. It's a different feeling but not an unfamiliar one to him and despite the pain his cock is in currently, Paul's stroking and the light swats are turning him on as much as they are causing pain.

"How is that feeling?" Paul lays the last swat down then moves away from David's cock. The skin is a deep red, sore and swollen and looking absolutely beautiful.

Relaxing only slightly when Paul moves, David looks up at him. "Bloody hurts, but in a good way," he manages to get out. His skin is stinging and his cock more than aches. But he is also far from wanting to throw out his safety word at all.

"Good." Paul shifts, moving to the side to get into a better position to flog David's chest. "This might be more sensitive," he warns, letting the tails slide over the soft nubs, tickling nerve endings.

Even trying to be prepared for it, David still cries out just a bit as the tails tease his already sensitive skin. Going over his nipples just adds to it. He can feel his skin getting warmer, and the need to have some release is starting to grow but he fights that, looking up at Paul as he waits for the next movement, the next trail of the flogger over his skin.

The silver links flick over his nipple with a light smack followed by a pause as Paul waits for David to settle. Every flick makes the man's back arch beautifully and his nipples flush red. Each one receives five swats, evenly paced until they're standing out sharply, a rosy colour against his chest.

David tries to focus on something other than the smack of the flogger but his body has other ideas. He's well past trying to quiet the moans and groans escaping through his lips as new parts of his body are assaulted. His cock aches as his need to come is growing, his chest is hot and his nipples, always so sensitive, are reacting to every touch Paul lays upon them.

As soon as the last flick falls, Paul lowers his head and takes one of the hard nipples in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the hot flesh, teasing it between his lips as he savours the feel of David, that and the sounds he's making.

David has barely enough time to realise the flogger has stopped before Paul's warm torturous mouth is teasing his nipple. He gasps and moans, wanting to grab for Paul's hair but he doesn't. Instead he grips at the comforter, pushing up off the bed a little.

Paul goes with the movement, keeping a firm grip with his teeth until David exhales. Then he releases it with a lick over the slightly dented flesh and feels the shudder ripple through the body beneath him.

He can't stop moaning as Paul's mouth attacks his senses like he is. His hand moves up to Paul's arm, steadying him, holding him tight, not wanting him to stop either. It does nothing to help his straining hard cock as he pushes up off the bed against Paul's mouth. "more, god.... fuck," he moans, his voice deep, almost a growl.

"More of that? Or shall I let you come, hmm?" It's mean to make him choose, but Paul does love watching David struggle.

David opens his mouth but isn't sure. What Paul is doing feels really really good but on the other hand, his cock is straining and hard and coming would be very good too. "Come, please let me come... for now... need...."

Paul nods, once, completely in control. He lifts David's cock and slowly unties the knotted leather thong then gently works the blood back into it with experienced fingers.

David feels his body shaking and he groans louder as Paul strokes his cock. He pulls at the sheets and cries out as the blood fills his cock again now that it's free from the bondage and as Paul keeps stroking him, he lets go and the orgasm hits him hard, his body arching up off the bed, shaking against Paul.

"Mm..." Paul stays close, and keeps stroking slowly, easing him through it. The loss of control is always something gorgeous, especially the vibrations from David's body against his cock. "That good?"

He lays back against the bed even as Paul's hand continues to move. The long teasing has left him still on edge even after his orgasm, and he groans as he looks up slowly at Paul. "Mmm fuck.... better than good."

Paul smiles and lets go of him, settling down by his side. "Glad you didn't drill my arse?" He asks with amusement and a soft kiss to David's lips.

David sighs and smiles a little as Paul gets closer. "Mmmm I think so, though I still wouldn't mind," he answers teasing a bit, tipping his head up a little more and kissing Paul back just as soft in return.

"Next time I promise. You can drill it as much as you want," Paul assures him. He indulges in another kiss, slow and sensual, enjoying the company.

David reaches up, still smiling, and snakes his hand to the nape of Paul's neck. "I'm going to hold you to that promise." He responds and leans into the continued kiss even more, enjoying the slow deliberate movement as well as Paul being so close to him, still buzzing a little from earlier.

Paul lets it last for a few more lazy seconds then gives David his mouth back. "Do you need anything? A drink perhaps?"

David sighs and lays back a bit and nods. "I could do with a drink, certainly," he answers, still a smile on his face, his body starting to relax once again.

Calling room service, Paul doesn't need to ask David what he wants. It's a good thing the Establishment never runs out of tea.

Sane advice for those pet lovers.

emachi@gmail.com — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 12:56:36 GMT

Never hold a vacuum cleaner and a cat at the same time.

Paul is in LA and Henry definitely needs a visit

emachi@gmail.com — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 02:33:29 GMT

Hearing from Paul had been a surprise, but welcome. To find out that he is in LA, even more so. It's frustrating when Elias immediately finds an excuse to leave, to the point of insisting on it, when Henry suggests that he stay for Paul's visit. More proof that things aren't right with his boy and between them - but Henry lets him go without a fight. He's not sure that fighting it would make any difference anyway.

Catching up with Paul soon takes the frustration away. Even when Paul finds a certain picture laying on an end table. "It's not what it looks like," Henry insists, scowling when Paul snorts out a laugh. "No, I'm serious. I don't wear thongs... see..."

Paul takes a look at the evidence, admiring the firmness of Henry's ass as he tugs his trousers down a touch to flash the boxers underneath. "I see, but maybe I should take a look in your underpants drawer just to make sure, yeah?"

"Fuck you Paul," Henry growls. "I shit you not. My damn shirt was caught in my pants and the hoodie fucking pulled as I stood up." He tugs his jeans back up. "Besides, you go prowling around my drawers, I'm not responsible for shocking your sensibilities."

"Don't mind if I do." Paul gets up from the couch and stands by Henry. His hands go the man's belt and start unbuckling it then slip around to Henry's ass and squeeze through the denim.

That gets another growl for an entirely different reason. One of Henry's hands goes to Paul's hip, the other around the back of his neck, dragging him in for a fast kiss, hard and demanding.

Paul moans and let's Henry pull him close then presses his hips even closer. He tries to slow the kiss, but Henry is determined, sucking the breath from him and when Paul's fingers dig into his ass painfully, the kiss gets rougher.

Henry can't help it. Paul's responses drive his own. It's a combination of the man's own appeal and the fact that by nature he's usually the dominant partner. Henry moans into the man's mouth, teeth catching at Paul's lips.

While Paul is taller than Henry by several inches, Henry makes up for it in bulk. In a wrestling match there's no doubt over who would win, but their styles of pleasure and personality are completely different. Paul can be rough too and he would nip back, bite Henry even, but he doesn't want to. Instead his hands grab Henry's waistband and give his jeans a yank down. If Henry tries to move now he may well fall flat on his face.

The move makes Henry laugh, breaking the kiss to grin at Paul. "You know, if you wanted to suck my cock, you should have just told me."

Paul smiles back, but he's not about to drop to his knees. "On the contrary, I'm prowling around your drawers."

Henry gives Paul a heated look, eyes gleaming with dark thoughts. "There might be consequences..."

"Oh? Do tell." Wearing an expression of interest, Paul takes a seat back on the couch and lounges like a large cat, openly admiring and chuckling a bit at the sight Henry presents.

One brow arches. "Paul... you tempt me."

Paul shrugs, not so innocently. "And?"

"And?" Henry snorts. Crosses his arms, kicking out of his pants entirely. "You don't play the way you make me want you."

"I'm open to suggestions."

Both brows lift. "Really?" Henry asks. "Knowing me and you say that?"

"Because I know you," Paul clarifies so there's no miscommunication. There never is between the two, both men always being at ease with each other and both very blunt.

Well that's... interesting. "You'd trust me that far?"

Paul's gaze flickers to the table as he debates with himself. "I've done certain things with others, I just wouldn't say I'm good at taking orders, so don't expect much."

Henry blinks. Slowly. Processes the image of Paul on his knees. "Shit."

"If I told you that I've been spanked by Ian McKellen, would that make you feel any better?" Paul watches him now, eyes serious, wanting Henry to understand his stance exactly. "Just don't assume that automatically makes me his bitch."

"Paul, I wouldn't assume anything with you. And certainly not that. Fuck." Henry sits down on the couch next to him. "Were you over his knee or on a bench or what?" The thought is mind boggling.

Paul blanches at the thought of being laid over someone's knee, even Ian's. "Just on my hands and knees on the floor and I can tell you it wasn't the most comfortable of positions to be in. If I ever did it again I'd favour the bed."

"Personally, I was picturing you chained to the rafters." What the fuck, Henry figures, since the conversation has taken this turn he might as well go for broke. Besides, it isn't like Paul is going to be shocked by Henry's pravity.

He certainly isn't shocked, but that's not to say Paul isn't surprised. It's more than what he was expecting from Henry, having figured he might want something more along the lines of sex or more extreme dominance. Paul can't help a glance up to the ceiling. "Does this mean I'll finally get to see your play room?"

Okay. So Henry is the one shocked. Again. He nearly chokes. "That's a yes?"

Blue eyes flicker back to him and Paul shrugs. "Sure."

Still stunned, Henry doesn't respond for a long moment. He's too busy thinking over what Paul is giving him. "Come here," he says softly, holding an arm out and gesturing for Paul to move closer.

Paul moves, twisting around at the waist to face Henry, one hand balancing himself over the man's lap. For all of his calm exterior, Paul's stomach is about as skittish as Henry's right now and he's half tempted to have a smoke. He doesn't care that he quit, when he really does crave one, not even his will can stop him.

Henry's arm goes around his shoulder, pulling until Paul is against his chest. "Relax," he breathes, brushing his lips over Paul's lightly. It's a request, not a demand for a kiss, letting Paul give instead of just taking.

Of course Paul indulges him. How could he resist? He doesn't just indulge Henry though, he indulges himself and that is the most important thing. Light stubble rasps over Henry's chin as Paul kisses him deeply, tongue easing between his teeth to stroke, relax them both.

It isn't long before Henry's hand finds its way to Paul's ass, squeezing lightly. Henry moans, cock throbbing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Fuck but he wants what Paul has offered, even if it means he's going to have to tread lightly.

Paul echoes that moan, a low hum into Henry's mouth and he presses back into the big man's hands. God but he makes him feel good. Henry is so surprisingly tender for someone who looks like he does, and that's one of his charms. Slipping a hand to the obvious bulge in Henry's boxers, Paul rubs his hand against it with the intent of making him more vocal.

More vocal and more grabby. Henry practically drags Paul over his lap, manoeuvring them so Paul is straddling him. "I'd want to do more than spank you," he growls between kissing.

"Tell me," Paul murmurs, teeth nipping Henry's lips, tugging on them. It would help him if he knew at least what he was letting himself in for. Though there's no doubt in either man's mind that the communication would be kept up no matter what they end up doing.

"I'd like to hit you," says Henry. He pulls back to look Paul in the eyes. "With my fists. Percussive play."

That gives him pause. Paul's never been a violent man and never one to really understand the need to beat each other up save for the feeling of release. His brows knit together as he looks back at Henry, face coloured in confusion. "You want to hit me?"

Henry watches the emotions flicker through Paul's expression. He nods slowly. "Chain you and hit you. You've never done anything like that have you?"

Paul shakes his head slowly and deliberately. "The hitting part doesn't exactly make me leap for joy," he admits.

"The impact is directed at heavy muscle," Henry explains. He rubs Paul's thighs, feeling the tension in the other man. "Think more Swedish massage than punching bag."

"Oh, I see." Paul nods. He knows what a Swedish massage is, but even then he can't imagine Henry stringing him up just to give him a massage. "Is there anything else you want to do?"

"Finish explaining the percussion play first." So sue him for being stuck on the subject. Henry shrugs. Smiles as he pats Paul on the hip. "Get up."

Paul slides to his feet and offers Henry a hand, pulling him up when he takes it. "There's more to it than just pummelling me a massage?"

Henry laughs, half hugging him before taking his hand and leading him down the hall. "There can be. Whatever we do, I want you to be comfortable with the thought before you start. And for all the talk here about what I want, I'm not hearing much about what you want." He opens the door across from the master bedroom. "The playroom," he says, gesturing for Paul to enter.

It's like walking in to a fetish club room. Only bigger and better equipped and more spacious. As Paul steps in and takes a look around, he wonders with a chuckle if there's any need for him to go to the Est again. There's a huge four poster bed on the left wall, complete with bondage points on all the columns. Beside that hanging up along the wall are Henry's impressive collection of crops and floggers, and on the opposite, dark cabinets that house toys Paul can only guess at. In the very centre, his eyes are drawn to a large hook sticking out of the ceiling, hanging from which is a chain. "Is that my crucifix?" he asks as he feels Henry press up behind him, breath on his neck.

"So..." Henry nuzzles soft skin. "What tickles your fancy Paul?"

A myriad fantasies swirl through his head and once again Paul takes hs eyes slowly around the room. The floggers and bed in particular catch his attention and he can envision a boy chained down, silk scarf tight around the base of his swollen cock. The tails of a flogger glide sensually over the straining flesh then snap back suddenly and the sweet cry of pain fills the air. That is very fanciful... especially with Henry, but Paul knows none of that will happen. Not with his friend. Not that he doesn't try asking again. "Are you sure you don't like pain?"

"I don't," answers Henry, "but it would seem that you do. To what extent is that, I wonder?"

Henry steers them both to the bed. "Lie down, Paul."

"Can't persuade you...?" Paul asks as he sits himself on the bed and swings his legs up.

"If I won't fucking enjoy it, would you still be interested?" Henry nods, "Roll over. Ass up."

Paul hesitates, wondering if Henry intends to fuck him, but his conscience quickly gives him a boot up the arse. If he wants bloody hurt you, he wouldn't be fucking you now would he? Come on, Paul, your brain is fucked today. With a snort he rolls over, arms by his sides and relaxes. "No. No point in doing it if you don't enjoy it."

Henry gently rubs at Paul's back. "Same goes for you, hmmm?" He goes from rubbing to gently thumping, the sides of closed fists impacting in a steady tempo. "Close your eyes and relax."

Eyelids flutter shut in obedience and Paul draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. As he does, Henry feels the muscles beneath his shirt become more pliable, soft under his fists. Paul falls silent for a rare moment too as he lets his body decide whether it likes this new massage.

Keeping the force behind the blows easy, Henry works over Paul's back and shoulders. "More?"

"All I'm feeling at the moment is someone thumping my back. Is it meant to feel like a different massage?" Paul can feel some difference, a slight loosening up of his muscles, but that's about it. Though he realises it may take a while to actually feel some significant change.

"Not bad, though?" Henry clarifies.

"Oh no, not bad, I'm just not sure if it's meant to be really brilliant or just like this." Paul lets out a sigh, but he's smiling. "It is relaxing though."

"Good." Henry puts more force behind the next blow, driving his fists into the meat of Paul's shoulders.

Paul grunts, the extra strength a surprise, but not unpleasant. It is loosening him up, the tension in his muscles being literally beaten out of him. His judgement is right, given another few minutes of this he has no doubt that Henry will have him wonderfully floppy. As if to prove it, the next sound that he makes is a moan.

That's a welcome sound and Henry smiles, pounding Paul again, and again. Fists meeting flesh in irregular intervals, heavy thumps that drive the breath from him. Finally, Henry sits back, wiping the sweat from his brow, sucking in a slow breath.

Paul opens his eyes slowly. He has a look of freshly fucked about him, lazy and satisfied. "Well, I think I'm ready for round two," he says with a laugh.

It's what Henry had hoped to hear. "Fuck yeah." He pushes back off the bed. "Get undressed. Do you have an aversion to leather cuffs?" asks Henry, opening a cabinet.

"Shouldn't you have a rest first?" Paul teases as he rolls over and scoots to the edge. As he unbuttons his shirt, his eyes linger notably on Henry's arms, damp from the exertion.

"Rest?" Henry snorts, dangling a set of heavy cuffs from one finger. "I'm not even warmed up yet."

The shirt is folded up and laid on the bedside table, followed by the trousers with shoes parked neatly at the bottom. Paul is nothing if not anal about not creasing his clothes. "Your cock is."

Henry rolls his eyes and gives the cuffs a shake. The buckles click together, jangle. "These are lined. Or I have unlined latigo or polished steel if you want to feel it." Yes, he's ignoring the comment about his cock. He has a higher purpose here and won't be diverted.

Feel it? No, Paul isn't that desperate. "Lined is perfect, I'm sure they won't stop me from getting marks at any rate." He holds out his wrists towards Henry for him to put them on.

"We can go easy enough that you shouldn't mark up. Unless you insist on fighting against them," Henry says. He buckles the cuffs in place, checking the fit and adjusting them until he's satisfied that they won't chafe.

Paul checks them too, sliding them around his wrists and making sure they're loose enough, but not loose enough to be an annoyance. "No danger of that. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun."

"Paul," Henry cups his friend's jaw, meets the other man's gaze dead on. "This isn't about me getting off on hurting you. I'm not a sadist."

"I know." Paul's expression is earnest, eyes not wavering as he stares back at Henry. He knows what Henry is all about, and it's not sadism. It's control and dominance. The only one Paul can see himself having problems with is that dominance. Of course it depends, all depends on how Henry makes him feel. They've never taken this route before and Paul honestly has no idea how he'll find it. "It's just the imps in my head talking," he adds with a grin, mirth shining in his blues.

"Tell the bitches to shut the fuck up," Henry fires back, obviously amused. He rubs Paul's neck and shoulders, appreciation in his touch. "Are you ready to move on or do you need a moment?"

A moment to dwell in what ifs and maybes? No, no thank you, Paul doesn't dwell. "Let's move on, it's rather exciting. Especially since it lets me into your head."

"Lets you..." Henry laughs, a soft, honestly amused sound. "Paul, you don't want to know what's in my head." He hooks clips onto the D-rings on the side of the cuffs, attaching that to the chain and then using a small step stool to attach it to the ceiling. He moves with practiced ease - definitely practiced, since he's played with this setup often enough that he could do it blindfolded.

Paul watches it all with interest, taking notes with his head, admiring Henry's clean precision. "I love learning what's in your head. It's a dark mystery and I love dissecting it." Call it a growing interest in Henry.

"My head is fucked up. Better stay on the outside where it's safe." Henry steps back to admire his work. "Anything I need to know before we start? Pulled muscles, strains?"

"Not that I know of," Paul replies. "Unless you mean to do more massage; in which case my arm hurts, I have strained groin muscle and my arse is too tense."

Henry chuckles. "Okay, okay. I get it." He peels off his tee-shirt and pops his neck. "Do you want to watch in a mirror?"

Paul isn't vain, nor is he shy, so thinking of an answer to that question takes a few seconds. The mirror would be for him to watch Henry, and see what he's doing to him, but Paul is a sensualist and he understands the advantage of not being able to see what is going on clearly. "No thank you."

"Here's the thing," Henry moves up behind Paul, pressed close, chest to back, hands sliding over his front. "If you need anything, you damn well tell me. I'm not presuming to run this out as a scene. I'm not expecting a power exchange, nor would I want that."

It makes perfect sense, and makes it easier to view this. It's just some fun play between two friends, nothing more. Nothing that requires much thought, just a little trust and plenty of enjoyment. "I get that," Paul confirms, "and believe me, you'll know if I need anything."

"One other thing. This isn't about pain," Henry murmurs. He kisses Paul's shoulder. "So don't try to be a fucking hero." His hand skims lower, over the sparse hair of Paul's belly, down to the nest of curls at the base of his cock, fingertips teasing at the man's cock until he gets a twitch of interest.

It's easy, so easy to relax under Henry's touches and sure words. Paul turns his head back and nuzzles Henry's until the man meets him in a kiss. His raised arm gets in the way a touch, but Paul doesn't want to ask him to move to a better position, not when Henry's surrounding him like this and making him moan.

It would be so easy to turn it into power play, what with Paul giving over like this. But Henry respects the boundaries they have set between them, and the other man too. It's not worth the risk. Nibbling at Paul's lower lip, Henry moans back, a soft affirmation of the need he's arousing.

Reluctantly, he steps back. Leaves the warmth of Paul's body. He inhales softly, exhales and tells Paul to do the same. A moment to settle them both. "Ready?"

"Yes." Though ready for what, Paul doesn't know. Shoulders relaxed, the buzz of excitement, of not knowing hums in his blood, maintaining the level of arousal.

The blow is harder than what Henry had been doing on the bed, the angle of fist to muscle perfection. It sets Paul off balance, cuff and chain catching at his wrists as he sways with the impact.

He grunts, the thump surprising him. The full length of Henry's arm makes contact, fist to elbow, but it doesn't hurt so much as leave a light throbbing sensation in Paul's muscles. Before he can really digest the feeling and think about it too much another one comes drawing a second 'oof' from him. There's a fair bit of power behind the thud, but still it's not painful in a way Paul can't quite understand.

Henry moves away, breathing slowly and watching Paul sway. Mentally, he places the next blow, judging the strength he should put behind it and the placement before he even moves. It's directly over Paul's back this time, both fists hitting at the same instant and forcing a hiccup of air from Paul's lungs.

"Gnnh." The blow is harder than Paul anticipated. "Thought this was gonna be like the massage," he gasps, sucking in the air he just lost.

"Tell me to stop," Henry answers, more growl than anything. He moves into Paul's space and hits him again, cock twitching, tenting his boxers as the chain rattles and Paul scrambles to stay upright.

After that hit, Paul adjusts his stance to balance himself. His mind is everywhere, trying to make sense of the sensations his body is feeling from the beating. Henry is distracting though and when Paul feels the heat of his body behind him he pushes his shoulders back towards him. "Tease."

"Only because," Henry nuzzles at Paul's throat, "I have a fair idea of what you are capable of taking." While they may never have played this way, Henry is nothing if not observant.

"Oh really?" It's then, when Henry pushes up flush against him that Paul feels the man's erection grind on his arse. "Is it more than this?" His back throbs with a dull ache that leaves a lingering warmth and Henry can already see the blooming blotches fade in on Paul's skin.

"Undoubtedly," Henry answers. He runs his hands up and down Paul's sides. Reaching around, he tweaks at the soft buds of Paul's nipples until they stiffen and stand pert.

Henry's right, of course. Paul catches a breath, arching beautifully in response to his touch. Henry knows his nipples are sensitive and delights in touching them. Paul tugs down on the chains holding his wrists as he tries to curl himself up, but the cuffs hold tight and he groans, unused to the restraint. Henry has him right where he wants him.

Henry kisses Paul's shoulder. "Easy. Just enjoy it." Of course, Paul doesn't have much choice here. Henry rubs the pads of his fingers in lazy little circles over Paul's nips and bites lightly at the meat of one bicep.

Paul closes his eyes and does just that. The biting is a strange addition, a touch of pain against pleasure. It doesn't stop him purring though, Henry's fingers arouse him wonderfully, just a gentle build up of tingling pleasure and it's better with the restraint.

Listening to the soft sounds Paul is making, Henry draws in a slow breath. Time for more then. Without moving away, he drums a fist down the side of Paul's ribs.

It's a sharper pain there, the side of Henry's knuckles against slight muscle and bone and at first Paul bends his body away. On the softer parts it feels nicer, less like it could do damage. Paul knows Henry wouldn't do it if he knew it would seriously hurt him though.

"Ahh... feeling that are you?" The words are a low rumble. Henry slams his fist into Paul's hip.

Paul's reply comes in the form of a grunt. Yeah, he's feeling it, beginning to wonder why he's standing here letting Henry hit him too. It all seems so odd, but Henry's never done something he wasn't sure of before.

Henry spins to the side, just enough distance between them now for him to get some speed behind the punch. Both fists hit Paul's side hard, jostling him. And again, knocking the breath from him.

Not only does the breath go in a whoosh, but Paul stumbles as he gets knocked off balance. His wrist pulls sharply on the cuffs as he tries to drag his arms down to protect his vulnerable sides. Henry reacts quickly, but not to help him and Paul stutters out an exclamation of surprise as lips crash against lips in a fierce kiss.

Wrapping around the other man, Henry moans into the kiss. Paul is trembling, mentally off balance and Henry can feel it. He rubs a hand up his spine to the base of the other man's skull, fingers tightening.

It's a little reassurance. Paul doesn't need much usually, but this situation is beyond what is 'usual' for him. It's a barage of two completely different sensations. Being beaten and being kissed just don't go together in his head. It does give him a chance to balance himself again, however, and he lets Henry help support him, body relaxing to his sure touch.

Drawing back, Henry looks at him, dark eyes curious and maybe just a little concerned. "How are you doing, hmmm?"

Paul stares back, his own eyes looking clouded, a little confused. "I'm okay. Getting used to it, it's strange."

"We can try something else," Henry offers, easily enough. It's really no good for him if Paul is struggling with it.

"No no," Paul is adamant. He hopes that by letting Henry do more and take it through to completion - whatever completion is - that the confusion might lessen and he can get what is meant to be gained from this. He has no doubt that the restraint does heighten the sensations, but it's not a feeling of obvious pleasure that he gets from the beating. His mind says he should find pleasure in it, it tries to feel pleasure in it, but all his body feels is a light throbbing ache. Perhaps after a bit more something will reveal itself. "Carry on."

"Why?" Asks Henry, hands secure on Paul's shoulders.

In the restraints, Paul's fingers flex as he thinks. "You've only just started. I want to see if these things I'm feeling take me anywhere."

"Hmmmm." Henry mouths over the muscles of Paul's chest, lips ghosting around the edges of his nipples, tantalizingly close but never making contact. "Just what are you feeling?"

Paul makes a low sound of frustration and he pushes his chest forward, nipples pebbled in anticipation. "An ache. A kind of throbbing ache."

"And is it good or..." The tip of Henry's tongue catches Paul's nipple and the man shivers, hissing out an unsteady sound. "Is the ache bad, Paul?" Henry licks again, tongue flat over the pert bud.

"Good." With the added stimulation, the ache doesn't feel bad at all. A background throb that Paul is reminded of whenever Henry holds him tightly, fingers finding bruises.

"Mmmmm." Another lick, slower than slow and Henry lightly moves away. Paul sways, finding his footing as Henry circles, prowls, the watchful gaze of a predator sizing up his prey.

The gaze he gets back is not one of fear, however. Paul watches, waiting with steadying breath, his eyes a darker blue than usual. The anticipation is making his pulse thump faster, a hint of adrenaline rushing in his blood.

That is much better. Henry lets out a low growl of approval, hands curling into fists. He waits for Paul's eyes to track the motion, lets the anticipation build a few heartbeats longer.

When the blows finally come, Paul is prepared for them. "Mmn." It doesn't make it hurt any less, however, rather the opposite. It's like having an injection; if you watch it happening it hurts like fuck and if you don't it's a little easier. Which makes Paul wish that he hadn't expected it. The bruise in his thigh blossoms vividly, but, unlike the other punches, this one leaves a more pleasant ache.

The impact of fist on flesh is solid, each thud echoing through muscle and sinew and bone clear up to Henry's shoulders. It's such a satisfying sensation, as close to true sadism as Henry will ever get. Henry purrs, thumping a line up Paul's ribs just hard enough to tease, a hint of respite before another solid blow to Paul's chest, high up on his pecs.

Paul's grunts are harsh now, the playroom filling with the rapid sound of his own unsteady breathing. The pain seems to layer itself, pain on top of pain until it all blends in and seeps into him in one full body throb. A throb that includes his dick. As the intensity combines with Paul's adrenaline, his body shows more interest, nipples pert and pink, cock flushing.

Henry's own breath is coming in rough pants now, arousal tingling through him. He pauses, looking over the sight Paul presents, a low rumble slipping out as he palms his cock through his boxers. "Tell me you like it," he hisses, a damp patch spreading over the cotton fly.

"I like it," Paul echoes the words, a hint of strain in his voice. Of course there's no hiding it, not that he's trying to. His cock sticks out from the patch of strawberry-blond curls right in Henry's field of vision. "It's fucked, but I like it."

"It's not fucked." Henry tweaks a nipple. "Pain, pleasure. It's a fucking point of view."

Paul gasps and shoots Henry a dark look, his normally ice blue eyes glowing several shades towards cobalt. "You changed mine."

"I see," Henry says, smirking as his hand wanders lower. He's still working the other palm over his own cock as he wraps his hand around Paul's.

Paul's hips arch forward, pushing his cock further into Henry's hand. He utters another low moan, cock giving a hot throb. "Don't tease a man now, Henry."

"Teases don't intend to put out." Tiny creases fan out around Henry's eyes in the hint of a smile. He gives Paul's shaft one delicious stroke, root to tip, lightly twisting the foreskin over the glans.

Rising to his tip-toes, Paul's face twists in pleasure. Henry has a special skill with his cock, the way his thumb strokes over all the sensitive spots, knowing where to touch Paul to make him breathless. "You take advantage of me way too easily," he hisses.

"You let me chain you up," Henry points out. Another sure stroke, and another, hand tight enough to tug at loose skin, pulling the hood just a little farther back each time.

Paul doesn't argue. He does have a witty remark, but making it coherent is another matter. His cock swells, a much deeper red than the rest of his body as it juts out sharply. When Henry strokes again, Paul stutters out a high gasp and a drop of pre-come seeps from the slit in his cock and slides down to settle in the fold of his foreskin.

Thumb slicking over Paul's slit, spreading it wide and smearing moisture over the head, Henry laughs. A low, wicked rumble. "Cat got your tongue?"

Henry doesn't get an answer. Chin tucked down to his chest, Paul isn't keeping quiet either. He doesn't find that many people over here that really know what to do with his dick when they see it. They try to push the extra skin out the way and just stroke the shaft, but Henry is far more experienced than most. Especially with Paul's cock. He adjusts his position a tad so his legs don't get numb, moving them closer together in response to the stimulation.

A little more of that treatment and Paul is gasping, trembling. Henry has abandoned stroking his own cock, not wanting to get too close to the edge. "I want to hurt you more," he says, not just moving with the thought, but making certain Paul is good to go on.

"Mmnh."

The grunt could be permission, or it could be telling Henry to fuck off. By the hazy look in Paul's eyes and the rapid fluttering of his abs, it's clear that he's not put off by the idea. The buzz from the beating is still thrumming through his blood and it gives him an odd craving for more. Perhaps not so much more of the initial punch, but the strange pleasure he gets from the burn off.

"Paul?" Henry's hands cup the man's jaw, thumbs tracing gently along smile lines. "Can I hurt you?" The thought sends a delicious shiver up Henry's spine. "May I flog you?"

The answer comes easily this time. Perhaps too easily. "Yes." Paul knows that while it's not the beating that he grew to enjoy, a flogger will give similar sensations if done right.

"You have gorgeous skin for it." Henry scritches up Paul's back, nails raking red lines from the man's ass to his shoulderblades. "You mark so easily."

Paul's back tightens, his shoulders tense, but it's with pleasure. He's heard that comment before, from all of the doms he's ever been with whom he's given permission to hurt him. Which isn't many, but it's certainly a trend and one that's set to continue. It certainly doesn't bother him, but it is frustrating when doms take that as an assumption that he enjoys being hurt. Henry, of course, never assumes.

"How bruised is it?" he asks, head tilting back inquisitively. It doesn't feel that bad, except when Henry touches the marked skin, sending a renewed throb through him.

"Barely shaded. It won't last more than a day," Henry assures. "Relax." He pats Paul's hip and moves away to pull a flogger from the wall. "I won't ruin you."

Paul huffs out a laugh. "Henry, you can hardly ruin me." Again he adjusts his stance, legs spreading to gain some balance back. He'll need it when the flogger hits.

Henry shakes the falls out, chuckling. "That's the fucking truth."

The flogger comes down with a dull thwap, heavy buffalo hide falls landing evenly across Paul's shoulders. It's a medium strength blow, harder than a warm up, but to Paul's already singing nerves it won't be too much.

Paul grunts at the initial hit, shoulders tensing, but as the pain slides away to tingling pleasure the grunt becomes a moan. It's easier pain this time, far from the first beating. Now that he has adrenaline and arousal on his side, it's much better.

"Good hmmm? Harder?" Henry swipes the flogger over Paul again.

"A little." Paul's arms tremble, the sound of the chain shaking as he twists his wrists loud in the room. The burn is incredible, something that seeps deep under his skin.

Henry nods and gives the flogger a shake to straighten it. "Sets of ten." He shrugs his shoulders, focusing on Paul's back for a moment and then begins. The blow lands perfectly over one shoulder, angled to drag off spin and repeat on the opposing side. Henry doesn't pause, just brings the flogger back around again, a figure eight motion that has the blows landing in a steady thwap thwap thwap.

The first two slaps across his shoulders feel harsh, but with the steady rhythm comes the familiar warmth and pleasant buzz. Paul's body begins to relax to it, no longer tensing when the flogger's tails hit his skin.

Pausing after the first set, Henry stands, arm lax at his side, enjoying his own buzz as he settles into top space. Paul's breathing is only slightly faster than normal, his skin glowing pink. "Again," Henry murmurs, and the big man barely twitches.

There's no clench of muscle as Henry brings the flogger down for the next round, only a low exhale of breath. Henry is careful to keep the blows light enough to let Paul ride it out. They're both enjoying this too much to push anything too heavy.

It's the only thing that is keeping Paul's cock hard, but it's doing a great job. By the end of Henry's next round, Paul is slick, pearly white drops sliding down his shaft.

Henry takes another break, letting them both settle for a moment. Gently, he runs a hand up Paul's spine, fingers curling into sweat damp hair at his nape. "How much do you want?"

If he had his way? Paul could carry on forever. It's a constant burn, no harsh pain, nothing that is ever not enough. Henry is perfect at keeping every blow the same strength and it's that professionalism that makes this work. "Two more sets," he murmurs, voice sounding as distant as his head is feeling.

"You look damn good," Henry murmurs back, teeth nipping at corded muscle before he steps away. Two more sets is nothing, over too quick to really enjoy. But Henry isn't about to push Paul. It's enough to have him here like this, enjoying the hurt that Henry is giving him. His skin is flushed red now, puffy in a few places where a fall has caught it repeatedly.

With the last blow done, Henry puts the flogger away, circling Paul slowly as he comes back. "The pain is good, hmmm?"

The pain is hard to describe. The feeling even harder. "It's good," Paul simply agrees, not bothering to find the right words. Henry knows him well enough not to have to ask again.

It's more than enough. Henry doesn't need eloquence. No, what he's looking for is in the bright gleam of Paul's eyes, the restless shift of his hips. Henry touches Paul's shoulder. "I'd leave you strung up and fuck you..." It's an offer and a question.

An offer that Paul can't turn down. He's on a high and if they move from this spot, Paul's afraid it might disappear in an instance. Start it, finish it, then find reality again. "Uh huh."

The touch is a caress now, a slow trail of fingers across and then down Paul's spine. The other man is a good deal taller than Henry but the logistics isn't a problem for what Henry has in mind. He moves behind Paul, getting the necessary supplies. Anticipation prickles through him, arousal filling his cock completely, throbbing as it peeks out the fly of his boxers.

With his eyes closed, each touch re-ignites the throbbing burn that Paul has discovered he thrives off of. When he feels the matching burn of Henry's cock brush the back of his thigh, a rogue moan escapes. Ready.

Henry swipes his tongue over salty skin, teeth grazing at the end of the lick. "Want?"

Shoulderblade twitching in response, Paul makes it perfectly clear. "Yes."

Slick fingertips smear down Paul's crease. "Widen your stance."

Paul's pucker flutters in anticipation, air ghosting over it as he spreads his legs, sinking down as far as the chains will allow.

It's enough for Henry. Teasing the gel over and past the tight muscle, Henry kisses over Paul's back. Fuck but the bastard is tight. "Exhale."

A breath is taken, then released slowly. Paul feels Henry's fingertip enter him and huffs out a sigh as his body clamps down, massaging the intruder.

Henry waits a moment for Paul's body to relax before moving against the resistance. Rocking his fingers slightly, ever so tiny movements, he continues kissing over Paul's shoulder and back. "That's it. Let me in. Feels fucking good, hmmm?"

"Mmm..." Paul lets his head drop with the soft sound of agreement. It's easy to relax with Henry's lips on him. They should always be on him, Paul decides distantly. He feels Henry's finger slide deeper and brush against his sweet spot, a move that sends a ripple up Paul's spine and vibrates against Henry's lips.

"There we go." Henry purrs, second finger sliding around the ring of muscle, teasing Paul open. It doesn't take much, Paul exhales and takes it willingly enough.

Eyelashes flutter and a small hitch in breath betrays Paul's discomfort, brief though it is. There's only a slight burn, but his cheeks are flushed, freckles standing out on usually pale skin. "Damn, your fingers feel good."

Henry nods. "I have something that will feel even better."

"I'm ready for it," Paul murmurs.

Henry pulls his fingers free and pats Paul on the hip. "Slut?" Grinning, he rolls the condom in place and spreads on a thick layer of gel.

Paul listens to the slick sound of the latex and snorts. "Shut up, I won't be in the mood for it if you hang around any longer."

"If I hang around?" Henry snorts. "You're the fucker hanging here, Paul." He spreads Paul's cheeks with one hand. The vibrator slips past the rings of muscle without much difficulty, the slender width less than Henry's two fingers had been.

The witty remark comeback is lost behind a curious moan. Paul was expecting Henry's cock, of course he was. The cool, hard object feels so strange, so foreign and oddly small, giving Paul a strangely sensitive sensation. It's shut his mouth, that's for certain.

Henry grins, tilting his head to better see Paul's face. He slowly teases the vibe in and out, a scant inch deeper with every push into Paul's body.

He's highly sensitive after the previous stimulation, for some unknown reason that Paul can't understand. The combination of the beating and finger fucking creating and maintaining the adrenaline that is pumping through his veins. "Fuck Henry," he gasps, and yes Henry is a devil.

"Fuck Paul," Henry purrs back, voice thick with lust and want and unnamed things that he's not about to try with Paul. He gives the vibrator a push, that last little bit sinking in until the flared base meets Paul's ass. "Ready for more?" Of course, there's always more to offer.

Whatever the 'more' is, Paul wants it. Greedy? Why yes, and he's allowed to be. His muscles tighten and release around the small vibrator, but it's Henry's hand that stops it from slipping out. "Mmhmm."

Knowing that this is likely to get a reaction, Henry leans a shoulder against Paul, not pushing forward against him, but ready to brace the man if need be. "More then," he murmurs, thumb flicking the switch on the vibrator to low.

Paul tenses suddenly and sucks in a breath as the humming buzz goes right up his spine. It reaches the base of his neck and he gives his head a shake, shoulders scrunching up in a shiver.

Henry pulls the vibe out, teasing at the ring of muscle before slowly pushing it back into Paul's ass. "How's that, hmmm?"

"Fuck." Another shudder, this one full body.

"You realize this is on the lowest setting, Paul? What are you going to do if I turn it up, hmmm?" Henry taps the button as he asks.

A creative curse only makes Henry smile. Paul sends him a glare from the corner of his eye and tries to keep his body under control, but the wicked little vibrator in Henry's hands is hitting all of his buttons. "You'd be the same if you had a stiffy like mine."

"Maybe," Henry agrees easily enough. After all, he's not the one chained to the ceiling and being teased to death. "I could do something about that for you if you'd like."

"Which, in Henry-speak, means slap a cock ring on me and torture me until I'm begging for it," Paul smarts back, a little breathless.

Henry can't help but laugh. "Would that work for you?"

"No." Which in Paul-speak means 'fuck you'.

The soft touches Henry offers are wordless apology. "I could give you my mouth." Henry kisses Paul's shoulder with the suggestion.

Both Paul's eyebrow and his cock lift at that suggestion. It's not something Henry offers often, if at all and when he gives his answer, Paul has even more trouble keeping his voice steady. "Christ, yes, but if you're joking with me..."

"I wouldn't fuck with you about that." Henry slips to Paul's front, one hand still working the vibrator slowly in and out, even as he goes to his knees.

A strained sound comes from Paul's throat as his eyes follow him. Henry on his knees, that's not something you see everyday. Already Paul can feel the surge in his dick, the pulse of blood to the head as it hovers inches away from Henry's lips. Or it could just be the vibrator that is doing that.

Henry smirks, leaning forward to lick the moisture gathering in the slit. "Mmmmm."

"Oh..." A knee-jerk reaction, Paul's hips push forward, cock head slip-sliding over Henry's mouth. Chin tucked to chest as he watches, he wonders if Henry would mind if he accidentally came over his face.

Henry chuckles, shifting his positioning until he can comfortably fuck Paul with the vibe and suck him off at the same time. Hand wrapped around the base of Paul's cock, Henry sucks the tip of his cock in, tongue curling around the sensitive glans to press it against the palet of his mouth.

It vibrates as Paul moans, his eyes fluttering shut. He tries to keep them open, wanting to watch Henry, but the pleasure that Henry's tongue is giving his cock and the constant tingling buzz from the vibrator is making it very hard to keep in control. Each slow thrust of the vibrator makes Paul's cock pulse, the swell echoing in his belly.

"Nnnnnn," Henry hums, lips meeting his closed fist. He pumps Paul's shaft as he pulls back, sucking and jerking him off slightly faster than the slow fuck of the toy in and out of Paul's ass.

How Henry can multitask near perfectly, Paul will never know. His fists clench tightly above the cuffs, straining against them. When Henry had told him to widen his stance, Paul hadn't thought it would be doing this. It seems to make each thrust, each suck, ten times more intense. Proven when his hips start meeting Henry's movements, rocking between them.

Henry doesn't mind the motion. It throws his timing a bit, but nothing worse than that; his hand at the base of Paul's prick keeps the movements from choking him. It's flattering, and a real treat to have Paul coming apart like this.

Hell, it's all Henry's doing. Everything from the stuttery breaths to the clenching abs as Paul tenses his body, knees bent slightly and thighs straining against the pleasure. He doesn't need the highest speed on the vibrator, or the roughest jerk to get him off. It's all about sensuality and it's that that makes his hips snap tight sending the first warm pulse over Henry's tongue.

Fuck yeah. Henry swallows everything Paul has to offer. His fingers at Paul's ass simply hold the vibe in place against the violent clenching that slowly fade into the aftershocks. Gently, he eases it free, licking Paul's cock clean with slow swipes of his tongue.

Paul's wrists take his weight as he sags in the chains, breathing laboured. Henry has just blown his mind and his cock and still a few trembles ripple through his body.

Under normal circumstances, Paul is a damn attractive man. At this moment, shaken, gasping for breath, Paul is fucking devastating. Henry's knees bitch as he's standing back up, reminding him that he's not young enough to be doing shit like this anymore. It's worth every ache though.

"I know you're wiped, but try not be a complete pussy here," Henry cajoles, leaning against Paul to support him while he unclasps the cuffs.

Paul finds a hold on the firm shoulders. Ice blue eyes that are dark with lust focus on Henry, a lazy smile creasing his face. "Fuck you too."

Henry laughs, bracing as the dead weight of Paul's arms hits him. "Maybe next time."

Grunting in agreement, Paul rests his forehead against Henry's hair. It's a bloody odd feeling; his legs, though having taken his weight for most of the play, are now like jelly, neither wanting to hold him up anymore. "Fuck I need a smoke."

Paul invites Ian round for Halloween

emachi@gmail.com — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 16:16:26 GMT

[Took place at Halloween]

The pumpkin looks like Henry Rollins on a bad day. A very bad day.

It sits on the front step of his house. He always celebrates Halloween when it comes around each year. Call him old, but it's fun to scare the children when they come bouncing around knocking on the door. It appeals to Paul's humour, especially when he sprays silly string through the letterbox, covering them head to toe. Very funny.

Incredibly more so when he opens the door to find Ian there with silly string covering his crotch area.

Opening the door wide, Paul openly appraises Ian's colourful trousers. "Ooh, my treat."

"I will of course be sending you my cleaning bill," Ian remarks dryly. "Really Paul, how old are you?"

"Not my fault that you're taller than a lot of kids," Paul shrugs and steps back. "Come on in, I'll fix some tea and pick that stuff off, it doesn't stain or anything."

"It may have escaped your notice but I am not a kid," Ian rolls his eyes and follows Paul in, his lips twitching. "I am a venerable knight of the British theatre."

"Which turns you into a ratty, boring old fart." Paul fills the kettle and puts it on, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and some teabags.

"A ratty boring old fart with a cock the size that brings tears to your eyes young man," Ian retorts.

Paul grins, unable to deny it. "You make it sound as if I only like you for your dick." As they wait for the water to boil, Paul carefully plucks off the remains of the string that has attached itself to Ian's trousers and his fingertips stroke over more than they should.

"You just called me a ratty, boring old fart and now you're stroking my cock, really Paul," Ian bats his hand away.

The string is off now, so Paul doesn't try again. He stops by the bin and dumps the string in then turns to lean on the counter, stretching out all six foot three inches of his frame. "So tell me, what's been going on with you lately?"

"Oh this and that," Ian smiles. "Playing with a rather delectable boy I found in LA, some stuff for Stonewall and lots of meetings about The Hobbit," he look at Paul enquiringly. "And what about you?"

"Ah, The Hobbit, I knew there was this big thing coming up. Bet you're looking forward to seeing New Zealand again." Ian's looking good too. Healthy and fit with a bit of a tan. Positively yummy, and Paul smiles back. "I've been good, getting ready for a whole lot of press junkets and interviews, which I'm not looking forward to."

"Oh it's never as bad as one thinks it's going to be," Ian thinks the anticipation is far worse than actually doing the deed. "I always find once you hop on the merry-go-round, it's not so bad," he nods. "And yes, I am looking forward to going back to New Zealand and working with Guilermo del Toro."

"Guilermo?" Paul's eyebrows go up, a little in surprise. "Is Peter Jackson not directing it?" Though damn, if Guilermo is taking it on it should be equally as good, if not better.

"Nope Peter isn't even producing as far as I can tell, and yes, it's very exciting, Guillermo is one of the most exciting directors around. I loved Hell Boy," Ian looks faintly embarrassed.

Of course Paul notices and he grins, finding it both cute and amusing. "I can't say I've seen it yet. You're really looking forward to working with him aren't you?" He pokes again, grin getting wider.

"I have a non sexual schoolboy crush on him," Ian confesses. "He's what the younger generation would term ... cool," he holds his hands up. "It's a fair cop, guv, you got me bang to rights."

"Now that's sweet." The kettle starts boiling and Paul goes to turn it off, filling up their mugs. "Just don't let it interfere with your work, yes?" He adds in jest.

"Me?" Ian grins. "I am far too professional to do such a thing, besides the set will be teaming with young men only too happy to climb into the pants of an elderly wizard," he winks.

Paul laughs heartily and finishes off making the tea before handing Ian his steaming mug. "Because they've all heard about the magnificent... talents of Sir Ian McKellen. People will see queues forming outside your trailer and wonder what is going on. Or would you insist on an orgy?"

"Oh one at a time culminating in a huge orgy," Ian doesn't even hesitate. "I would insist on personally examining the merchandise first, then I'd set it free to go whither it wanted."

Paul can picture the scene easily. Happy naked boys bouncing around, cocks swinging freely while Ian leans over another on a bed. By the happy moans, they're all having a very good time. "Let's sit down," he gestures toward the living room and leads the way through, settling on one end of the sofa. "I'm almost jealous. The flies on the walls must love you."

Ian grins. "Oh I'm sure they do, but what about you dear boy, what gives? What have you been up to?"

"Well, like I said, just getting ready for the press marathon for The Secret Life of Bees. That and I've recently met a charming young man," Paul smiles behind his tea, takes a sip. "He was my slave for a day at the Halloween party."

"Excellent!" Ian rubs his hands together. "Are you going to tell me all?"

"No wonder you have such a dirty mind, what with everyone telling you all their sordid stories," Paul snorts out a chuckle. He doesn't expect anything less from Ian. The man's joy for sex never fails to bring a smile to Paul's face. "He's lovely actually. New to the scene, so I took him under my wing and introduced him to a few things. He just wanted to wear a slave costume for the party."

"Oh you did did you," Ian's eyebrow arches delicately. "And what few things were they then, pray tell," the joys of a kink virgin can seldom be bettered.

Paul grins, clearly enjoying this. "Oh they were just little things I assure you; like light flogging, cock and ball torture, bondage... He was delightful, and has a cock that almost rivals yours."

"Harrumph."

"Oh come now, I said almost." Paul reaches over and pats Ian on the knee. "Nothing can compare to your mighty trunk."

"That's more like it," Ian grins. "So this boy, you seeing him again?"

"I sent him on his way to enjoy the wide world, so he's probably off somewhere with a nice dom getting his back whipped and his cock wrung. Do I need to give him your number?" Sinking back further into the sofa, Paul pops his feet up on the coffee table.

"I've got enough on my hands at the moment," Ian grins. "I have been indulging in a little cock and ball torture of my own," he thinks of Patrick and despite himself, his cock twitches.

Both of Paul's eyebrows go up and he leans forward. "Oh really? Go on then, dish out all the good stuff."

"No names, no packdrill," Ian doesn't believe in kissing and telling. "But he's a charming person who is capable of taking more than I thought possible," somehow it feels wrong to be saying too much lest the universe hear.

A touch disappointed, Paul slouches back in the seat. "Spoilsport. Do I know him?"

"I doubt it," Ian grins, finishing his tea.

"Now you're just being mean," Paul puts on a pout though his eyes are twinkling, clearly not upset in the slightest. "I need to put a face to this body I imagine you with." He sets his own mug down and leans toward Ian, prowling over and closing the gap between them.

"Mean? Me?" Ian grins, seeing the twinkle. "I think you need to come a bit closer because I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

Paul certainly does, moving closer until he's practically in Ian's lap. "This better?" He asks, close enough that Ian can feel the breath on his lips.

"It certainly is, though were there less fabric between us," Ian leans in to nip at Paul's lower lip.

"Now you're just making me do all the work," Paul retorts, though it isn't much of a complaint as he straddles Ian's hips and pulls off his own t-shirt then plucks Ian's off.

"I am," Ian inclines his head and licks one pert nipple. "It's my prerogative."

"Mm... and it's my nipple." Paul shivers and watches Ian enjoy himself. His chest is sensitive and the already hard buds become flush with colour. "They've been missing you."

"Just them or the rest of you?" Ian looks up, noting Paul's heightened colour.

Paul drops a kiss on his forehead and slides his hands over Ian's shoulders, tickling the light dusting of hairs. "All of me. Hell, even the damn sofa has been missing your arse."

Only Paul, Ian reflects and chuckles. "Even the sofa eh?" his own hands are roaming over Paul's back. "You know, if we're going to do this," he grins, if? "In deference to my poor old bones, let's take it somewhere more comfortable or at the very least, there should be less clothes."

"Poor old bones and a poor old boner that's just drooling for me, hmm?" Paul slips out of his lap and offers Ian a hand up. "Knowing me I'll probably end up in a scooter, shaking my walking stick at the young whippersnappers when they steal my cap."

Ian laughs. "I find that very difficult to picture," taking Paul's hand and standing. "You'll be the coolest old man on the block."

"You think so?" Paul leads the way through to the bedroom, though Ian could probably do it with his eyes closed. "I'll certainly be the rattiest." Keeping a hold of Ian's hand, he climbs on the bed and pulls him down with him, lips seeking out another kiss.

Whatever Ian might be about to say has to wait until he's obliged, till he's has stilled Paul's mouth with a kiss, or it might be vice versa. Ian realises he's thinking in Shakespeare quotes which might be worthy of mentioning to his shrink, and in the absence of a shrink then possibly his barber. But then all those thoughts are lost in the surprising softness of Paul's very talented mouth.

To say Paul's a sensualist is quite possibly a horrific understatement. Even if their trousers have yet to come off, his hands are all over Ian, fingers kneading like a cat sharpening its claws. The kiss is slow, easy, the type that you indulge in when you have all the time in the world.

Paul's enthusiasm is contagious and Ian finds himself responding in kind, his own hands roaming over Paul, fingers running up and down his back, his spine.

"Mm..." Paul's body presses closer, but not before he's slipped his hands between them to undo Ian's fly and popped the button open. "Ought to get rid of these, hmm?" He mouths against Ian's lips.

"Best idea you've had all night boy," Ian grins. "You up to undressing me?"

"Seems a shame to wait," Paul replies, mirroring the grin. He tugs Ian's trousers and underpants down over his arse then gently pushes him onto his back to tug them down to his feet. The shoes, socks and trousers come off together and are popped on the floor. Now Paul can admire other things and he can't resist a greedy lick to Ian's cock.

"I would have thought you'd have got used to my magnificent member," Ian laughs. "Now decide, where would you like it, down your throat or in your arse?" He leans back on his elbows and waits for Paul's decision.

The answer comes when Paul kneels back up and undoes his own trousers. He's commando as always and toes the socks off with the trousers. "Hands and knees like usual?" Paul asks, reaching into the bedside table drawer and recovering a condom and lube.

"I'd like to see you ride my cock," Ian says, a thoughtful expression on his face. "If that suits you, I'd like to see your face when you come too now that I think of it."

"If you can see me all the way up here, what with being so bloody tall," Paul mutters. Flicking the cap from the lube, he opens himself up with one, then two fingers and when Ian's gaze is drawn between his legs Paul smiles.

Settling himself more comfortably, Ian is happy to watch the show. Paul prepping is a beautiful sight, yes he's tall but he's graceful too, wears it well and with elegance. Ian grins. "Tall and handsome," he corrects.

Paul chuckles and slides his fingers out, "Flattery will get you everywhere." He tears open the foil packet and rolls the extra large condom over Ian's cock then kneels over him, hand wrapped around the base as he works it in. "A huge dick will get you further."

"I should think so too," Ian grins, a smile that turns into a grimace as Paul man handles him with great dexterity.

It takes some patience and careful teasing, Paul going at his own pace and comfort level. When he feels his arse touch his hand he pulls it away and slowly sinks down the last inch, hands on Ian's chest.

Letting out the breath he's been holding Ian places his hands on Paul's slim hips. "I do like to watch a boy who's full of cock," he grins.

Paul gives him an affectionate smile and wiggles on his perch, fluttering his pucker around Ian's meat.

"Get on with it," Ian is smiling though, he wraps his hands around Paul's cock. "I'm far too old to be hanging on to my orgasm while you play hard to get."

"Aw, come now Ian, let me have my fun," Paul pouts, but he gives Ian what he wants, thighs working as he fucks himself on his cock. It certainly makes Paul vocal, moaning as it goes deep.

Paul's body, so long and lean, folds up surprisingly small, compact even and Ian thoroughly enjoys the show, he enjoys Paul's noises, his enthusiasm and he enjoys that tightness gripping his cock. "This," he is breathless. "Is more my idea of fun."

"A-ha?" Freckles standing out on his face as it heats up, that's all Paul can say. He moves his hands from Ian's chest to the pillow, leaning forward so he has more leverage between Ian's cock and his palm. That's much better and Paul's back undulates as he increases the pace, groan rumbling out as a purr.

"God you really look good," Ian twists Paul's cock, rubbing his thumb over the head. "You're flushed," such pale skin, now a becoming shade of pink. "Beginning to heat up aren't you," it's not a question.

"God..." Paul's movements stutter and his hips jerk forward, cock leaving a shiny trail over Ian's fingers. "Well I am the one doing all the work," he gasps out, lips quirking in a smile. It only takes a moment to find the rhythm again and Paul drops his chin to his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

"Because you're such a good boy," Ian grins and flexes his hips up hard.

Paul grunts, a shudder working through his limbs. His arse tightens, clenches around the thick length inside him and a small pulse of pre-come drips onto Ian's belly. "Christ." With Ian's hand on him, stroking him through, it's not long before Paul's gut tightens and he comes, face pink.

"I hope you don't think you're stopping yet," Ian remarks. "Keep going," he helps Paul along by holding him tighter and moving steadily, flexing his hips up, knowing how sensitive Paul's arse is going to be.

Panting, Paul gives him a breathless chuckle. "C'mon old man, stuff me full with it." His voice trembles with unrestrained pleasure. He regrets teasing him as soon as he says it, however, when the sharp sensations from Ian's fucking spread through him and he squirms uncomfortably.

"Really Paul," Ian's voice has the merest tremor in it. "Try for a little finesse, stuff me full with it?" he grins as he thrusts harder then harder still.

Fuck finesse. Paul's hunched over body shaking with each thrust and it's about as easy to speak as it is for a man in 40C below. He'd give a blowjob to anyone who could speak eloquently while being fucked by an eight inch cock. Paul leans down and rests his head against Ian's shoulder, while his hands grab the pillow and threaten to turn it into a feather duster.

"I wouldn't have thought," Ian remarks, still fucking Paul hard. "That pillow has done you any harm," his orgasm is nearer than Paul thinks but he's not letting on. He imagines Paul feels like his arse is on fire right now.

It is, thanks for Ian asking. Paul rethinks his predicament, takes into account the poor pillow and his poor arse. Then, he turns his head and nips Ian's ear instead, sucking on the lobe. There, Ian can't say that he's not done Paul any harm.

Groaning, Ian's orgasm is close, very close. There are little bruises on Paul's pale skin, perfect replications of Ian's fingertips. "Do that again," he half hisses.

Paul obliges eagerly, nipping at the flesh made moist by his rapid breaths. The bruises will last a while; Paul marks easily, which has always been a quality that Ian has liked. Must be why he enjoys spanking him so much.

Perfect and just what Ian needs to orgasm, jerking up into Paul's body as hard as he can as he cock pulses and he feels the come leaving his body.

"GNNNH!" Paul's usually quiet. Usually. Except when Ian does that, the hard thrust that makes Paul shudder and bite down on Ian's ear harder than he would if he were in control.

"Ouch," Ian murmurs and has an overwhelming urge to laugh. He doesn't. Holds Paul steady as the aftershocks die away, leaving him feeling replete.

"'Orry." Carefully Paul lets go and grins against Ian's jaw. Not sorry in the slightest. Before Ian can make him shake anymore, Paul lifts his arse up a touch, lets Ian slide out, and settles back down again.

"That was good," Ian doesn't move, wraps his arms around Paul's waist, leaning against him. "Very good actually."

Paul chuckles and presses a light kiss to Ian's cheek. He enjoys these moments just as much as he enjoys the fuck itself. It's hard to resist the craving for a cigarette though. "Better than spanking?" He asks to take his mind off it.

"Can't compare the two," Ian grins. "Both good, just different."

"Except the fact that they both bugger the hell out of me," Paul retorts light heartedly. He rolls to Ian's side so he can breath and reaches down to the condom still on Ian's cock. "Here, let me get that."

"Why thank you," Ian sighs. "I must say you have an arse made to be fucked," he yawns. "I might even do it again after I've had forty winks."

The condom is left on the bedside table. Paul will clean it up afterwards, but right now he shows no subtlety in enjoying Ian's presence, laying close beside him. "Mm, I'm sure your cock will wake us up when it's time for round two."

Paul and a friend introduce Henry to suspension

emachi@gmail.com — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 22:08:53 GMT

[Warnings for suspension with hooks]

Introductions have been made and a quick lesson in suspension technique given. Henry settles in his seat and watches as Paul's friend, Dave Roberts checks the rig one more time. The man is nothing if not thorough, something that Henry appreciates. It's something that is necessary in a scene of this magnitude.

Paul and Henry had discussed the scene over the phone, and discussed it again in person when Henry had arrived two days before. The boundaries for Henry's participation talked over in intimate detail.

Henry gives Paul a crooked smile. "Thank you again, for trusting me with this."

Paul smiles back at him as he looks over the hooks, double checking that they're the right gauge. "You're very welcome. It's nice to be able to prove to you that I'm not a stuck up English Toff."

"More like you're hung up on proving yourself, and this, by the way, will do nothing to further your case," Henry retorts playfully. He enjoys the banter he has with the other top a great deal. That the man is gorgeous as fuck and an unbelievable flirt is icing.

"Well I'm certainly hung, thanks for noticing," Paul comments back, and Dave snorts at that as he listens in.

"Y'know, with all the tattoos you've got," Dave tells Henry, "I was fucking surprised to hear that you hadn't done any piercing."

Paul's laugh bounces off the walls of the small room. "Oh don't, we've already had that conversation."

Henry's attention is drawn to the methodical preparations Dave is making. "I'm good with the holes I was designed with, fuck you very much," he tells the man cheerfully.

Dave grins and gives the rigging a test, making sure it goes up and down smoothly as he turns the crank. "You can hop up on the table now, I'm about ready" he tells Paul, going to put on a pair of gloves.

Paul gives him a nod and moves towards it, taking off his shirt and trousers until he's standing there is just his boxer briefs. "You'll want to come closer for this," he says, and gestures at Henry. "Dave's going to show you how to put the hooks in." He lays down on his front and hisses when his nipples touch the cold surface. "Bloody hell, I thought you were going to warm this up for me this time?"

"The man's obviously a sadist, Paul. What did you expect?" Henry teases, stepping close enough to view the proceedings.

"Mm, yes. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to oblige if I asked him to sew your lips together," Paul taunts. He folds his arms over each other and rests his cheek on them, facing Henry.

Henry shakes his head, "Hard limit." With fascination, he eyes the heavy gauge hooks as David picks them up. Not his kink, no, but Henry is, above all else, a voyeur.

Dave hands him a box of latex gloves. "Pop a pair of those on." He gets a small bottle of alcohol and swabs a cotton wool bud then dabs it over Paul's back. All over.

Quietly, Henry takes a pair of gloves out and works them over his hands. They'd discussed this too, he and Paul, the possibility that he'd participate depending on Dave's comfort level and his own. Henry's breath isn't quite steady. He's not sure about how he feels yet.

With Paul's back swabbed and glistening tan, Dave picks up the first hook and pinches about an inch of skin just below Paul's shoulderblade. Holding it steady, he lines the pointed end of the hook against the skin and gives Paul a warning, time to relax. "Deep breath." The hook pierces the skin, glides easily through the length of the pinched area and pushes back through the other side in one fairly smooth motion. It's obvious that Dave has done this countless times.

It's also clear that Paul has done it more often that he sometimes lets on. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes tightly, teeth grabbing at his arm for a moment when the hook pierces him. It's always painful when the first hook goes in, especially considering he hasn't done it for a couple of years. When Paul's eyes open again though, they're bright and clear and ready for the next one.

There's no blood, no sound of pain from Paul. It's almost anti-climatic from Henry's perspective. He lets out a breath he'd not even intended to hold, dark eyes meeting Paul's and holding. There's a lot he'd ask here. How it feels, predominately, but he doesn't want to break the scene, either.

"You get used to it," Paul tells him, the grin that accompanies it telling Henry that the questions were written plain on his face.

Dave nods in agreement, having had his own fair share of suspensions and piercing, being impressively displayed in the array of balls and metal covering his face. "It's just like a larger version of a piercing needle. People will probably tell you that the pain is ten times worse, but you're essentially doing the same kind of piercing. These are actually on the smaller end of the scale for suspension hooks." He picks up a second one and holds it out for Henry to take and have a closer look at.

"What kind of rush do you get?" Henry asks, carefully turning the hook in his hand.

"Probably close to adrenaline, and the buzz from the pain," Paul replies. "It's not so much the immediate pain, but the afterburn like what I'm feeling now from the hook. Kinda makes me feel shivery."

Shivery. Henry grins and sets the hook down, eyes drawn to David's hands as he readies the next hook.

Dave pinches the next bit of skin several inches down from the first. "When you first press the hook through, you'll feel a bit of resistance from the skin like you would with any needle. I tell people it's like doing some sewing, you need a small bit of force to get the needle into the fabric, but once it's in it's a smooth pull out. Same here," he pushes the hook through the skin, showing Henry, "Push, easy through, and a little push back out."

Henry's fingers twitch, itching to touch. Again, not his kink, but Paul's reactions to the hooks have him transfixed. "Are you avoiding previous scars?"

"No, if anything going through those would be less painful. If they're old enough they're numb to it, though you'd still feel the pain when the hook goes through the layers of skin beneath." Dave lays the pierced hook on Paul's back and reaches for the third.

As that slides in, Paul makes a rather deep teeth indent on his hand. When it's done and one half of his back is pierced, he lets out a deep breath and settles with the afterburn of the pain, the shivery sensation that seeps through his body. The next thing Dave says, however, makes him chuckle.

"Your turn."

Hands clenching, Henry looks askance at Paul. "Are you okay with this?"

Paul looks up at him and smiles, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "You can't be any worse than Dave. Yeah I'm okay, he's a very good teacher."

The man in question gestures at Henry, eager to show him his craft. "You can do the one just below his shoulder, there's not much you can do wrong with one that high up."

Henry picks up the metal hook and positions it against pinched skin just as Dave had done. "Push, easy push, push back out?"

"Yeah, try not to stop half way through, that will hurt."

"Steady," Henry nods. "Breathe," he says, reminding them both as he pushes the metal hook through in one smooth motion. It's not as straight as the ones Dave had completed, but not bad either. Henry touches the hook gently, admiring his handiwork.

Dave grins and checks the hook to see if it's going to be secure and alright. "Good job, you'd be good at this if you ever decided you liked it. Steady hands." He runs the tip of his finger over the bump of skin that covers the hook and Paul trembles, more than just a shiver. "You can touch," Dave encourages Henry.

"I'd like to do another," Henry says, fingertips barely making connection with pierced skin.

"Okay, do it in line with that one," Dave point to the next one down on the left side of Paul's back and hands him another hook. He pinches a sizeable bit of skin and waits until Henry has got it before letting go. "Be more careful with this one and don't go too shallow or the skin will tear when we lift him."

Henry listens, fingers adjusting the fold of skin. "The last was deep enough?"

Dave nods, looking back at it. "It's hard to tell if you've never done it before. It's kinda knowing how thick the skin is and making sure you get the balance is between too deep and too shallow. 'Course it also depends on the size of the hook."

Paul remains quiet as they talk. He's pleased that Henry is so curious about this and not too afraid of giving it a go. Henry is also sexual, whereas Dave is not. Not when he's suspending someone. It's like a job to him, and you don't fool around when working. Henry should have fun though.

The hook slides through Paul's skin and Henry releases the fold. "These aren't as heavy a gauge as I'd expected," he murmurs, stroking down Paul's spine.

Paul purrs, a soft wordless sound of enjoyment.

"They don't have to be huge. You've probably seen bigger ones in the pictures of the hardcore guys. This is about the second smallest you can go while taking Paul's weight into account and his pain threshold. I doubt you'd let me use anything larger on you, right?"

"Yeah," Paul answers. "Depends on the type of suspension too though. We used bigger ones when we did the shoulder one."

Four more hooks are inserted through the skin on his legs, two in his calves and the other two at the base of the boxer briefs. Then Dave changes gloves and double checks each hook one more time before moving the rigging down a little so the carabiner clasps are resting on Paul's back. "Oh yeah, we did one with four hooks in right up here," he draws an invisible circle around Paul's shoulder blades. "Did like a crucifix suspension."

"The demonstration we went to was shoulders and I think hardcore is a good description," Henry agrees. He scoots to the side so he's out of Dave's way, standing by Paul's head now. Removing the gloves, he gently ruffles his fingers into Paul's hair. It's odd for him, because he'd honestly expected Paul to be in some sort of headspace by now.

The carabiner clasps are each snapped onto the rings at the end of hook. Dave takes care not to pull Paul's skin too much - which seems weird considering it's going to be pulled a whole lot in a minute - but Paul appreciates it. Dave retreats to the crank and turns it several times until the rig pulls the ropes taut, just before they start pulling skin. "Okay, ready Paul?"

"Mmhm." Paul slows his breathing down to long deep breaths, still not moving.

"Don't put any extra weight on him," Dave warns Henry, and he starts raising the rigging, the hooks gradually pulling Paul's skin upward.

It's freakish, the lift of skin with the hooks, stretching until it pulls taut and Paul begins to rise. Henry still finds some fascination in the act, especially in the myriad expressions that pass over Paul's features.

It's mostly pain etched with concentration. Paul keeps his arms folded and when he's several inches off the table, Dave tells Henry to move the table out of the way.

It rolls easily under Henry's light push, leaving Paul hanging, dangling from the hooks.

"Does that feel okay, Paul?" Dave asks and waits for the yes from his friend before securing the crank in place. It takes a bit of getting used to; the weird sensation of Paul's skin being pulled coupled with the pain. It's not a burning pain anymore but a dull heavy throb from his skin where it's being stretched by his weight.

Slowly Paul unfolds his arms and relaxes them, wincing only slightly. "There you go," he finally says, smiling at Henry.

Paul's icy eyes have gone almost black, the pupils blown until only scarcely a hint of blue remains. Henry shivers, the effect of this man's submission a powerful experience. He smiles back, stepping closer and squatting down so Paul is hanging just above him. "Hurts?"

"A little," Paul admits, "though the piercing is the part that hurts like hell, this is just an ache compared to that. When we start moving while suspended, that's when it strains. I can think of so many artsy pictures you could do like this though." He reaches his hand out to Henry's and tugs it up when Henry gives it to him. "Feel the skin."

"I don't have on gloves," Henry warns.

"Don't touch the holes, just the skin," Paul clarifies. "It's sensitive."

Henry nods, touching as requested. The skin feels odd, softer and at the same time firmer from being stretched so far. "I can get my camera whenever you're ready," Henry whispers, awed by the moment.

Paul shivers at the touch and moans softly. It's almost as if he's drunk on something. Drunk, but still able to think and converse normally. Partly from the pain, partly from the adrenaline rush and partly from the sensitivity, he's buzzing. "I can't get into many positions like this, it's not a case of pulling one of the ropes to make it longer, Dave would have to detach the rope and put a longer one on."

"You're fine," Henry assures him, "just where you are." Skimming his hand down Paul's side, Henry stands up, darting a glance to Dave.

Dave looks back with a curious expression. "You want to get some pictures?"

"Yes. Paul and I had discussed it before." Henry picks up his coat and pulls a small digital from the pocket. "I can keep you out of the frame if it makes you uncomfortable," he offers.

Dave shrugs and steps out of the way. "I'm not fussed, but it would look better without a random guy in the background," he says and winks at Henry.

Not sure how Dave swings, Henry keeps his tone teasing, though there is little mistaking the interest in his gaze as he allows himself the pleasure of looking Dave over. Head to toe. "You look fine to me." Grinning, he turns the camera on Paul.

Paul snorts and rolls his eyes. "You're a slut."

Across the room Dave chuckles. He's straight, but comfortable with gay men checking him out. Well, he has to be with Paul as a friend. "No worse than you."

"Fine, this is the last time I let you at me," Paul throws back. It's said in jest and Paul grins as he puts on a little pose, one arm resting horizontal on an invisible surface, the other propped up on his elbow, chin in palm.

Henry captures that on camera, along with several other general, wide lens shots before he zooms in. "You know, you say it," he murmurs, going to one knee and canting the camera as he studies the screen, "like being a slut is a bad thing."

Paul watches him from over his arm, his position changing slightly all the time, but always staying relaxed. Something that particularly irritates Dave is that Paul looks handsome and brooding in every single effortless pose, and even when he stops posing and just watches Henry with an increasingly dark stare.

Turning his head, Henry catches the glint in Paul's eyes and smirks. "Hello, there," he practically purrs, leaning in and brushing a quick kiss over Paul's lips.

It may be quick, but Paul's lips are like fire, demanding on Henry's mouth. He likes having Henry watch him, likes that the suspension doesn't make him feel submissive at all. To Paul it's a bit of Gothic-type art combined with the rush of jumping out of an aeroplane and all the sensations he gets whilst up in the air are heightened, free.

Shit. Henry can't help the thrill of lust that shivers up his spine. Voice low, fingertips brushing along Paul's jawline, he asks, "Can I take some shots like this, your face in the frame?" Not his original intent. Seldom does Henry include more than a partial profile in his photographs, appreciating that anonymity is preferable to evidence.

If it was a picture of him doing some lewd thing with Henry's cock then no, but this? Paul has no problem with it. "Sure." He smiles at Henry with a look that clearly says 'I want to eat you up.'

Henry doesn't even bother with trying to frame the shots. Just clicks merrily away. He can edit later. Hell, he's not even paying any attention to the camera, too intent on watching the way Paul's eyes light and glow with lust. "Damn."

"Good?" Paul stretches his arms out in front of him and hisses when it pulls skin, but he never loses eye contact with the man behind the camera. He can still taste Henry on his lips and it's a taste he never wants to be rid of.

The grin on Henry's face says everything. Of course, he's never one for subtle. Why leave something to the imagination when you can just say it. "I'd cut your boxers off if I thought I could get away with it."

Paul chuckles and finally looks away, his eyes fluttering shut. He moves his arms outward slowly, as if in a mantra and curves his back, changing the tautness of the ropes. An image is in Paul's head; lighting, tone, colour, position and he's acting it out, seeing the beauty in his mind's eye.

"Your modesty is charming." Henry teases, but the telltale click of the camera gives him away. Holy fucking shit, Paul is beautiful.

"And you're enjoying it," Paul murmurs back, cracking one eye open to wink at him.

From behind Henry, Dave speaks up. "The ones that allow movement are much more fun. Once he gets going he really likes to play with those."

Henry sets the camera aside, freeing both hands to touch. "How so?"

"Well, think about it, it's like flying. You can have someone give you momentum and 'fly' around the room around the rigging. He's already done a few shoots with those."

It's odd, the way Paul's skin stretches up and away from his body, pulling against his weight. The thought of him flying that way even odder, but sexy in a perverse way. Henry's hands skim lower, lower still to hover at the waistband of Paul's boxers. "Adrenaline junkie?"

"Maybe," Paul purrs and his cock twitches, knowing where Henry's hand is going. "Or just afraid of heights."

"I could add to the thrill." Henry's fingers tease at the fly, just to the side of Paul's cock.

Paul huffs out a grunt and his hips hitch, pulling on skin.

"You want me to let him down so you two can fuck in peace?" Dave asks, not particularly wanting to watch them do anymore and yet unable to look away because he's responsible for Paul's safety.

And if Henry had wondered about Dave's sexuality...

"Not going to fuck him Dave," Henry grins, peeking around Paul's hip. "That would be awkward. You just stay right there and... try not to listen." Sadistic? Oh fuck yes.

Listen? Dave can SEE everything. He gives Henry a very undignified snort, "Fine, just make sure you clean up after yourselves... And don't think it's just because you're famous."

It's tempting to tell Dave that he'll swallow... but Henry isn't really that much of a bastard. At least not tonight. Henry kisses Paul's hip and adjusts his position so Dave isn't seeing much of anything as he draws Paul's cock through the y-front of the boxer briefs.

It's half hard and swells eagerly to Henry's touch. Paul should feel sorry for Dave at this point, but frankly his mind is on other things. Like Henry, and Henry's hand and Henry's finger doing that.

"Dave?" Henry hates to keep tormenting the guy, but he really needs to know, "How long do I have here?"

Pointedly looking at the wall just to the side of them, Dave shrugs. "Should probably think about getting him down in another five minutes."

That should work just fine. Henry closes his hands on Paul's cock and gives him a slow stroke, root to tip.

Paul's abs tighten and he rests his arms over his head, partly for comfort and partly to hide the involuntary twitch as he inhales. The combination of adrenaline from the hooks and pleasure from Henry is a potent mixture and it only takes two of those strokes to get him fully hard.

"That's it," Henry breathes, nipping at Paul's hip just above the underwear. He rubs his thumb over the soft glans. "Feels good, hmmm?"

"Hmm," Paul echoes in a deep rumbling purr. His cock wets Henry's pad with a small swell of pre-come and Paul rocks against the hooks a little, adding to the stimulation.

"Have you ever come like this?" Henry asks, taking the cue and moving his hand steadily.

After a moan, Paul admits, "No. To be honest I hadn't thought about doing it like this."

He's been with Paul enough times to know that the man likes his pleasure sharp and fast. Quickening his stroke, Henry looks Paul over. The skin around the hooks is swollen, and several punctures have begun to seep blood as Paul moves against them.

"Mm..." Paul reaches down to Henry's hand and follows it with his fingers, feeling it move over him. This must be what it feels like to be a cow being milked. Only far more intense. He drags in long ragged breaths and moves his hand back up to grip Henry's arm, a grip that gets tighter as he nears release.

Quietly, Henry tells him, "Just imagine. You're hooked like this... I could do anything." He squeezes his hand on the next upstroke.

That thought, Paul doesn't know why it affects him like it does, but as myriad images snap into his head like flashbacks, suddenly he's there. Paul's cock contracts and he grunts as his semen hits the floor, Henry stroking it out of him with force.

Henry stokes him through the orgasm, kissing where he can reach, side and shoulder. "Gorgeous," he whispers, reverence coloring the word. Paul shudders, hard and Henry eases up, just holding his cock lightly while the man catches his breath.

The world is an explosion of black and white when Paul opens his eyes. He turns his head to find Henry and blinks a few times to bring him slowly back into colour. "Feel like I can finally become a member of the Metre High Club now," he pants slowly.

It gets a grin and a chuckle from Henry. "Glad to have you flying with us." He kisses Paul again, slow and easy before he stands up.

"Shall we bring him down?" Henry asks Dave.

Dave nods and moves back to the crank. "Put his dick away and move the table back under him and I'll lower him down."

That would probably make sense. Who can blame Henry for being just a little distracted, though. He gets Paul tucked away with a gentle pat and then moves the table into place, locking the wheels as Dave starts lowering Paul.

It's a little painful, stinging when the skin is no longer being pulled and it settles back down, but Paul doesn't make a fuss. It feels somewhat nice to be back on solid ground, but at the same time rather sad, like when one reaches the ground after sky diving. You wish you were still up there feeling the rush and could go again.

Dave locks the crank in place and joins Henry at the table, detaching the carabiner clasps from the hooks.

"What do you usually do for aftercare," Henry asks, putting gloves back on so he can help.

"Bit of washing with luke warm water, other than that just let them heal. Obviously he shouldn't cover his back up for a while, but they should heal pretty quickly like any piercing." Dave gives Henry a pointed look, "and no sex right after, y'hear? Unless he's the one on top... wait, I did NOT want that image." Grumbling to himself, Dave slips into his own pair of gloves and carefully eases the hooks on his side out, starting with the ones on Paul's legs. "They should come out easily, just make sure you don't catch them on anything."

"I was thinking more like food or blankets," Henry says, pulling the first hook free. "Fuck that's a lot of blood." It really is, more than he'd expected and it makes his stomach knot up. He's not squeamish, but this is a hard limit; with or without gloves, crossing that line is outside his comfort zone.

Dave - who has worked with many different people with varying degrees of thresholds, notices Henry's reaction quickly, and he pauses and gestures behind the man. "Don't have to do it if you don't want to. In fact you can go and get some food for him if you want, there's some biscuits in one of the kitchen cupboards."

"I'll stay here," Henry answers, but he's taking the gloves off. "You can do the rest though, hmm?"

"Fine, just don't touch his back, okay?" Dave takes the rest of the hooks out and lays them on a small tray to be washed and sterilized later. He starts the massage then, working the air out of Paul's skin.

"Believe me," Henry steps to the top of the table, squatting to look Paul in the eyes. "Not touching."

When he sees movement in front of him, Paul looks up, a lazy interest sparkling in his gaze. "Hi." The massage feels fantastic and a soft purr escapes.

Henry smiles, brushing a thumb over Paul's lower lip. "Hi." He can hear the air hissing wetly from the wounds in Paul's back.

While Henry focuses on entertaining himself with Paul's mouth, Dave works Paul's back over. He kneads firmly, pressing all of the air out, grinning at the happy noises Paul makes. Taking some wet wipes out of an airtight bag, he starts cleaning away the blood, dabbing at the holes then wiping away the crimson trails.

"Dave is almost done," Henry tells Paul with a gentle nuzzle. "And then we'll get you a blanket and some water."

"Mm, don't need a blanket." Just as he says that, Paul shivers. "Okay, maybe I do."

Dave takes his time, as always wanting nothing less than perfection from a suspension. The blood gradually stops flowing and he disposes of the wipes in a separate bag. "All done." Normally he would look after Paul at this point, but since Henry is here, he figures he can clean the room up instead, but not without a quick check on his friend first. Pulling off the gloves, Dave rests his hand on Paul's shoulder to get his attention. "You okay?"

Paul's eyes flicker and he glances back and nods. "Yes, thanks for this."

Dave nods back in acknowledgment and pats him. "Anytime mate, was a pleasure as always." He looks to Henry with a last few notes for him. "You can use the spare bedroom, Paul knows where it is, he stays there when we do this. There's some blankets in the wardrobe in there."

"You can stay with us too... if you need to." Henry's not about to kick the guy out of his own scene. Understands how important it can be to reconnect when in top space.

Dave's done enough displays that he doesn't need to connect. He'd describe his position to be like that of a tattoo artist. He creates does his job, he does it well, and he's proud of the outcome and the customer goes home satisfied. If there's no one there with the customer then he will give the aftercare himself, but if there is someone who the customer would rather be with then he's more than happy to pass along the requirements and let them go away with smiles on their faces.

At Henry's comment, he pulls a face. "And watch you two making lovey dovey faces at each other? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Hey... I'd share him with you," Henry laughs.

Dave snorts, suitably not impressed. "I doubt my girlfriend would be happy if I came home tonight with stories about making out with Paul Bettany and Henry Rollins."

"Is she hot?" Henry's never aspired at playing couth.

"Hell yeah, makes me look forward to going home," Dave replies with a grin.

"Then don't waste your time with us, man, get your ass home where it belongs." And if Henry's not being couth, at least he had the sense to keep the offer for a foursome to himself.

Dave doesn't waste his time. After a final check on Paul and a shake of Henry's hand, he gathers up his bits and leaves.

"You'll fuck anything, won't you?" Comes Paul's amused comment when the door shuts.

"You gotta admit that Dave's easy on the eyes," Henry answers, stroking down Paul's side.

Paul shivers at the touch, another reason for a blanket as he leans into Henry. "Yeah, but I've never considered fucking him."

"Think we can move you?" Henry asks, dropping the subject of Dave. He's got more important things to think about. "Or do you want to hang out here for a little longer?"

A tug on Henry's arm is his answer. "Need to lay down." And cuddle with Henry, but Paul figures he already knows that.

"Well, let's get your ass up so we can lay down in a comfortable bed..." Henry helps Paul up, offering support under his arm and avoiding touching his back. "I'm assuming the biscuits are of the prissy British type?"

"They're the top notch quality biscuits that are the perfect addition to a mug of tea," Paul retorts, leaning on Henry as he leads him through to the guest bedroom. "You get in first," he tells him, and gives Henry a nudge towards the bed.

"Do you want water first?" Henry asks, thinking he's going to be there a while once Paul sprawls over him.

"Oh, yeah, but I can get that." Paul turns to go to the kitchen, but Henry stops him.

"No," Henry tells him firmly. "Aftercare, my friend, means I wait on you hand and foot. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Paul sighs, feeling perfectly capable of going to the kitchen and getting some water, but he doesn't argue. Arguing with Henry is like arguing with a brick wall, so he pulls back the bed covers and climbs under, resting on his front while Henry plays maid.

Not only does Henry return with water, since Paul is being so compliant, he takes the time and makes tea. It's just boiling water and soaking a tea bag, nothing so risky as to test his limited culinary skills.

"Who knew you could be such a docile boy," he grins, settling down on the edge of the bed after putting a tray on the bedside table. "How do you take your tea?"

Blue eyes focus on the tray and Paul smiles. "Who knew you could be such a good servant," he quips back. "One sugar and milk please."

"The depths of the things you have yet to discover about me," Henry replies sweetly. And if that sounds like a challenge? He's not opposed to taking things that direction with Paul in the least...

[Feedback adored and fed biscuits]

Paul and James bump into each other and it's napkins at ten paces

emachi@gmail.com — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 01:12:36 GMT

[Backdated to October 21st]

Tucked up in his coat, Paul walks down Oxford Street. It's around lunchtime and he's just doing a spot of window shopping before getting something to eat.

It's by chance that he glances up at the right moment and just catches a familiar face in the crowd as it goes by him. Immediately Paul turns on his heel to follow and increases his stride to catch up with him. James is oblivious still as Paul silently gets into step just behind him and leans in close so the man can hear.

"Hello wanker."

James turns, not recognizing the voice immediately. He definitely recognizes the man, though. Memories of playing Paul's asshole brother in 'Wimbledon' back in 2004 still make James laugh when he thinks of them. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't do autographs, ok?" James grins, knowing he isn't selling it, and not caring. "I'm a big star now, right, so I have to draw the line somewhere?" He loses it, laughing, and gives Paul a friendly punch on the shoulder.

Paul grins and claps him on the back before stuffing his hand back into his pocket. "Sure, wanker, just be sure to sign it with a big X so you don't strain yourself too much." He chuckles and bumps against James' shoulder, letting them walk on so they're not in the way. "I was just going to lunch, do you want to join me?"

"Sounds brilliant." James says, still grinning. "Just don't expect me to buy - I've not gotten my check from the 'Wanted' folks yet." Actually, he has, and the prospect of making a small fortune doing the sequels in all. James can still hardly believe it. "So, how are things? I hear you've been busy."

"Yes, and I'll be all over the place soon," Paul says. "Did I tell you I hate promotion? I hate promotion. Hate it. Do you hate it?"

"God, do I?" James says, making a sour face. "Feels like I'm running for office, or just being a rent boy for the producers. But that's part of the deal, right? My agent really gets up my nose sometimes, being so pushy about it. At least I can trust her motivation, though. She gets a slice of me, so of course she wants me to be successful." He smiles. "Listen to me, you'd think I was complaining about getting some success. My gran would slap me silly, I'm sure."

Paul chuckles, leading the way to his favourite haunt. "I'm sure your agent could stand in for her if you asked. Better her than me kicking your arse for beating me at tennis."

"Taken up the booze, have you?" James says. "I may look small, but I'm an action hero now - haven't you heard?" He pretends to look around. "Where's that stunt guy when I need him?"

"Who got to wrestle with Angelina Jolie," Paul adds, not making any attempt to hide his jealousy. "Did she slap you silly too?"

"She was completely into me, man." James says, not even managing a straight face. "I think Angie is into the tough love, though. She probably whips Brad's ass on a regular basis. Then again, who wouldn't want to do that."

Paul laughs outright at that and nods. Damn right. "Hell, I'd want her to whip my arse. Do you know if she likes tea?"

"Doesn't everyone like tea?" James says. "Then again, she is American, and they have some peculiar notions. I'll ask her the next time she shows up at my flat, wanting sex." This time he does manage a straight face.

"She probably likes iced tea, the devil. Do you have her number? Perhaps I should show her what real tea tastes like." Turning a corner, Paul walks a few feet down the road then turns into a cafe, holding the door open for James.

"Oh, of course I have her number." James says, stepping inside. "I don't need it, though, since she's desperate for me and rings me up all the time. Can't get anything done, for answering. I should tell Brad he needs to step up and keep her more busy."

Arching a brow, Paul shakes his head. "She needs a gag, or you do," he adds the latter under his breath with a little bump to James' shoulder. "Tea please, milk and sugar," he tells the sever behind the counter. "And my usual sandwich."

James bumps back, ordering likewise tea with milk and sugar, and a sausage sandwich. "I don't let just anyone gag me, Paul." He smirks. "You have to buy me a drink first, at least."

"Wow, I forgot how easy you were." Paul takes a seat at his favourite table and stretches his legs out comfortably. "Did you have time to play any while you were working?"

James snorts, shaking his head. "God no, it's been all crazy. Haven't had any for weeks now. How about you?"

Paul taps his long fingers on the table, expression almost sympathetic. Almost, because it's also incredibly smug. "I've had plenty. Guess I win that bet, eh?" He reminds James of the very amusing bet they made whilst filming Wimbledon.

"What, still?" James says. "Man, that was four years ago. Fine, fine, you win. What were the stakes again?"

"Buy a round of beer and kiss Ian McKellen's butt," Paul says with a straight face.

"I believe I've done one of those already." James says dryly. "What kind of beer do you prefer."

"Actually I prefer Vodka if you're offering." Their food soon arrives and Paul sits up to eat, taking a few bites of his egg and bacon sandwich. "So you didn't even get to play with Angelina?"

"You're kidding, right?" James says. "Let's just say that if you saw us in the movie and thought that her character was attracted to mine, then she's a better actress than she gets credit for. Besides, it's not the side of the field that I spend most of my time on, anyway. And Vodka it shall be, if that's your thing."

Paul shrugs. "Even most of my gay friends would do Angelina. Do you have a certain someone you like going to then?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd do her." James says. "It's just that she's not interested. There isn't really anyone regular, no. How about you, got a nice piece waiting somewhere?" He grins.

"No, I'm not looking. Work and the pleasures of the club are keeping me busy and satisfied." Paul takes another bite and pours himself some tea out from the teapot. "Though it is rather nice when you stumble across someone unexpected," he adds after a beat, meaning James.

"Oh, sure." James agrees. "I have a look at the club directory once in a while - sometimes it's a little surprising who is in there."

Paul chuckles, choking a little on his sandwich. "I don't mean looking for people. Ian sneaked up on me in Harrods and now I sneak up on you here. That kind of stumbling. Seems to happen to me a lot."

"Ah yes." James says. "I've run into a few people here and there - had a few 'hey, isn't that' sort of experiences."

"Best kind I think. You never know who you'll bump into, what pretty boy you might end up marking." Paul recalls many a time when a play scene started out like that.

"True, though sometimes you just have to come out with it and ask the question." James says. "I recall a lovely experience with a certain young American actor. I won't name names of course, but he whipped me until I screamed and then fucked me until I screamed some more."

"Mm?" Now that sounds like a nice scene. "Wait, remind me, you like screaming, yes?"

"That sort, yes." James says, grinning. "He pushed me hard, almost to the point of safewording out. Of course, he did it as a favor to me."

Brow furrowing, Paul gives James a strange look. He's never been one to enjoy pushing people that far and it always seems strange why other people do like it. It just seems like a breakdown to him. "You always did baffle me," he says to that with a grin. Paul would consider his own play more like lovemaking. A gentle build up, a nice, satisfying climax and a slow, snuggly come down.

James shrugs. "It's not my normal thing. Things had been too tense lately - I needed something to take me down, so that I could let go of it all." He smiles. "There's nothing wrong with a soft touch, believe me."

"You feel release from crying? You'd feel better after that than a cuddle in bed?" It's interesting learning how other people work and what makes them tick. It's not often Paul gets to find out, what with work and everything, but when he does it's one of his favourite hobbies.

"Well, like I said, this was a particular case." James says. "A cuddle is fine for sharing and support, but sometimes I just need to be pushed hard. It's like I'm being given permission to let it all out."

Paul cocks his head to one side and chews on more of his sandwich as he considers that tidbit. He's never played with anyone who asked to be taken down, it's just not his forte. Yes he can be evil sometimes, but taking someone down requires a great amount of control and understanding and knowledge of the boy and his limits. Paul wouldn't trust himself with any of that yet, nor does he really have any desire to take someone down. "Well, if you need any sharing or support, I'm your man," he says finally with a grin.

James chuckles. "How about some head - would that be sharing?" He gets ready to duck on that one.

Nothing is thrown at him. That is until James thinks he's safe and glances up, at which point a bunched up napkin is thrown at his head. Paul looks innocent though. "Depends who's doing it."

"Hey!" So much for his 'action hero' skills - James is nailed right in the forehead with the napkin. "Oh it does, does it? What sort do you prefer to be doing it?"

"You."

Now that got him, much more than the thrown napkin. James stares at him, then grins again. "Ok, good one, you had me there."

Looking up, Paul grins back, but this time it isn't innocent. "Oh come now, you hardly expected me to give you head did you?"

James folds his arms, enjoying the back and forth. "And why not? You too high and mighty to suck a poor Glasgow lad's cock?"

Eating up the last bite of sandwich, Paul takes his time to wipe his mouth with the napkin before responding. "No, I might get high cholesterol though. I wonder if you deep fry semen."

"Oh, I'd put it somewhere deep, alright." James says, having some more of his own sandwich.

It's a good thing Paul has finished eating. It a bad thing, however, that he's taking a sip of tea just as James says that. He makes a choked noise and hurriedly puts the mug down, covering his mouth with the napkin before any tea makes a break for freedom.

"Is there a problem?" James has a little trouble of his own, chuckling with a mouthful of sandwich.

Paul swallows, coughs and makes an attempt at looking very dignified. "No, no problem at all, why do you ask?"

"No reason, no reason." James says, taking a drink of tea to hide his smile. "As for the record, I'm a very healthy young man. Very healthy."

"That may be all very well, but I have no idea what you might be hiding under those trousers," Paul retorts.

"Nothing you couldn't handle, I'm sure." James says. "You do have two hands, after all."

"Two hands will not save me from a dick with teeth."

"Teeth? Are you sure that's tea you're having?" James says, pretending to peer at Paul's cup. "No teeth down there, I swear." He grins again. "I'd still tear you up pretty good, though."

Paul snorts. "I'm sure you would, but your cock isn't going anywhere near my arse. I don't care how clever you are."

"Spoil sport." James says, with a dramatic sigh. "Don't know what you're missing, that's all I'll say."

"What I'm missing can hardly be larger than Sir Ian McKellen, unless you're hiding an elephant under there," it's accompanied with as straight a face as Paul can manage, but rapidly degenerates into a Cheshire grin.

"Well, yes." James says, matching Paul's grin. "It's hardly fair to expect me to be able to compete with that. The man is on the scary end of big."

Paul shrugs, grin not leaving. "Which is why it's like a light bulb. He shakes it around a bit and the flies gather."

"Now that's just awful." James says, making a face. "The good knight and I haven't connected in a while, alas."

"Oh that's a shame. I'm seeing him again at Halloween actually, invited him over. I'm sure he won't mind if I pass on his number," Paul offers.

"Thanks, but we've got each other's info." James says, shrugging. "We just haven't re-connected - it happens."

Paul cocks his head and nods in agreement. "Ah, yes it does unfortunately. Still, it's silly come to think of it - thinking Ian wouldn't have your number, that is. I bet he has the numbers of all the pretty guys in the world."

James colors slightly. "I'm sure he has anyone's number that he wants, yeah. I think he's amazing, living openly the way he does, never mind what a great actor he is. I'm glad that he's had so much success, particularly in the last 10 years."

"Yes. I hope I have that much success when I'm grey. In the bedroom and out," Paul adds with a smirk.

"Yeah." James agrees. "And we know that everything still works, of course." He does a bit of smirking on his own.

"Oh of course. Keep it well oiled and used and we shouldn't have any problems." Paul gestures at him, "Do you need to be oiled?"

"If you mean, am I in danger of falling into disrepair from lack of use, no." James says. "If you're asking if I would mind a bit of oiling, definitely no."

Paul lets out a heavy sigh, but his eyes are sparkling. "Unfortunately I must get going James. I have an interview and I must head home before that and... oil my arse."

"Oh? Who's interviewing you, the Sun?" James says. "Well, it was good seeing you again, old thing."

Another napkin missile launches itself at James' head. "Maybe I should plug your mouth with some meat," Paul retorts with a wide grin as he stands. "But I'll save that for next time. Was good seeing you too."

Paul and Henry meet up in the London club

emachi@gmail.com — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 20:55:47 GMT

Paul lounges. He's good at that. Lounging and drinking tea. He's lounging right now in the bar in London, enjoying the very pleasant sight of a boy thrown over a table and being beaten purple. After a moment he checks the clock. Henry should be here in a couple of minutes and he's looking forward to seeing the old bugger again.

Paul likes Henry. It's good to have someone who has the same kind of headset as he does and appreciates a nice boy's or man's company.

Behind Paul, Henry stops to appreciate the view. Not only the boy howling mindlessly, but the man sprawled over his seat like some big golden cat. Fuck Hank. All this time with Elias has warped your damn mind. Henry huffs a laugh at himself. "There are some things you can never get tired of seeing."

Lips quirk in a smile. Paul doesn't have to turn around to see who's speaking. He recognises Henry's deep rumbly accent anywhere. Especially in London.

"Mmhmm," he purrs and one long leg shifts, stretches, and rests over the other in one graceful movement. "And you're one of them, have a seat and I'll get you a drink. Tea?"

"Diet coke," Henry amends. He pulls out a chair next to Paul and sits, grinning at the other man. "You're looking good." And of course he's looking Paul over. Head to toe.

Paul signals for a waiter and passes on Henry's order. "Thank you, and still a charmer as always aren't you? Though still drinking that carbonated crap I see." He meets Henry's gaze and holds it, icy blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I've not yet begun to charm." The tilt of Henry's smile hints at mischief. "I'm saving that for later."

"I see." Paul watches him for a moment, eyes hovering on the twitch of Henry's lips. "Well I've seen a couple of handsome boys since I got here. One of which may appeal to you."

When Henry had extended the invitation to Paul to meet at the London club, he'd not mentioned any particular entertainment for the evening. The other man is good enough company that Henry would have enjoyed himself even if they'd just sat and talked and watched the other members sceneing. Sharing a boy would be far fun; still, Henry is a little curious about how much more he could push for.

"What would you say if I was more interested in what's already at my table, hmmm?" Color him greedy. It goes well with horny and perverted.

A pale eyebrow arches. "Greedy, aren't you?"

The rhetorical question is accompanied by a grin. Paul knows Henry is a pervert. It's one of his best qualities as far as Paul's concerned. Stroking his chin, he considers the proposal. It would depend on what Henry wants, what he'd ask for. "Go on."

"I'm only greedy when faced with temptation," Henry answers with a laugh. His eyes lock on Paul's mouth. "I'd kiss you. For starters."

Well, kissing is more than fine. Good way to say 'hi, how are you'. Also a good way to get Henry into your lap. Paul grins and pats it. "I'm open to that."

Henry's brow goes up at the invitation to sit in Paul's lap. Okay. Maybe just a little more clarification here. "Then I'd want to fuck you."

"Fuck me," Paul echoes with a chuckle. "I'm flattered." He stretches, entirely for Henry's benefit, letting him admire the sight. "Is that all? Or is there more?"

"Depends on how far I get with option A and B," Henry laughs. "No worries though, I'd not thought about taking you down... not seriously, at least."

Paul scratches his neck, eyes never leaving Henry. Does he feel comfortable enough to let Henry fuck him? Possibly, he'll see how things go. If he bails out, no big deal, Henry won't mind. It really depends more on the chemistry and how Henry handles it than discomfort.

"Option A is open, you're welcome to do that anytime. Option B..." Paul's gaze flickers down to Henry's crotch. Subtle, but not before Henry notices. "Go for it and we'll see."

The underlying nervousness is noted, but so is the hint of interest. Henry pushes away the urge to kiss Paul. It can wait until they're both sure of what they're getting into. He crunches a little more ice and considers. "If you aren't comfortable enough for penetration would you be okay with anything else instead?"

Paul gives a graceful shrug of his shoulders. "I'd be more comfortable with penetration than anything else your perverted mind can come up with I'm sure," he says and chuckles.

Henry snorts. "Never so perverted as to ignore limits. Do you want to use a safeword here or..."

"No, if I say stop, you will stop, that's good enough for me. I'm not completely incapable of thought or speech when I'm being fucked." Paul lets that hang in the air for a moment. Maybe if Henry knows that he has been fucked before, and by someone with the Greatest Cock on Earth, then he'll worry less about this.

"Good enough." Henry sets his drink aside and stands up. Holds his hand out for the other man. "Option A then."

Paul takes it, lets Henry help him up and finishes off the last few remains of his own drink. "Now, are you going to take advantage and do it here in front of all these people?" He asks cheekily.

No. Henry wasn't planning that at all. But now that Paul's asked...

Henry pulls the other man toward him, closing the last few inches himself as he meets Paul's mouth with a low, hungry sound. It's not just the kiss Henry had originally intended, hands roaming, exploring the other man's body through his clothes, and slipping under hem and waistband to touch underneath.

A snort erupts into Henry's mouth, one of very little surprise. Paul smiles into the kiss as he kisses back, all soft nips and clever tongue working on making Henry growl. Even big men can be teased, just like any other.

As far as kisses go, it's a damn good kiss. Paul doesn't back down, meeting Henry's aggression with his own. Henry loves a submissive boy going down for him, but hell, there's something about a man who will push back.

And Paul pushes back more when Henry lets him. His lips push harder, tongue claiming Henry's mouth. He grabs the man's shoulders and when Henry's fingers tighten on him, so do Paul's, nails forming crescents.

Breath gusting out in a grunt, Henry eases his mouth away, hands still exploring under Paul's shirt. "Unless you plan on giving these bastards a free show, we need to leave. Now."

Paul chuckles and moves away, free from Henry's roaming hands. "C'mon then." He winds through the bar and gets them a room, but as soon as they're in the lift going up Paul closes the distance and grabs Henry's thighs. "So where are my manners... How are you?"

"Your manners are in your prick?" Henry asks, brow arching.

"No, your manners are in your prick, mine are in my head where the wit is," Paul counters. "What have you been up to since I last saw you, hmm?"

"Hmmm. Since that last premiere party where I bumped into you..." Henry covers with a wicked smile. Forces away the thought that Elias' mother had taken ill not long after that event. "Making trouble."

Paul grins. "Of course, you're always making trouble. Can I have details of this trouble, or is it too outrageously sinful that I'd have to go to hell for it?"

"Let's see. Had an old friend over for dinner. Very romantic. Candlelight and sweet music." Henry smirks, the vague comment gone dirty with a smile.

A pale eyebrow arches along with the corner of Paul's mouth. Henry - it has to be said - is a terrific liar. "Mmhmm... and did you end up covering him in wax and eating meatballs from his arse?"

"Meatballs?" Henry laughs at the outrageous thought. "Honestly, I think Robert's boy is turning him vegan. Poor bastard."

Paul winces in sympathy. "Ouch. So who's this Robert you molested? Is he as perverted and handsome as you?"

"Robert Downey Jr." Henry grins, "And more perverted by far. He eats tofu ice cream."

"Wow." Paul makes a face. "That's perverted." Anyone who eats tofu let alone tofu ice cream is weird in his books. Robert, however, is hot. Paul knows that. Though that doesn't forgive him from eating tofu ice cream. "I bet you feed him beef when you visit." And yes, the innuendo is intended.

"I don't know. Maybe..." Henry's dark eyes gleam, mischief and lust. "Maybe I'm the beefeater."

Paul flat out laughs at that. "Is that so? Does that mean you'll eat my beef? Because of course you know that British beef is best."

The lift door slides open. Top floor. "If you're a very good boy..."

Henry isn't able to keep up the serious pretense, laughing as they walk down the hall to their room. He touches Paul as the man keys the door open, hands wandering over strong shoulders and easing down his spine.

While Paul likes having a boy to tease and play with, there's nothing quite like having another dominant to spend time with. Paul hesitates, fingers on the door as he pushes it partly open. Henry's hands are soft, knowing exactly where to touch and stroke and they make Paul purr, back arching.

The door bangs against the stop as Henry pushes Paul into the room, shoving them both past it and on farther toward the bed. He growls in answer to Paul's purr, roughly tugging his shirt off before going after Paul's.

But Paul's already there, shirt coming off over his head. He begins to neatly fold it, hating rumpled clothes, but Henry tears it out of his fingers. Damnit, that's one extra trip to the pressing service. When Henry reaches for Paul's trousers, Paul swats the man's hands away and does it himself. It's a bitch to get the creases out of tailored trousers.

Henry smirks. "Now you're going to be all prissy?"

"Not prissy, just careful of smart clothes," Paul returns. He steps out of the legs and folds them up carefully, laying the bundle on a chair by the window. He lays the shirt on top then goes back to Henry, grabs his fly and pops the button so hard that it pings off across the room. "Better?"

The show of pseudo-aggression isn't entirely surprising. Henry huffs, "No," peeling the pants and boxers down and kicking them off as he tumbles them back onto the bed. "Better is your legs in the air."

"Huh." Right now Paul's legs are tangled with Henry's. He glances down between them to see what is poking him in the belly and smirks back at Henry. "You really think I'd be a whore for you?"

"One can hope, damnit," grunts Henry, working to get Paul set under him.

Paul doesn't help, but he doesn't hinder either. He's not going to fight Henry for this. He's thinking though, all the time, and Henry's huffed comment makes him smile. "You'd like that, hmm?"

Of course he would. Henry loves wanton whorish sluts. "You think?" He runs his hands up Paul's torso, bending down to tongue over a nipple.

"Oh, mmm, yeah, I think." Paul likes his nipples being played with, particularly when they use... oh yeah, a little bit of teeth. "You mean something a little like this," and Paul starts moaning and stretching out under him. "Oh fuck Henry, yeah, do me hard."

Elias loves gags. It's one of the biggest sticking points in their relationship because Henry hates them. He would much rather have a partner articulating, sharing the experience as vocally as possible. Usually.

"That's pathetic," Henry groans, teeth catching at Paul's nipple with the intent of shutting him up.

It stops the fake moaning, but doesn't shut him up completely. Of course it's pathetic. Paul is not a professional whore, or even a wannabe one at that, but he still gets a kick out of making Henry growl. "Like teeth," he prompts, encouraging Henry to nip harder.

Fine. They've not discussed pain, but Henry has no doubt that Paul will stop him if it goes to far. And if that's what Paul wants? That's what he will get. Henry bites over the man's chest, teeth closing on the skin hard enough to hurt.

Paul hisses in sharply, body tensing and he lets out a ragged groan as the pain fades to a pleasant burn. "Fuck." His nipple swells and pebbles, sticking out strikingly against pale skin and as Henry continues to tease it, Paul spreads his legs either side of the other man's, ankles rubbing over calves.

Henry moans wetly around the nipple between his teeth. He grinds down against Paul, shivering as their cocks brush. Heat builds between them. Henry licks across Paul's chest, sucking at the opposing nipple before his teeth capture it.

It's a way to get Paul in the mood as it were. Ready to be fucked. He arches beautifully, chest rising to Henry's mouth. Paul's fingers find his hair and drag through it, nails raking over his scalp as he moans.

The pain isn't really Henry's thing, but Paul's ecstatic reactions have him distracted enough that he doesn't even notice the sharp clawing at his scalp. He is aware that things are progressing to the point that he'll want supplies, so he breaks off, scooting to his side and smiling at Paul. "Why don't you pass me a little lube, hmm?"

Paul sighs when he pulls away, nipples aching wonderfully. He reaches to the table and passes the little tube to Henry then grabs a rubber from the drawer. "You do that and I'll sort this out," he says, tearing open the packet and reaching for Henry's cock.

Sounds good to Henry. He opens the packet and smears gel over his fingertip. Just a little to start, thinking it won't be a mistake to offer a tiny bit of friction over nerve endings unused to such play. He nudges Paul's knee up, but then waits for the man to roll the condom onto him before continuing. Smiling as Paul gives him a stroke, Henry says, "Don't worry about me. Just lie back and think of England, dear."

"Oh come now, I know you'll be jealous when I yell her name out instead of yours." Paul jests and he chuckles. He lifts the other knee up and tugs a pillow under his arse so he's elevated then lies back but doesn't think of England. Instead Paul thinks about Henry's cock and his body and how powerful it is. Well, if anyone had that choice, they'd make the same.

"Maybe I should gag you then," teases Henry, fingertips stroking down Paul's crease.

Paul arches a brow at that, interpreting it as an empty threat, because it is, blatantly. "And miss out on my sarcasm? Darling, you wouldn't dream of it."

True. But Henry snaps his teeth at Paul and reinforces the threat. "Don't test me."

There's no doubt that Henry will carry out said threat when pushed. So Paul doesn't push. He doesn't do bondage. Not with people doing it on himself. "Wouldn't dream of it, fuck when ready," he adds the last with a smile, a surprisingly soft one, up at Henry.

Henry smiles back, just as gentle. "Let's not rush the foreplay, hmmm?" He eases his finger over Paul's pucker, circling to rub the lube in before even attempting to breach the tight muscle.

Paul tenses, but only a little and mainly from surprise until he gets used to the ticklish sensation. Then it's easy to relax. Henry is as gentle as a teddy bear and makes sure he uses enough lube so that it doesn't hurt too much when it comes to easing a finger in. "This isn't the first time I've been fucked," he says after a moment, finding it easier to talk while Henry is fingering him.

"It's the first time you've been fucked by me." Henry's not about to be goaded into hurrying. Haste makes a damn waste and all that.. "Pardon me if I take my time to enjoy this. Shit. Who knows when you might thaw enough to spread your damn legs again."

Paul snorts. "Should I take offense to that? After all, you're hardly one to spread your legs yourself. Maybe do a tit for tat?" The answer to that question comes clearly via another finger being stroked slowly inside him. No.

Henry snorts. "Shut up and enjoy this, damn you." He kisses Paul to make certain that he does precisely that, tongue flicking over Paul's lips to the same lazy rhythm of the glide of Henry's fingers.

Well, no arguing with that.

Paul's eyes flutter shut and he moans long and low, body relaxed to Henry's gentle preparation. It's good, of course it's good, and Paul's cock says so, thickening and rubbing over Henry's side. This may be the first time they've fucked, but it's not the first time they've kissed. Paul loves Henry kisses and he captures the man's tongue in his mouth and sucks, letting their lips glide and stroke over one another.

It's unhurried, easy, Henry enjoying the movement of Paul's mouth against his own, the occasional catch in the man's breathing, the hot clench of muscle around his fingers. His free hand plays between Paul's nipples, pinching lightly at them until they flush with blood and draw up into pert nubs for Henry's enjoyment.

It's stimulation from every angle, pleasure that makes Paul stretch and purr. He tightens his grip on Henry's hair and gasps as a finger brushes over his prostate, sweet shivers sizzling along his spine. "You sure know how to make a guy happy," Paul breaks from the kiss to say, finding it hard to take a breath.

"Glad you approve," Henry murmurs, moist over Paul's mouth. "More?" He asks, another finger skimming over the ring of muscle.

"Yeah," Paul breathes, voice catching when Henry breaches him. "Please."

Paul's tight enough that two fingers is a stretch, but Henry takes his time. No reason not to and every reason to enjoy the way Paul responds.

Paul doesn't like the burning pain that comes with the stretching. He's never liked it. It hurts. But what he does like is the distraction coming from Henry's mouth as it glides over his nipples and "Shit," the spark of pleasure when Henry's finger hits that spot again, drawing a little choked sob from him.

"That's it, my friend," Henry whispers, wet soothing noises flowing over Paul's nipple. "Relax and let me make it good for us."

"Mm." His body obeys at first, until another spark of pleasure flows through his nipple and Henry's fingers are once again held tight. "Am relaxed," Paul says, though it's hard to determine whether he is or not.

"Mmmhmmm." Henry drags the flat of his tongue to the other side of Paul's chest, waiting until the clench eases before fucking his fingers in and out. Slow. Easy.

The ache lessens surprisingly quickly as his hole becomes looser. Perhaps because this isn't Ian and Henry doesn't have a huge ass cock. Though Paul doubts he would like to hear that. Henry's fingers are gliding, stroking him inside and out and it surprises him that the big man can be so gentle. He's seen Henry take on a boy, seen him hurt and humiliate one, yet he could hold a butterfly just as easily. Closing his eyes, Paul sighs raggedly, relaxed now. He could get into this. Really get off on this.

Henry eases his fingers free finally, knee pushing between Paul's thighs. His mouth finds Paul's, teasing kisses as he coaxes his tongue into Paul's mouth.

There's nothing demanding about it at all. Equal pleasure, equal footing. Paul is all about equal pleasure and he lets Henry in eagerly, sucking on his tongue and sliding their lips together. He does his best to ignore his cock, which is pulsing against Henry's belly, but when the man grinds over it he mewls, a little shudder giving his lust away.

Nudging Paul's legs wider, Henry settles, cock brushing up behind his balls. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, jerking off with lazy strokes, the glans pushing against Paul's entrance.

It's a weird sensation. Paul can feel the trembling against his arse and the wet smear of lube as Henry wanks against him. No wonder boys get so squirmy when he teases them like this; it's surprisingly frustrating. Paul surprises himself with what comes out of his mouth. "Feel my pucker squeezing you? Sucking at your dick." Icy eyes burn as they stare at Henry. Paul hates being frustrated.

Henry definitely feels it. Every twitch of muscle sending a skitter of pleasure through him. "You want something Paul?" He's not honestly expecting the man to ask for it. But he enjoys hearing the man talk.

"You know bloody well what I want," Paul grates back, a dark grin on his face. "Now stop teasing a man, I recall you saying how much you wanted to fuck me..."

Paul abruptly cuts off as Henry pushes past the resistance of tight muscle. "Like this?"

The harsh grunt answers Henry's question perfectly. Paul's hands slide under Henry's arms and bend to grip his shoulders, fingertips pressing into tattooed flesh. He's not quite ready to throw his legs around him too, but Paul does pull him down, hiding his face in Henry's shoulder.

Henry waits as Paul tightens around him, shifting to brace on his elbows just above the other man. "Just let me know when," he murmurs, nuzzling at soft red gold hair, not teasing at all. Not when he knows from experience how intense that burn can be.

"Hnnn." It takes a moment to relax enough for the burn to lessen, but Paul has never really gotten used to it. Even with Ian. It hurts, and he's not a masochist. After a moment of rapid breaths, Paul lets out a little sigh. "Go on."

Just a tiny thrust then, shallow in and out, as Henry's hand burrows between them. He finds Paul's cock, still semi-erect, fingers curling around the shaft, coaxing. It's not any good unless his partner is enjoying themselves too.

Breath ghosting over Henry's shoulder, Paul purrs. Yes, that works. Works a charm. He hardens to his touch and arches, torso pressing against the other man's. A little stutter of his hips pushes Henry's cock deeper and Paul sighs softly, loosening his grip.

"That's better, isn't it?" Henry's mouth finds Paul's ear, his lips caressing.

"Mm," Paul smiles, eyes shut as he eases into the pleasure. "Have you done this before?" He asks, meaning if Henry has ever bottomed. For all the years that they've known each other, it's a question Paul has never asked, nor ever found out.

Another slow thrust. Easy pleasure flowing through Henry's veins. "Hmmm?"

"Bottomed," Paul clarifies for him. The slow pace is perfect for him, easy and pleasant and warm inside him.

"Mmm. Yes. Sometimes." Henry admits it readily enough. Pulling out until only the tip of his cock is barely in Paul, he gives the man's cock a rough stroke. "Sometimes I enjoy penetration."

Paul opens his mouth to speak again, but Henry's stroke is timed nicely that it makes Paul groan, his thoughts lost momentarily. "Wouldn't have thought it."

Henry slides back in slowly, sheathing himself fully. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Unable to keep a straight face, Paul smiles against his neck. "Yes. Should I poke your ego some more?"

"Maybe," Henry laughs, shifting to kiss Paul. It's just as easy as the fuck, more sensual than anything, lips and tongues dancing together.

Paul was expecting something so different from Henry. A hard fuck, some biting perhaps, nothing like this. This is like love. His body relaxes completely, trusting Henry and Paul roams his hands over the muscular back, tracing the contours, feeling the twitches as Henry moves.

One last, slow kiss and Henry sits back on his knees, drawing one of Paul's legs up, ankle to his shoulder. He's able to penetrate deeper that way, every thrust filling Paul completely. Henry exhales roughly, dark eyes watching Paul's face.

"Mmm..." Paul closes his eyes, head tilting to the side. For some reason he just can't look Henry in the eye for a few seconds as the new depth brings a rosy flush to his cheeks.

Henry grins. "Yes?" His hips rock, working him in and out at a slow pace, even the slightest motion sending shivers dancing up his spine.

"Ssh," Paul replies, trying not to laugh or moan. "Just enjoy it." Because he is, far more than he thought he would and realistically, Paul reckons he could do this for a good half hour.

"Oh. I am. Fucking-A." Henry doesn't even try to hold in the moan. He ruts into Paul harder, hand wrapping around Paul's cock.

The sudden surge of pleasure snaps Paul away from his cloud nine. Blue eyes open wide on a gasp and he looks back to Henry, expression tinted with lust. "Can't... wait, can you?"

Henry is waiting just fine, thank you. Now, whether Paul is able to wait is a different matter. Henry's hand twists over Paul's shaft, slick at the tip coating his palm, smearing sticky with each stroke.

"Oh Christ..." Yeah, waiting might be hard with Henry doing that. Very hard. As hard as his cock which is aching beautifully in Henry's palm. The pleasure coils up like a taut spring and every time Henry drills into his prostate, that spring comes closer to releasing.

"You're fucking incredible, man," Henry pants, just a shade breathless. With good reason. He's closing in on his own release, doing everything he can to stave it off without actually slowing down.

Paul isn't quite there yet. Henry's getting him there, and it feels amazing, but it's hard to latch onto the pleasure and carry it through to completion. "Not just witty and sarcastic," he says, grinning through another moan.

Henry huffs a soft noise. "Didn't say that." He leans forward slightly, testing Paul's flexibility.

Ow, nope. He may be over six foot but that doesn't mean he can lift his leg above his head. Paul grunts and clamps down on Henry's cock, feeling it swell and pulse a hot shot into the rubber.

Close has turned to right there as Paul tenses, pushes back. The grunt of discomfort turns Henry on more than it should. Henry eases up, ever so slightly, but not enough. His hand speeds over Paul's cock, ramping up the tension in other ways.

A second grunt is forced out, but this one is more from the pounding Paul's taking to the ache in his thighs. Closing his eyes once more, he imagines he's the one doing the pounding, taking Henry's arse, but this is slow and easy, the pleasure being drawn out until they're both aching with it. That's how Paul comes, body arching, fingertips shaking as they rest over Henry's chest. He's fairly quiet in orgasm, the only sounds Henry hears are faint groans and hitched breathing.

Fuck. Henry finds himself with little urge to hold back. Not entirely. But he wants one more thing before he gives into the pleasure and lets his release take him. "Look at me."

Paul does it almost instinctively, lashes fluttering up at Henry. His freckles stand out even more against flushed cheeks, tinted by the rosy colour. "Mnh?"

In the end, Henry is a dominant above all else, getting off on reactions he's forced - one way or another. "Fuck you're beautiful," he breathes out, the pleasure peaking to an impossible tension before breaking over. He spurts into the latex between them, hot pulses that leave him shuddering.

Paul doesn't look away. He watches Henry orgasm, the play of expression as it filters across his face. Henry isn't beautiful, he's rough and handsome and powerful. The kind of man that makes every muscle felt as he fucks you, every surge and pulse. Paul keeps watching, watches until Henry's head drops, then he lifts a hand to it and pulls him down to his neck.

Squirming around so Paul's ankle is hooked over his hip, Henry sprawls over the other man. "Damn."

Holding him close, but not tightly, Paul stretches his legs out carefully. He grunts when they crack, the blood slowly returning to his toes. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?" He asks, voice showing a hint of mirth.

Henry laughs, a barely there gust of breath from lungs already strained for air. He shakes his head against Paul's shoulder and sucks in much needed oxygen before saying, "I suppose you need a smoke now?"

"No, this is take two of Paul's attempt to quit." As he says it, one of Paul's fingers finds it's way to his mouth and he chews on it distractedly, obviously used to have something to drag on after sex.

"Perhaps," Henry shifts, scooting away and then up so they are face to face, "I should distract you then?" He'll deal with the mess of the condom later. Right now, Paul's mouth is tempting him.

The finger drifts away, revealing a dimpled smile. "They always say that kissing is the best way to quit," Paul's eyes flicker from Henry's down to his parted lips and he licks his own.

"Do they now?" Henry leans in, lips barely touching Paul's. "I'll have to remember that." The words are breathed softly into Paul's mouth, the tip of Henry's tongue tracing after them.

Paul exhales, a soft sigh, nothing more. It's like making love with their mouths as his tongue glides over the other, stroking, pausing, then stroking again, sharing the pleasure.

The ease they have with each other is something Henry has always appreciated about Paul. This goes beyond that. A pleasant surprise as it's not where Henry had expected to end up tonight.

The kiss slows into nuzzling and Henry sighs. Content. His hand finds the corner of a blanket and tugs it up over their cooling bodies. They're a mess, but fresh linens are only a phone call away. They can deal with that after a nap.

Profile for Paul Bettany

emachi@gmail.com — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 03:37:19 GMT

Name: Paul Bettany
Journal: p_bettany
Mun name/nick/handle: Davey
Mun journal: kibbles_n_bits
AIM: rpgpaulb
E-mail: emachi@gmail.com
When you can be reached and preferred method: GMT 10pm - 4am, IM or email
Pup's stats -
Age: 37 (27th May 1971)
Height: 6'3"
Hair: Strawberry blonde
Eyes: Blue
Marks: Several scars on his back from past suspensions
Pup's location: London
Pup's orientation: Bisexual dominant (though leans towards men)
Pup's kinks: Electricity, suspension, sensory deprivation, CBT, sensation play (fire, ice, etc...)
Pup's squicks: Whiny subs
Pup's safeword: Milligan
Pup's hobbies: Playing the guitar, football, battles of wit (ETA: Unfortunately, due to lack of mun wit, this may have to be played down a tad XD)
Game connections: Ian McKellen (friend and cock buddy)
Pup's bio: A master of wit and sarcasm, Paul is a naturally funny man. He doesn't hide his emotions and is very direct when it comes to asking for things. He and Ian are close friends and often enjoy tea together and talk about cricket and cocks and how wet the weather is.

(more to come once I've fleshed him out a bit. Need to let him flesh himself out a bit first.)

Mun Squicks: None
Mun Kinks: Heh, what isn't there? Main ones: Bestiality, humiliation, mind fucks, non con, gang rape/play, snuff.
Type of Characters Pup Likes: Doms who have a sense of humour and like a bit of a drink and a laugh. Boys who know what they want.
Play Situation: Paul will dom most boys he finds cute, though he is turned off by those who expect him to be telepathic or don't know what they want. Though he doesn't bottom naturally, he can be persuaded to, but usually only if he's comfortable with and knows the top well.

I'm happy to play with anyone, so even if your pup is a shy, unsure boy, Paul will still enjoy a chat or a drink with them.

Because I am lame and forgot to do one.

Voice mail left on Ian's phone

emachi@gmail.com — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 17:17:21 GMT

Sir Knight of the Large Cock,

You are cordially invited to attend a luncheon with Sir Paul - He Who Doth Taketh It Up The Arse - Bettany on the 31st of October.

Paul and Thomas get to know each other

emachi@gmail.com — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 12:50:04 GMT

[Backdated to April]

Another long day of filming is finally over but Thomas doesn't really look forward to spending time alone in his hotel room. It's only been a couple of days but he misses Tom like crazy. Going out on his own, on the other hand, doesn't sound very exciting either. Maybe one of the other actors is up for a beer or two, there's definitely no harm in asking.

Paul is in the trailer next to his, so Thomas knocks on his door first. "Paul? What do you think about going out for a beer and maybe something to eat?"

Paul glances up at the knock and smiles when Thomas pokes his head around the door. He's famished and just about ready to crash, but it'll be no good sleeping on an empty stomach. "I think it's a damn good idea," he answers and grabs his wallet, keys and phone and tucks them into his pockets before following Thomas out of the trailer. "Any place in mind or can I choose?"

"You can choose, I don't know my way around here anyway," Thomas replies with a smile, "so you can point out any good pubs or restaurants to me if you'd like."

"I know a few good ones around here." Paul takes a quick look around, figuring out where they are and the direction they need to go in, then starts off down the road. "Have you been over here often?"

Following Paul, Thomas shakes his head. "I've been to London only twice, I think. A friend of mine lived here and I visited him back then but it's the first time in maybe three years that I'm here. Another friend of mine still lives here but somehow we always end up meeting in Los Angeles."

Paul frowns and gives a snort, muttering something under his breath before saying, "That's just wrong. You go to LA more than here?"

"Oh sorry," Thomas chuckles, "maybe I should have mentioned that I live in LA. So yes, I'm there more than here."

Now that makes more sense and Paul's shoulders relax. It's not that he holds anything against people in America, but he is a homeboy. There is nothing like coming home to London and enjoying the city that he knows so well. He often wonders why some people move to the US, unless it's for work purposes. Europe is far too beautiful to lose so easily. "You don't miss Germany much?" He has to ask, the accent giving Thomas away.

"Sometimes," Thomas says, "sometimes I miss Germany but the work is there, mostly, and... well, lets say there are people in LA I'd miss a lot more than I'm missing Germany." He doesn't think that Paul would gossip to the press about Tom but still, he's going to be careful until he knows the man better.

"Lot of friends there, eh?" Paul asks, not expecting a response. He turns a corner and stops by a pub there, opening the door for Thomas. It's not one he frequents often, but he knows it's as good as any.

Entering the pub, Thomas chuckles. "Well, probably not lots of them, but people who are very important to me, you know? What about you? Have you ever thought about living somewhere else?"

"Never," Paul replies immediately. "I travel enough for work and nothing beats coming home to London. Besides, you can't get decent tea anywhere else." He stops by the bar and gets a vodka and orders a side plate of chips to nibble on and looks around for somewhere to sit while Thomas places his order.

"Guinness," Thomas says, "and some fish and chips, please." Turning back to Paul, he nods. "Yes, that's true. Travelling for work lets you really appreciate being home. And you're probably right on the tea, too, although I have to admit I'm a caffeine addict."

"Barbarian," Paul snorts and finds a comfy seat, lounging back against the wall. "Coffee is the drink of the devil. American junk."

"Well, we all have our character flaws," Thomas grins, "but feel free to convince me that tea is the better option."

Paul smirks and moves over, giving Thomas the option of sitting next to him or opposite him. "After a few more weeks with me, we'll have you drinking tea by the gallon by the time you go back to LA."

Sitting down opposite from Paul, Thomas smirks, too. "Good luck with that. I'm definitely looking forward to finding out how you think you can make me drink tea. I'm sure the next couple of weeks will be interesting."

Unable to help himself, a wide grin spreads across Paul's face and his eyes twinkle. The image of Thomas being used as a coffee table enters his head. Naked and trembling as he tries to keep the heavy teapot balanced on his back and to keep the delicate cup from spilling any tea onto his bare back. "Oh there are ways," he promises silkily.

"Oh yes?" Thomas asks. "You're going to tie me to a chair or something like that?" Not that he would mind being tied up by Paul but unfortunately, he doesn't even know if the man plays that way or not. Or if he's even interested in men. Damn, maybe he should've checked the Establishment's members directory.

Paul arches a brow and chuckles. If only Thomas knew. He takes his drink and has a sip, looking over the rim at Thomas, finding him out. "Not quite."

Thomas grins and shakes his head. "Aww, now you're teasing. Are you going to tell me what your plan is or should I wait and see?"

"Oh wait and see. I like to keep a man sweating," Paul comments before taking another long sip. "And I like teasing."

"You do?" Thomas asks, not bothering to hide his interest. "Hmm, makes me wonder what else you like to do."

"Are you flirting with me, Mr Kretschmann?" The lad obviously is now, and while it comes as some surprise to Paul, he doesn't show it. Seems all of Hollywood is gay nowadays.

"Would it bother you if I did?"

Paul taps his fingertips on the glass as he muses over the question. The answer is; no, not at all, but Paul isn't musing over the answer. The wicked thoughts in his head are plotting, with much more clarity, what exactly he's going to do with Thomas. That is, if the man isn't flirting to tease.

"No," Paul finally says, and that's all he offers, calmly setting his glass back down on the table and watching Thomas with a slight smile.

"Great," Thomas says, taking a sip from his Guinness while he watches Paul watching him.

They sit there in silence until the food arrives and Paul breaks stare to eat, picking at the chips. "How do you fancy going back to my trailer after this," he asks innocently. "Have some tea." Time to find out what Thomas is really about.

"Sounds like a good idea," Thomas replies, digging into his fish and chips. Let's see what Paul is really thinking of because he doesn't believe for one minute that the guy's only interested in having tea with him.

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, with few glances exchanged between them. After a second round of drinks and full bellies, Paul stands and motions that Thomas should do the same. He's testing the grounds first, seeing how pliant Thomas will be.

Hesitating only for a second, Thomas stands up and smiles. He has no intention of making things difficult for Paul; he enjoys subbing as much as he enjoys dominating someone.

Good so far. Paul smiles to himself and leads the way out of the pub. The walk back to the set is short and silent. Paul opens the trailer door for Thomas and follows him in, motioning for him to take a seat.

Obediently, Thomas sits down. Paul obviously doesn't like to say more than what is absolutely necessary and Thomas wonders if the rest of the evening will be spent mostly in silence. Could be interesting, especially if they decide to do more than having some tea.

Paul takes a seat in the chair beside him and puts his legs up on the coffee table. "Now that it's private, let's speak plainly. I'm interested in playing with you. Do you understand what that means and are you similarly interested?"

"Yes, I know what that means," Thomas nods, "and I'm definitely interested in playing with you, too."

"Good," Paul smiles again. "So talk to me, what do you want? Sex? Or something else?"

Leaning back in his seat, Thomas grins. "Well, I'm greedy, so I want sex and something else, provided that we can find a 'something else' we'd both enjoy."

"And what's this 'something else', hmm?" Now that Thomas knows what Paul is happy to do, it's easier to know what Thomas will do and go from there.

"I'd rather tell you what I absolutely won't do at all," Thomas says, "I think that's easier. No scat, no bestiality, no paedophilia, no necrophilia and no humiliation. Oh, and one other thing: I love roleplaying but I had a bad experience a couple of years back so interrogation scenes are a hard limit, too. Just to be on the safe side. Apart from that, I'm pretty flexible."

Paul lifts and eyebrow, surprised by Thomas' rather detailed answer. "Do you know a certain club here, a kink club?" It's not giving it away, it could be any club in London, but if Thomas was a member of the Est, he would know what Paul was talking about.

"A very... established club?" Thomas asks with a grin.

The grin is mirrored right back at him. "Just the one."

"I knew I should have looked into the members' directory. I've met a member of the Est on nearly every movie shoot I've done in the last couple of years."

Paul chuckles and beckons Thomas over, to the arm of the chair. "We infiltrate everywhere," he says with a relaxed shrug. "Those who aren't members are certainly curious."

Thomas gets up and walks over, standing next to Paul's chair, not quite sure what he's supposed to do. "Yes, I've noticed that, too."

"Sit." Paul pats the arm again.

And Thomas sits. "What about you though? You know what I would do but I've no idea what you like."

Making it seem like an innocent gesture, Paul rests his hand on Thomas' thigh. "I like spanking, breathplay, a spot of CBT..."

"See, we've got something in common," Thomas says, "I like breathplay as well. Haven't done it in years though. On the other hand, I'm easy, and I try anything at least once... apart from the stuff I mentioned earlier."

"I don't do breathplay with people I've only just met," Paul explains calmly, the reason why self-explanatory. His fingers start up a slow stroke up and down Thomas' thigh, playing the fabric of his trousers, feeling the firm muscle beneath. "But there are other things we can do. For example, you could take your shirt off."

"Sorry, I should have made myself clearer," Thomas chuckles, "I didn't think we'd do breathplay now. When I said I'm easy, I meant I wouldn't mind a spanking or cbt or whatever you want to do." While he's talking, Thomas unbuttons his shirt and takes off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

Paul chuckles. "CBT is hardly going to be easy for you." His eyes rake over the man's chest, lingering on one particular spot. "Mm, come sit in my lap. You have the most delightful nipples and I'd very much like to play with them."

Thomas slides from the arm of the chair into Paul's lap. "I don't think anyone has ever called my nipples 'delightful'," he says, "not that I mind."

"Well they are delightful," Paul says and he takes the buds between thumbs and forefingers and rubs them, eyes watching Thomas' reactions.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Thomas says, squirming a bit when he feels Paul's fingers on his nipples.

Paul smiles and gives the nipples a pinch, testing Thomas' pain threshold. "Of course you aren't. You love this don't you." It's a rhetorical question.

Thomas only reply is a soft moan and more squirming. He definitely loves this and he's sure he can take more than a pinch to his nipples.

He is absolutely gorgeous. The way Thomas' chest arches toward him for more and the pink buds tighten and harden between Paul's fingers is beautiful. "Move closer," Paul beckons him with one finger. "Let me taste them."

Squirming some more, Thomas moves even closer to Paul, arching his chest forward. His cock is straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans but there's nothing he can do about it right now and he isn't going to beg when they've just started to play.

"Mmm, lovely." Paul leans forward the last few inches and takes one nipple in his mouth, tongue flickering over the tip. He likes having his lap full, especially if it's full of a man as pretty and responsive as Thomas. As the man arches, Paul slips his hands underneath the waistband of his trousers and down to squeeze his arse.

"Oh yes... that feels good." Thomas moans, Paul's mouth on his nipples and his hands on his ass are just enough to tease, to make him want more. A lot more.

Paul takes his sweet time with Thomas' nipples, enjoying each one in turn as he explores it with his tongue. He tastes just as good as he looks and Paul wonders what else he can get his tongue on. Sliding his hands free from Thomas' trousers, he undoes the zip at the front and slips his fingers inside, curling around the hardening cock. The body in his lap gives a little shudder and Paul grins around his mouthful, squeezing Thomas' cock.

Thomas groans when he feels Paul's hand around his cock. It's good, yes, great even but still not enough. "Tease," he whispers, another shudder running through his body.

"Mmhmm." Paul doesn't stop either. Moving from one nipple to the next he tightens his hold on Thomas' cock and strokes it faster, still teasing, but giving him less to complain about and far more pleasure.

"Oh yes, just like that..." Thomas enjoys what Paul's doing, sucking on his nipples and stroking his cock, and he just can't sit still. He squirms, arching his chest even more forward, his hips moving, pushing his cock into Paul's hand for more.

At the unspoken request, Paul speeds up his wrist, wringing Thomas' cock with expert fingers. There's something so thrilling about having a man come in his lap, lose control.

Paul's good, very good, and soon enough Thomas is panting heavily. "Close," he gasps, "stop or you make me come...!"

"Mm," Paul's tongue curls around his nipple, flicks over it then pulls back. He doesn't stop. "Come then."

The permission is all it takes and Thomas comes, crying out with his orgasm, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Absolutely beautiful. Paul admires the arch of the man's body as it quivers with pleasure, every muscle straining. Paul wonders what he'd look like during sex, stretched taut over the bed or on his hands and knees as Paul that sweet arse. Bringing his fingers up in front of Thomas, Paul shows him the mess he's made, white strands hanging from each digit. "Would you mind cleaning these for me?"

"Hmmm.... yes, of course," Thomas mumbles, not fully coherent again after his powerful orgasm. Pulling Paul's hand closer to his mouth, Thomas sucks each finger into his mouth, carefully licking them clean. It's kinda strange tasting his own come but it's not the weirdest thing he's ever done.

He was doing well up until now, but as Paul watches his fingers disappear into Thomas' mouth, his cock strains against his fly, demanding attention. It wants those greedy lips on it, and Paul is hardly going to deny himself the pleasure. He pulls his fingers free and wipes them off on his shirt then pushes down on Thomas' shoulder as one hand goes to his trousers, unzipping them.

Smiling, Thomas slides from Paul's lap to the floor. There's no question about what Paul wants him to do and Thomas shifts so that he's kneeling between the man's legs. "Let me, please," he says, pushing the fabric of the trousers out of the way to get better access to Paul's cock.

Paul smiles and moves his hands out the way, letting Thomas take over. Now that he's come, Thomas seems to be more relaxed and eager to please and it's with a little affection that Paul hands it over to him, lets him take control. "Good boy."

Thomas doesn't waste any time, licking along the length of Paul's cock before he takes the cock head into his mouth and begins to suck lightly on it.

"Mm." Relaxing into the couch, Paul drops a hand back to Thomas' head giving him a slow pet. They've got another month or so of filming, plenty of time to explore this gorgeous man further and see what he likes. The next few moments are spent in silence, save for the wet sucks from Thomas and low almost purr-like moans from Paul. Talented in all ways, yes. When he feels himself getting close, Paul's grip tightens and his hips lift in warning.

Moaning around his mouthful, Thomas doesn't stop for even a second, determined to give Paul as much pleasure as possible. Although if the moans are anything to go by, Paul is enjoying Thomas' mouth on his cock as much as Thomas enjoys the blowjob.

Most certainly. Paul comes with a hiss, letting go of Thomas and letting him move freely as his hips pump, his cock jerking into the man's mouth.

Thomas doesn't move, even when Paul lets go of him, swallowing the other man's come before he licks Paul's cock clean.

"Enough." Paul pulls his cock free when it becomes too sensitive and tucks it back into his pants. He watches Thomas for a few moments, taking in the flushed, handsome face, then leans in to wipe a bit of come from his chin where it escaped. "Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, sounds good," Thomas replies, getting up from the floor. That was definitely better than spending the evening alone and he's glad that he asked Paul to go out.

Paul smiles and gestures to the couch. "Sit yourself down. What would you like, got vodka, beer, water..."

"Beer, please." Thomas sits down, smiling back at Paul. "So, when did you join the Est?"

Paul gets a bottle and pours himself a vodka. "About ten years ago." He hands the beer over and settles in next to Thomas. "You?"

"About the same. It was around 1997, I think, when I joined. A... friend sponsored me."

"Have you been here often since you joined?" Paul assumes he frequents the LA bar if any since he lives there. "You should visit more often, I'll certainly want to play with you again."

"No, not as often as I used to be," Thomas says, "I'm not going to the club much anymore but I'd like to play with you again as well. I'll see what I can do about visiting more often."

"Ah well," Paul shrugs, "if not I'll see if I stop by whenever I'm next in LA. I'm sure we'll meet again." The twinkle in his eye as he sideglances at Thomas clearly backs up his claim.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, yes," Thomas nods and smiles.

"I'm sure we will," Paul agrees and he pats the couch beside him, wanting Thomas curled up next to him. "You don't have anywhere to go, do you? I'd very much like to cuddle for a while."

"Cuddling's good," Thomas nods, curling up next to Paul, "and no, I don't have to be anywhere apart from my lonely hotel room."

Paul puts his arm around him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Well in that case, how about an invitation to my bed?"

Two Englishmen in the Est - Paul and Ian

emachi@gmail.com — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 16:17:06 GMT

Paul picks up the delicately decorated box of Earl Grey for the third time and mulls over it. It's either this or the box of Lady Grey he has in his other hand. Never before has he faced such a difficult decision. Earl Grey has always been a favourite of his, but he's always a sucker for the ladies and Paul can't decide if he feels like something different for a change. Then again, the Earl Grey is calling to him something rotten. Eyes flickering from box to box, he doesn't notice the presence approaching behind him.

"Personally," Ian pokes Paul in the arm. "I would go for the Earl Grey, Lady Grey doesn't work so well in London, the water is too much for it," he grins. "How are you dear boy?"

Paul startles, nearly dropping the box. "Jesus, Ian..." He turns, clutching the box protectively to his chest. Yeah, Earl Grey is good. "I'm okay, better now that you've helped me."

"I know," Ian laughs. "You used to be indecisive, now you're not so sure," he stands back and looks Paul up and down. "You appear to be very well I must say. What are you up to?"

"Well thank you, so are you. I'm just home for a couple of days before I have to head to New York for some business." Paul catches Ian's eyes and holds them, the corner of his mouth twitching. "And you, must be my new stalker."

"Excuse me?" Ian is most offended. "Me a stalker? Whatever will you say next?" the boy is clearly trying to provoke him.

A wide grin spreads across Paul's face and he turns away from the counter. "Oh I have several things in mind, but not for the public to hear. Nothing insulting though," he adds when he sees Ian frown. Then Paul's eyes sparkle. "Saw you in King Lear by the way."

"Oh yes?" Ian drawls. "Did you enjoy it?" he is thinking a room at the Est would be in order, a room and possibly a long time. He remembers vividly how beautifully Paul's pale skin marked under his hand. "What did you make of the production?"

"Oh it was cracking. Though I did get horribly distracted part way through." Paul doesn't explain why, and he doesn't need to. Ian knows exactly what he's referring to.

"So why don't we repair to the club and you can tell me all about it," Ian is feeling frisky, it must be a sign that the sap is rising, that spring is in the air. And he knows what exquisite noises Paul can make.

Oh, now what a simply wonderful invitation. One that makes Paul's eyebrows quirk in curiosity. "Okay. Let me get this and I'll follow you." He pays for the tea, getting a bag for it, then returns to Ian and follows him out of Harrods.

A cab does an impressive U turn in response to Ian's wave. Once inside, Ian moves nearer. "So what where you looking for Paul, you can tell me on the journey, I want to know what desires you are harbouring."

Paul frowns. Where the fuck did that come from? "You gathered all that just because I was distracted by your enormously big dick?" He's well aware of the smaller gap between them and he inadvertently glances down at Ian's lap. It's MASSIVE.

"You haven't taken a vow of celibacy?" Ian murmurs, grinning evilly. "Unless you have, I have very vivid memories," he kept an eye on the cabbie. Luckily he was discussing the disastrous performance of his football team and paying no attention to the men at the back of his cab.

Paul gives an inelegant snort. "The day I become celibate is the day George Bush declares his homosexuality." He does remember the last time they met up though. Can remember how sore his ass was and the immense fun they had that day. Especially with the tea and biscuits they had afterwards. Anything involving Ian is always going to be fun. "Vivid memories and vivid handprints, yeah, I remember," he returns with an equally cheeky grin.

"Plenty more where that came from!" Ian is looking out of the window though his leg is pressed against Paul's. "What a beautiful day," he remarks as the car bowls along, then in an undertone. "Looking forward to seeing you naked on your knees."

"Ssh," Paul hushes in a low whisper and he bumps his leg against Ian's. "People will talk. Then everyone will want me on my knees. You know I only go down for you, my old man."

Ian chuckles. "You know he isn't listening, not everyone finds you as irresistible as I do," he can't wait to get Paul back to the Est. They're not far now, thank god; he knows what room he wants, his usual. It has everything he needs.

"Oh? So what are YOU thinking?" A subtle move, Paul pats Ian's knee. It might not be suitable for public knowledge, but he's sure Ian will find some way to phrase it in the dirtiest way possible even if it is.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Ian smirks even more. They are so nearly there, indeed, the car turns into the nondescript facade that hides the best kept secret of the last hundred years. "Let's go straight to the bar..." they pull up and after he's paid the cab off, Ian leads the way through the hallowed doors of the Establishment.

Paul inhales as he steps inside, letting the heady, musky scent fill his head and relax his body. He's been too busy to come here for a while. At least several months. And who better to reintroduce him to the sinful pleasures of the flesh than Ian McKellen. At the bar, Paul throws an arm around Ian's shoulders and flashes a charming smile at the barman. "You going to by me a drink?"

"I am indeed," he nods to the barman who hurries over to greet him. "What would you like?" they all know Ian's habits at the Est; it's a bit late for tea and a bit early for alcohol so he always has a glass of cranberry juice with soda just before the sun goes down enough to drink gin.

While that may be Ian's forte, it certainly doesn't worry Paul. "Vodka, please. Make it a double." Ian knows from their last encounter that the Russian drink is one of Paul's seven deadly sins.

"No, make it a single," Ian has no intention of allowing alcohol to befuddle Paul's head. He smiles. "You can drink all the vodka you want after."

Paul grumbles good-naturedly, but concedes and enjoys his single shot of vodka. It gives him the start he needs, the buzz and looseness that will make this perfect. He's never found it that hard to go down for Ian, but he's much more used to being in the driving seat with others, so a little bit of vodka just helps the body relax.

"Shall we go?" Ian is ready for this, he has his own buzz, a buzz that doesn't need any alcohol to fuel it. "I have plans for you, my boy."

Tipping the last few drops back, Paul sets the empty glass down on the bar. "Well then," he turns to Ian with a shit-eating grin, "better get started then. I'll go and get us a room."

"Perfect, just ask them if my favourite is available?" Ian likes the familiarity of his favourite room.

Paul nods and heads over to the suited guy in the little booth who deals with the rooms and converses with him for a few minutes. Once he has secured Ian's room, he gets the key and dangles it in his friend's direction.

Getting up, Ian smiles. "Hope the lift doesn't take long, I can't wait to get you naked," Paul naked is rather special. Such pale, pale skin, it looks splendid when his backside is glowing red.

"Shouldn't take a couple of seconds," Paul assures him. He jabs the button and waits for the doors to open then ushers Ian inside. "That is unless you decide to ruffle me in here." He grins and leans against the wall as the lift makes its way up to the floor, eyes often straying to Ian's crotch. Damnit all to hell, does he have no control at all? Paul thought he'd have some respectable control after the few years of playing dom, but it seems there's always room for the sniggering schoolboy when it comes to Ian's cock and the need to play with it.

"So I'm thinking," Ian leans against the other wall. "I'm thinking of you on your hands and knees, pale arse in the air, I'm thinking we don't need toys I'm thinking we only need my hand ..." he pauses, eyes glinting. "And my cock of course."

Paul agrees. He's never been that eager for toys to be used on him, not when far more pleasurable things can be achieved with just the human body. There's just one thing he'd add to that list. "And lube. Lots of lube."

"Goes without saying my dear," the lift arrives at their floor and Ian strides out, he knows Paul will be right behind him. Opening the door, he nods, this room is excellent, it has all the accoutrements he needs.

It is a nice room, and as Paul looks around, he wonders if maybe they should use some of the toys on display. Would see a waste not to. Dumping his tea on the bedside table, he gets a closer look at the floggers and dildos hung up on one of the walls. "Nice." He'll have to book this kind of room when he's next here.

"So how about you get naked," Ian is leaning against the door, looking at him, looking him up and down. "I would like to see what I'm getting," he knows of course but then being a dirty old man is surely his prerogative.

Paul looks at him, the corner of his mouth quirking. "You know what you're getting, but I suppose I could remind you just in case your memory is a bit off." He takes his coat off and hangs it up in the wardrobe then turns back to the bed and gets out of the rest, leaving a neat pile under a chair. Paul feels Ian's eyes graze over him and he smiles as he turns back, arms folded gracefully across his chest.

There is a dangerous smile on Ian's lips, he watches, still leaning against the door. "Oh no," he says, "I haven't forgotten at all, but I may remind you of the old adage and this queen is watching the cat," he grins. "Why don't you show me how good you look on your knees Paul?" he'll have him on the bed on all fours soon but not until he's reacquainted himself with all this glorious nakedness.

"Certainly." Paul isn't used doing the whole subby thing, so Ian always ends up needing to tell him to do things. Which isn't a bad thing for either of them. It gives Ian a power rush and Paul doesn't have to second-guess what Ian is after. Paul moves into a space at the end of the bed and kneels down in it, hands resting on his thighs. It's all very relaxed. That's what Paul loves about playing with Ian. Not to mention that they get on so well.

"You know," and Ian is shaking his head in disbelief. "I always forget how beautiful the texture of your skin is, how pale you are," they're not really in any roles and with Paul there's always a strong possibility they'll stop for a chat anyway. He traces Paul's spine with his finger tip. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Yeah, don't rub it in," Paul replies with a chuckle. "It's a fucker in the sun." He tilts his head forward, an entirely instinctive move as Ian's finger trails higher, earning a shiver from him.

"I'm sure there are no shortages of offers to rub sunscreen in," Ian grins as his finger moves down again, pausing before it dips inside Paul's arse, just the tip. He stood up. He needed Paul on all fours, he needed to reacquaint himself with this pale naked glory.

If Paul was a whore, he'd be moaning and presenting his ass in response to Ian's touch, but he's not, and he's glad he's not. Instead he glances up at Ian, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Certainly not from you. Maybe I should just rent myself out as a rubbing post."

"Well that would be original," Ian replied. "Now I'd like you on all fours please, you may as well be comfortable while I take control of your rubbing post self," he chuckles.

All this talk of a rubbing post makes Paul think of a cat. He wouldn't play cat for Ian, that sort of roleplay doesn't interest him, but he does get a strange image of himself purring and rubbing up against Ian's leg. Just... um, no. He gives his knees a rub - Paul isn't used to kneeling - and moves to all fours.

"Now isn't that better," Ian, strips off his shirt, kicks off his shoes and just relishes the sight. Ian stands where Paul can see him and sucks his finger meditatively. He sucks it like it's the best, most delicious cock he ever tasted, he actually slurps on it, all the time watching Paul.

Paul watches him through hungry eyes. Damnit, could Ian be any more obvious? He licks his own lips as the finger slips out with another slurp and swallows down some spit. Why the fuck is he drooling anyway? Perhaps because he knows what that finger is meant to represent, and he knows how big it is.

Trying not to grin, failing miserable, Ian moves slowly out of sight. He spreads Paul's cheeks and slowly, slowly slides his finger inside the tight heat of his body. When he can, he crooks his finger and finds the exact spot that should make Paul moan with need.

Spit does nothing as lube and Paul hisses at the burn as the finger penetrates him. It's only a brief pain that dissipates as soon as it appeared the moment Ian's finger hits his sweet spot. "Mmn..." Paul purrs and stretches, pushing his ass out for more.

"Greedy slut," Ian remarks, he likes that about Paul. No pretence just honest to god lust. That's the way it should be. He pushes another finger, stretching Paul, reacquainting himself with the tightness of his body. Stilling his fingers, he uses his other hand to lightly slap Paul's backside.

Paul's teeth sink into his lip as a groan reaches the surface. Ian knows him well, surprisingly well considering they only meet up on occasion, and often by coincidence. He doesn't push Paul into doing things he isn't comfortable with, but Ian has a way of making him feel comfortable when he's in his presence. That makes it so easy to get on his knees for him and be spanked. It also makes it easy to say if something is wrong, or to ask a request, which Paul does now. "Bit of lube, please."

"Of course dear boy," carefully Ian removes his fingers. And reaches for the tube that is never out of reach at an Establishment place. He in his turn is not put out by Paul's request, doesn't worry that he should have thought of it himself, there's a degree of trial and error in scening with someone so erratically.

It's a lot better when Ian's fingers slide back in him. No burn, but just as much stretch and even more pleasure. Paul lets out an appreciative purr and his pucker flutters, grabbing greedily at Ian's fingers.

"That better?" the question is rhetorical. Ian can feel Paul's body expanding, welcoming the intrusion. He spies a small vibrating plug out of the corner of his eye and smiles to himself. Not yet, maybe after though, after he's found that sweet spot again and listened to the sound of a man who is going to want to come soon.

Ian's an expert at curling his fingers in. Knows just where to go and were to push and stroke to get Paul trembling and moaning without even placing a hand on his dick. Paul grunts and holds still, his body tight with effort. "Gonna come," he gasps out, head hanging down, fingers scratching furrows into the carpet.

"Dear me," Ian remarks mildly. "So soon ..." not once does he stop, not once does he let up, he wants Paul to come hard, intends to make him feel like he's drowning in pleasure then turn it into something a little darker. Maybe a lot darker.

Paul's orgasm hits him like a freight train and he bellows, hips canting backwards. Streams of silver hit the floor as his muscles go taut with pleasure and Paul shudders, his pucker grabbing Ian's fingers.

Not for a moment does Ian stop moving his fingers against Paul's prostate, not until he feels him coming down from the sexual high. Then he slides them out and reaches for the plug, slathering it with lube before pushing it inside Paul's still shuddering body. The smell of sex rises on the air and Ian wonders how many more of those he can draw out of Paul.

Paul jumps at the new intrusion and groans as the plug rubs against now sensitive nerves. It's not that big and makes him feel pleasantly full. "Who needs tea when you've got this to start off a day?" He quips breathlessly.

"Nothing is better than a freshly made cup of tea," Ian replies reprovingly. "Now I think it's time to lend your very pert and may I say most charming backside a little colour..." spanking a boy is a consummation most devoutly to be wished, he mused to himself. "How many, I wonder, can you take?"

"Not many," Paul admits. "But if you warm me up first then I'm sure my ass will give you pleasure for many a minute." He's not big on the spanking, but when Ian is doing it? There's always a reserved spot for him. It must be the combination of the sexy British man and the suave and charming personality that lets the men get on so well.

"I'll warm you up first," Ian promises. He decides on no more than half a dozen but first he turns the plug on so it hums contentedly inside of Paul's body.

"Oh, mmm..." Now that's a nice touch, and one that keeps Paul's senses on the alert, a constant, gentle pleasure. "Should I stay here, or do you want me in a different position?" He asks, because his knees will need a bit of a rest soon.

"Old age catching up with you too, darling?" Ian grins. "Hands and knees dear boy, arse high if you want to make it even easier for such an old man like me..." he never hesitates to play the age card whenever possible. It amuses him greatly.

Paul smirks and gives his knees a rest now, putting his weight on his arms and adjusting himself slightly. He should've known Ian would do that. "That's why I thought we should move. You won't have to lean down then. But then, if you insist..." Paul lifts his ass high, back arching. Slutty? No, not by his definition.

"Bless your kind heart," Ian said dryly. "I am not yet so far into my dotage that I can't manage to spank a nicely raised arse," Paul was tall enough that not so much bending was required. "I'm going to fuck you on the bed though," he added, delivering a warming up sort of a slap to Paul's amazingly pert backside.

"MMM." Well that shuts Paul's smart mouth up before he can make a comment. His flesh reddens almost immediately, going from pale to blush under Ian's hand. Paul feels the tingling sensation of his skin as it warms up, and combined with the constant buzzing of the plug, is very pleasant indeed.

Now Ian can recognise a good mmm at one hundred paces. He smiles to himself and spanks Paul again, then again. He is not aiming to make it hurt, just sting, give him a nice pinkness to take home with him.

Paul's eyes flutter shut and his breath quickens. The sting is no longer painful after a few slaps and Ian keeps them balanced between each cheek so Paul doesn't get uncomfortable too quickly. Paul's a quiet man when it comes to pleasure, the only sounds he makes are a few occasional grunts and moans that get a little louder as Ian's slaps get harder.

Not the most silent man, Ian has ever spanked, that title goes to someone else but he's quieter than most, certainly quieter than Ian who would have been moaning his head off by now but he knows Paul is enjoying, which is all that matters. "Mmm, you're warming up nicely," he comments and turns the vibrating plug up a notch.

It brings a renewed throb to Paul's limp cock. He groans and lowers his head to the floor, resting it on his arms - a move which arches his back beautifully, muscles defined under the sleek skin. "Feels so good," he murmurs in appreciation of Ian's handiwork.

"Looks pretty good too," Ian murmurs back. Two more slaps in close succession bring a deep bloom to Paul's skin, a few more and Ian is being careful not to over do it. This is about titillation and teasing more than pain. Dreamily he trails his finger down the delicate spine, imagining taking a stiff leather to the soft skin of Paul's back...

In the midst of it all, it's Ian's finger that draws the most attention. It's such a conflicting sensation to the hot sting on his arse, the constant vibrating tease of the plug inside him, and it makes Paul shiver, his steady panting hitching.

This is exactly what Ian was watching for. He isn't ready to be fucked yet though, not nearly needy enough, nor desperate either. He turns the plug up one more notch and with a little more lube in place, pushes his finger into Paul's body, joining the plug.

"Mmm..." Paul groans, tensing up again. He knows he has to be stretched in order to take Ian's cock, that it always hurts when they fuck, but it's well worth the discomfort. Doesn't mean to say Paul has to rush things though. He concentrates on relaxing, soon becoming accustomed to the extra stretch. The vibrations help a lot, near numbing his pucker and giving him tingles in places he never knew he had.

There is no hurry and Ian is taking his time. He is well aware of how big his cock is, it's been a matter of great pride all his life. He has no desire to hurt Paul beyond what he wants and if it takes all afternoon until he hears the right noises, the noises that will tell him Paul is ready, well so be it. Looking at him like this, Ian muses on the noble art of fisting. He loves being fisted and enjoys doing it too. Paul is so slim, the idea of his arm ... he smiles to himself. Always running before his horse to market. He tentatively pushes another finger over the top of the plug and pauses to gage Paul's reactions.

It gets a little bit of resistance before Paul's body sucks it in greedily. The plug is rather distracting now, the only thing he can really feel are the vibrations and it's taking away from Ian's fingers, which he knows feel damn good. "Take the plug out?" He asks, breath unsteady. "Give me your fingers, want to feel them screwing me."

"A greedy slut indeed," and he'd love to make him ask nicely. Instead Ian removes his fingers and slowly, exquisitely slowly removes the plug so that Paul's arse will have time to register it leaving him.

Paul's breath catches as the plug makes it's way out, his arse stretching around the widest part, skin tinted with red. Every muscle screams in protest then flexes back, clutching at nothing and he moans. "Need something."

"Yes, yes..." Ian carefully put the plug to one side. "Up on the bed, dear boy, may as well be as comfortable as possible," he grabs the lube, one can never have enough lube.

Paul lifts his head and takes a moment to stretch himself out before moving to the bed. His legs are a bit unsteady and his arse feels numb, still recovering from the vibrations of the plug. He climbs up onto the bed and smiles up at Ian, resuming the position. "I don't know why we don't do this more often."

"I have no idea," Ian is watching him, all long limbs and pale of skin. "But we should, shouldn't we," it is not a question. When his fingers are once more slathered in lube, he slides them back into Paul's body. "You're hot in every sense of the word," his own cock is hard and beginning to throb.

It's an easier entry this time, without the plug there restricting access. "Fuck me that's divine," he murmurs with a chuckle, head held high. "Do I have your number? There must be an easier way of meeting up than random encounters - as fun as they are." The digits brush over his prostate stopping any further attempt at conversation and Paul's body bucks and twitches in surprise. "You're a wicked man, Ian," he huffs breathlessly.

"Thank you," Ian grins and searching for that spot, once more he relentlessly rubs over it. "I will leave you a card this time," he likes the idea of their being ships that pass in the night but he doesn't really want to wait quite so long before he pushes Paul a little further.

Ian's fingers are better than any plug or dildo there is. No toys can tease him and rub him with quite the same effect. Paul trembles hard, body quickly becoming covered in a light sheen of sweat as Ian coaxes the pleasure from him, wringing him until Paul gasps out. "Fuck me, Ian, now, please."

Debating whether to get Paul to beg, Ian is sorely tempted. Paul begging? Even the thought makes him harder than he thought possible. He grins. Not this time. "Better get undressed then," he undoes his trousers, steps nearer so Paul can watch him and lets them fall to the ground. Only the thin cotton of his boxers stops his cock rearing up.

Even with his head down, Paul can see the bulge out of the corner of his eye, and when he turns his head to look up at Ian, he finds he can't get his eyes up much further than the man's belly. The hidden monster beneath his boxers is just too much of distraction. "Careful, you'll have my eye out with that thing," Paul quips with a very breathless chuckle.

"I'm doing something wrong if you can still make attempts at being humorous," Ian peels his boxers off. "That's better," he remarks, giving his cock a fond look. "Now..." he reaches for a condom and hands it to Paul. "I think you know what to do with this."

Paul takes the foil packet and slides to the edge of the bed. It's a little uncomfortable on his ass, but not something that bothers him. Not when he knows what's coming. Paul tears open the packet and hooks a hand around Ian's arse, pulling him between his legs. It's only a tease, and not something Paul would do if he was in the right frame of mind, but as he looks up at Ian he swipes his tongue quickly over the mushroom head before rolling the condom over the large length.

"Tsk tsk," another time and Ian might have pushed Paul down on the bed and watched him choking on cock. Not today though, today is about fucking and fucking hard. "You really are a greedy slut," he steps away. "Hands and knees dear boy, arse high," not because he wants Paul to subjugate himself, more that it's easier for him and at his age, that's a prime concern.

Slut. The name ruffles Paul's feathers a bit, but he tampers the discomfort down. It is Ian after all, and he respects him a great deal. Paul brushes his fingers over Ian's balls as he pulls away and gets back on the bed, head and arms resting on the duvet. "High enough?" He asks, not wanting Ian to hurt himself.

"Perfect," Ian gets up on the bed behind Paul, drops a quick kiss on the bottom of his spine and kneels up so his cock is nudging at Paul's hole. He will go as slow as he can and take as long as Paul needs to push in, to be buried up to the hilt in that tight heat. "Ready?"

A low exhale of breath and Paul nods, his pucker flexing, eager for Ian's cock. "Ready."

"Breathe slowly and deeply" Ian reminds him and begins to push in, slowly oh so slowly, inch by inch, no, half an inch by half an inch, gritting his teeth against the need to shove his way in and just take, take, take...

This one time, Paul is not quiet. There's no way anyone can remain silent with Ian's cock up their arse. Paul's fingers tighten on the pillow and he groans as the head eases past the guardian muscle. As inch by thick inch pushes inside, Paul's breath stays steady, but interlaced with the silence are deep gasps and moans as he's stretched open.

Hearing the moaning merely serves to feed Ian's lust but still he takes it slow, doesn't alter his pace at all, slowly pushing until finally he arrives, is buried up to the hilt in Paul's body. His fingers grip Paul's slim hips and he gives him a moment's breathing space before he begins to move.

Paul swears he can feel Ian's heartbeat pulsing inside him as his muscles clench down a few times, feeling just how big he is. It's like being constipated, only this is far better, having a living, throbbing, hot cock slowly fucking away at his arsehole. Just as he always remembers it. "Damn, Ian."

"Relax," Ian knows there's no way it's not going to hurt. But he hopes that pain will turn into something else as it usually does. The heat inside Paul belies his cool exterior and he has to exercise every bit of self control not to just fuck him till he screams.

He is relaxing. Paul's body is adjusting, his arse stretching to accommodate. The next moans that spill from his lips aren't ones of pain, and Paul's cock certainly agrees. Once the pain is gone, he can settle in and enjoy some of the most intense pleasure he's ever felt. Only with Ian. "Mm."

Ian can almost see the moment when pain turns to something quite different; it's his cue to begin moving faster, moving harder, gripping Paul's hips tightly and fucking him, gradually gaining momentum.

Very soon Ian's going at full speed, pounding into Paul who has his face buried in the pillow. His grunts are muffled - which is a pity - but there are plenty for Ian to enjoy. Paul's cock throbs red against his stomach, bouncing from the powerful thrusts, a few drips of pre-come seeping out and dotting the duvet.

There is no way Ian is going to last too long. He has been hard for what feels like hours and he has nothing to prove. They're not doing anything that requires him to show great fortitude in the holding off of his orgasm so he lets himself coast on the waves of pleasure that make his stomach flip and his cock throb. He reaches for Paul's cock, hard again, fists it, matching the rhythms.

Paul lets out a strangled moan, his body tightening painfully around Ian's cock. With the dual sensations, Paul's close to becoming delirious. He twists, hips bucking as he fucks his cock through Ian's hot palm, balls tight and ready to spill.

The frenzied response ignites a spark inside Ian and he begins to move faster, harder, feeling Paul's body following him every step of the way. He fists Paul's cock harder, tightening his grip and they both begin the descent into orgasm.

It hits Paul first, his body snapping taut as he bellows, ass clamping down on Ian's cock. If he wasn't lost in the pleasure, Paul would be smug as the other man's grip tightens on him, a sure sign that Ian's control is slipping.

Slipping would be an understatement. Ian's self control oozes away, sulking as the orgasm of all orgasms hits him like a thunderbolt. Roaring an obscenity, he comes with such force, it takes him completely by surprise and he has to clutch hold of Paul lest he collapse.

Limbs shaking, Paul wheezes out rapid breaths as he tries to get them back. He offers support for Ian's extra weight by bringing himself up onto his arms, giving him the chance to lean over him if Ian needs to.

Ian does need to. He is exhausted and floating on his own crowd of endorphins. He just breathes in and out for a few moments, before sitting kneeling up and scooting over so he can collapse. "God Paul, that was ..." words seem to have failed. "Just ..."

When Ian is laying beside him, Paul lets his arms and legs rest and flops down into the wet patch on the bed. "Oh, ick. Just wonderful, hmm?" He finishes Ian's thoughts with a flushed grin.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Ian's voice sounds sleepy. Although age has not withered nor custom staled his infinite variety, a fuck like that, well it takes it out of a man and a short nap before having a refreshing cup of tea is just what the doctor ordered.

He looks sleepy too. Just that telltale flicker of a heavy eyelid and Paul grins, fluffing up the pillow beneath his head. "Fancy a nap? Then I can order room service. Fucking is thirsty work."

*************

Sitting up in bed, tray on lap, Paul basks in the warm sunshine that is streaming in through the open curtains. "Tea, Ian?" He asks the man sitting next to him as he pours it out into a delicate cup.

Yawning, Ian sits up and stretches. "That's a good idea," he remarks taking the cup.

"Mm," Paul agrees, and he takes a chocolate digestive from the tray and dunks it in his own cup. "Lovely day it's been, hasn't it?"

"Beautiful ..." Ian sips his tea, smiling beatifically. "Absolutely beautiful and very spring like."

Paul glances to the window, listening to the birds chirp happily. "Yes, we could almost have tea outside. Get a little blanket."

"Almost," Ian agrees, shifting the pillows a little. "But not quite."

"Still a bit of a nip in the air," Paul nods, taking a bite of the biscuit and licking his lips.

"More than a touch of ground frost in the morning," Ian disports himself more comfortably.

Licking the crumbs from his fingers, Paul finishes off the biscuit and takes another one. "Will probably rain this week too."

Ian's cup is already half empty, he holds it out for a top up. "More than likely I'd say."

Paul takes the teapot and carefully refills before settling back down to enjoy the morning.

"Thank you dear boy," Ian follows suit.

Paul meets Will Kemp

emachi@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 02:27:47 GMT

Curses, what does a man have to do to hail a cab around here? Paul swears under his breath and waves his arm again, making himself obvious. At the same time he notices another man step up in front of him and do the same thing. And you know what? The bastard gets one the first bloody time.

Will is nothing if not expedient. How is he to know someone else needs that same cab that just pulls up? It's only when someone jostles him from the side that he looks up and over. "Sorry?" He asks, not at all sorry. "I think this is my cab." Though he has to blink. "Does anyone ever tell you you look like the bloke from that boat movie with Russell Crowe?"

Paul isn't in the mood for small talk, though nothing stops the natural wit and sarcasm he has from coming out. "No, never, perhaps you should have gone to SpecSavers. Now excuse me, but if you hadn't noticed I've been trying to get a damned cab for the past five minutes."

Ah. Will nods. "I'm going to the West End. Where are you? Perhaps we can share. Eco-friendly and all that rubbish."

Paul is about to make some snarky comment about rather sharing with a BO-ridden tramp, but the man is being polite and he really wants to get a drink and get home. There's an Est bar in the West End, that'll do nicely. "Close enough." Paul goes around to the road side and gets in, giving the driver directions.

It's a quiet and tense first few minutes. Will keeps stealing glances from the corner of his eye. The more he does, the more he's sure the other really is that bloke from that sailor movie, yet he doesn't make another comment. "Nice weather we're having."

"Mm," Paul grunts noncommittally and stays staring out the window. "It'll rain soon." Feeling the man's eyes on him, not a pleasant feeling in these circumstances, he fidgets uncomfortably. "Okay, I was in that boat movie with Russell Crowe. Do you want my autograph as well?"

Aha. He was right! Will smiles and shakes his head. "No thanks. I know how it is to be pestered, or pushed aside, rather, to get Harry Potter's autograph, so no worries. Will." He holds out his hand.

Paul frowns at the hand offered to him then stares at Will for a few seconds as he shakes it. "Paul. Is it rude of me not to recognise you?"

This earns a shrug. "Not really. I can act offended, if it makes things more interesting?" With this, Will smiles.

The man has a sense of humour that's for sure. Paul likes that. Anyone who doesn't have a sense of humour should be roasted over an open fire as far as he's concerned. "If that means acting like a pouty brat, then no, it won't."

"Well, damn. There goes all my fun," Will replies with a slanted grin as the car works through the traffic. "So... you were in the boat movie. What've you been doing recently? Been keeping busy?"

"I usually don't go talking about what I'm doing to virtual strangers," Paul says, eyes twinkling as they roam briefly over Will. "But since I'm stuck in here with you for the next ten minutes or so I may as well indulge you. It's called Master and Commander, by the way, and I've been working, yes."

"Ah yes. Master and Commander." Will's eyes twinkle, biting back a cheeky question or five. "But, have you been doing an American dance movie? Then, I've topped you." His tone makes it clear that Step up 2: the Streets might not exactly be the high point of his career.

Paul's lip curls in disdain. "I have two left feet, of course you've topped me." He stares at him now, admiring the curly locks surrounding the man's handsome face, the lithe body next to his. Will would look gorgeous between his legs, head in lap as he sucks Paul's cock. Perfect for Paul to run his fingers through the silky hair, pull it and pet it. Bet the lad isn't even gay, he muses sadly. Paul possesses an invaluable quality however. With his humour and wit, he can make a hint sound like amusing guy banter. "Which of course is wrong, because I'd never let anyone near my ass."

Will's eyes rake over his body. "Pity. I'd imagine that's... very nice." When he catches Paul's eyes, he smiles, before looking away, out the window. "Though there are other...alternatives."

Now that's interesting. Paul pokes his inner gaydar. It never works usually, but apparently today it decided to find the batteries. "Other alternatives to my ass? Better explain them then, don't leave a man wondering."

When Will turns to face Paul again, his eyes are bright and his smile as wide as his gets. "There's mine, for instance."

"Ssh," Paul holds a finger to Will's lips. This is clearly going the way he wants and there's no need for the cab driver to know any more. "Get off with me and we'll talk somewhere private."

When the cab pulls up the Est, Will chuckles softly. "Seems we were headed to the same place. After you." He pulls his wallet out to pay the driver before stepping out.

Seeing the money change hands, Paul makes a mental note to slip his share into Will's pocket when he's distracted. "Are you a member?" He asks, pushing open the door and heading to the bar. Will being gay is good enough, but Will being gay and kinky? What a find. Paul's almost forgiven him for being so damn lucky with the cab.

Smiling at the desk clerk, Will nearly rolls his eyes. "No, they let most everyone in these days." He slips onto a barstool and waits for the bartender, quickly ordering a vodka tonic. There hadn't been an Alex tonight, so Will had found himself...restless. And here he is. With Paul, of the boat movie. Who's quite good looking (A bit like what Alex might look like in thirty years...).

"You have a smart mouth on you, Will." Paul takes a seat beside him and orders the same. Now that they're in the Est, they can talk openly without having to be wary of who's around them. "So, you were hitting on me," he prompts, gesturing at Will to continue the conversation.

"I was?" Will asks mildly. "I'm not sure I recall..." His grin is almost smug. "Perhaps it would do for you to remind me what I might've said."

Without missing a beat, Paul recites for him. "You were suggesting that your ass is a better alternative for getting near." He glances at Will over the top of his drink, icy eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Ah, yes." His own blue eyes narrowing as he smiles, Will takes in that slightly-dangerous look. He likes it. "Are you interested?"

Paul sets his glass down and licks his lips innocently. "I think it's too early for me to answer that question. I've only just met you and it was not on good terms, so..." Paul leans on the bar, long fingers dusting over the mahogany. "I suggest you make it up to me."

"And pray tell, how might I do that?" Will asks, quietly, body still. Others fidgeted with excitement. Will goes still, years of dance training honing his body to be under his control in even the most extreme of situations. "I'm sure you have a suggestion or two?"

Will is obviously interested. Eager even, and Paul likes that. It means this will be easy. "You annoyed me, I don't need to make the suggestions." It's hard to hide the smug smile. Paul loves making them squirm, even if it's only internally. If Will is as interested as he sounds then he'll think of something. Paul doesn't leave him entirely in the dark though, giving a small hint. "I like words."

Ah. Nodding, Will gazes back, even more still, if that's possible. "I suppose we could consider the options which involve your cock, my arse and a bed? Perhaps as I'm on my hands and knees, face pushed forward into the duvet because you're fucking me so hard? Would that be an acceptable suggestion?"

Paul's eyebrow arches and his lips twitch in the hint of a smile. "What makes you think I'm interested in sex?" He's teasing the man now, and Will knows it from the mirth that glitters in Paul's eyes.

"My mistake," Will replies with a grin. "We're at the Est. You must be interested in their fine Yorkshire pudding. Please do beg my pardon."

Paul's laugh is rich and warm, his shoulders shaking in amusement. "I like your humour. But I'm not interested in the sex." He takes another drink, wetting dry lips, then fixes Will with a firm gaze. "I'm interested in seeing you on your knees. How do you play?"

"I can do that, but how is that not sex? I admit, I'm curious." Resting his cheek on his hand, his elbow on the bar, Will gazes back, doing nothing more than that for the moment. "Do you simply have a kneeling fetish?"

"No. I do not consider sex and fetish the same thing," Paul explains patiently. "If you are kneeling, do you automatically assume it's sexual? Of course in here," he gestures at the bar room, "you will assume it's sexual, but that still doesn't mean I will initiate sex with you."

"So tell me what it does mean. Enlighten me. Please." Will's expression is still mild, eyes bright on Paul's face.

"It means, that I want you on your knees, if that is okay with you." Paul gives him a wide smile and pointedly opens his legs, making a space for Will to settle in. It's not an order and gives Will time to say no if he isn't comfortable with it.

"Yes, but what would you like once I'm there?" Will's smile is still easy, too. "I'm not keen on kneeling for kneeling's sake. My knees and all that."

Paul nods, understanding the hesitation. He hates kneeling for no reason too, even with Ian. It plays havoc with the knees. "I'd like to stroke that beautiful hair," he answers. "And perhaps I could feel your lips on my cock." Paul smirks at him. "That sounding more like 'sex' to you?"

Yes. Will smiles. "Yes, actually, it is. Am I to assume that I'll get to come in this scenario as well? Or am I just shit out of luck?"

The poor man seems to have sex on the brain. Or at least he's very demanding and Paul realises he needs to get this straightened out before they can continue. "Okay, let's take a step back. What are you comfortable, and not comfortable with doing? As you may have already fathomed; I am a dom, but I need to know about you so I don't end up putting my foot in it."

"I picked up on that," Will replies with a smile. "All I'm trying to get is whether you're one of those bastard doms who gets his kicks and leaves the other bloke with orders not to come, or if you're about mutual gratification, whether it be by my hand or something else."

It's a perfectly viable concern, and one that Paul feels the need to settle with Will before they do anything else. He doesn't want him worrying about things - not that Will seems like the kind of man who would take any bullshit from him. "How will I settle your mind?" He asks, letting Will call the shots.

"Tell me I'll at least come." Will's smile is downright cheeky.

"Oh you'll definitely be doing that. Though the means by which you do, I can't tell you." Paul matches the cheeky smile with one of his own. Hopefully the man will be happy with that answer.

"Right. Then I'm to take to my knees, yes?" Will reaches for his drink, intent on finishing it before he does so. "I go by the colour system, by the way."

Paul nods, taking the important information in. "Understood. Now, yes, on your knees." Paul rests a hand in his lap, waiting for Will to move into position. "May I call you boy?"

This stops Will again, and he cocks his head, eyes narrowed in thought. Alex is a boy. Is Will? Finally, he nods, slowly. "In scene only, of course." He raises his glass and finishes his drink, then he slips off the bench and with a grace that might be surprising, he pushes his stool away and slides to his knees. "Thank you. Sir," he adds, eyes glancing up before he goes back to looking at the floor.

"Good boy," Paul murmurs, fingers finding Will's hair and tangling into the curly locks. It feels nice to have a warm body kneeling between his legs again. Not necessarily for sexual favours, but just having someone there is comforting and relaxing. Paul could easily spend the next hour like this, stroking and tugging at Will's hair. He loves the sensual feel of it through his fingers and he wonders if Will's body is equally as silky.

It takes a moment for Will to settle comfortably and gradually he does, his back straight, head down. Surprisingly, the hand in his hair is comforting, not condescending; he'd wondered.

It's no wonder Paul takes his sweet time in finishing his drink. He doesn't have to be anywhere today, and he knows Will was on his way home, so clearly he doesn't have to go anywhere either. Paul finishes his drink after a good ten minutes and sets the empty glass on the bar with a smile to the pretty barman. Then he turns his attention fully to Will and tugs a little harder at his hair. "You need to be anywhere tonight, boy?"

An eyebrow arches. "I do enjoy sleeping in my own bed....sir. But I have no planned engagements." Following the hand allows the pressure to ease; Will can't remember the last time someone's pulled his hair.

"If you want to go home after this I will not stop you." It helps makes Paul's mind up as to whether there would be any point in getting a room. No sex then, just something nice and relaxing for the two of them. He gives Will's hair a second tug, not too hard, tilting his head up. "Let me feel your mouth on me."

"Of course, sir. Might I use my hands to undo your trousers?" Will asks, green eyes moving over Paul's face.

Paul smiles. "Yeah. Teeth are overrated. Always take too long in getting the damn zip down, don't you think?" He traces his thumb over Will's cheek, finding a bit of stubble. Well, almost smooth.

"Yes, very much," Will agrees, reaching up to unhook Paul's belt and the button, then sliding the zipper down. Slender fingers draw out the mostly-hard cock he finds there and with one last glance up at Paul, Will smiles vaguely before leaning in to lick almost teasingly at the slit.

"Mm, that's nice. Do it slowly, take your time, let's make this last. If your knees start to hurt, just move, okay?" Paul watches him move and give a nod and he smiles, stroking Will's cheek.

Cock-sucking was something Will hasn't done a lot of lately, but just as he'd found with Alex, old habits are slow to die and he's quick to remember to feather the point of his tongue up the vein, graze his teeth over the head of Paul's cock and to hollow his cheeks as he pulls back. Even, after a moment, he's able to take most down, swallowing against the head.

Paul exhales in a faint wavery breath, his thighs tensing in pleasure. Will's mouth is warm and wet and - oh yes - divine, his eyes bright and droll. "I think we can forget about the cab incident," Paul tells him with a smile.

Will's brow arches again. Considering he'd not been worried, it's hardly a relief, but more an amusement that Paul brings this up. The only response he gives is to hollow his cheeks again as he pulls back.

All the blood in Paul's body seems to be sucked into his dick. Will's clearly done this many times before and Paul wonders how often he's been to the Est. How long he's been a member. Will certainly isn't shy about it, so it must be several months or a year at least. Either that or he's just a confident slut, but Paul can't see the slut half, just a very nice man. "Can I get you another drink?" He asks kindly.

Odd question to be asked as you're giving someone head. Will waves his hand briefly before wrapping it around the base of Paul's cock and strokes in time with his mouth.

Taking that as a yes, Paul nods towards the bartender and gets Will another vodka tonic. If he's anything like Paul is, he'll probably be grateful of that later when he's trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Once that's taken care of, Paul turns his attention back to the man between his thighs and relaxes back to enjoy the sweet sucking. He hums out an appreciative moan as Will sucks him in fully and Paul's hips give a small jerk, pushing his cock half an inch deeper.

Swallowing hard to bite back his gag reflex, Will looks up just briefly, then goes back to what he's doing, a little harder, a little deeper, grip a little tighter, pinky grazing Paul's balls.

"Mm, bugger," Paul hisses, hand tightening in Will's hair. He's careful of his hips, controlling them so he doesn't choke Will too much, but still enjoying the tightness of his mouth. That aside, what Will is doing with his fingers is ingenious, and the combination of teasing fingers and hungry sucking brings Paul to orgasm much sooner than he had anticipated.

Now that's better. Will would smile if he didn't have his mouth full. Because really, that's rude. So he just keeps doing what he's doing, looking up at Paul through his fringe.

Paul keeps his eyes on Will as he spills in his mouth. Even as he grunts, a chuckle comes out as Will's nose wrinkles up at the taste. "You'll be wanting that drink now," he says with a blissful grin.

Nodding, Will wipes at his mouth, keeping an admirably straight face. Really, come just takes vile. There's no two ways about it. But he taps at his barstool. "Might I sit...sir?"

"Sure. Though put me away first." Paul takes the drink from the bar and hands it to him when Will gets back up. "That was lovely."

Sitting, Will takes his drink with a nod. "Thank you. I admit, I was a bit out of practice." A sip and he swallows it gratefully, smiling at Paul out of the corner of his eye. Will he remember? Their deal?

Of course Paul hasn't forgotten. He's not a man to go back on his word, especially where mutual enjoyment is concerned. He'd really like to have the man in his lap, but somehow Paul doubts Will would like that. "Is there any particular way you'd like to come?"

It's too good an opening to pass up and Will smiles, eyes squinted. "Your arse is not on offer?"

Paul lifts an eyebrow, but he's not that surprised at the question. Will is a more dommy switch after all. "Unfortunately no, I reserve that for only a few people. Want another go?" He adds with a smirk.

"At...?" Eyebrows raised, Will gazes back steadily. He is curious about that select few, but he doesn't ask.

"At deciding how you want to come, bar my arse," Paul clarifies with a chuckle. "If not, I think I'll ask if you'd like to sit in my lap and I'll stroke you."

Interesting idea. Paul is a bit taller, a bit broader. While not keen on the message that is sent, the idea of being stroked is too tasty to pass up, so Will nods. "That's fine, yes."

Paul smiles, pleased at the choice. He puts his legs together and beckons Will over, indicating that he should sit facing away from him.

Clearing his throat, Will slips from his seat onto Paul's lap, facing the bar and his drink, his own legs spread, cock starting to show life at the promise of attention.

"Other way," Paul motions, twisting Will into the position that he wants him, sideways to the bar like Paul is, his legs bent over the other's. "There, that's better." Paul slides his arm around Will's waist, nimble fingers plucking at the man's fly and slipping inside, curling around his cock. "Mm, big boy aren't you?"

Hissing out a breath, Will nods, eyes falling half-shut. "Mmmhmm... I've not had any complaints." He works to keep his fingers loose, not fisted, and out of Paul's way.

As he works Will's cock free, Paul slowly spreads his legs, pushing the other man's apart. Much better, and slutty too, perhaps without Will realising it. He works Will's cock slowly, aiming to tease him. Small, but firm strokes up and down the shaft, ending with a slick twist to the head.

"Mmm," Will murmurs, eyes closing, head falling back on his neck, Adam's apple exposed. Small tendrils of pleasure begin to snake through his body, making his heart beat a little faster and his breathing get a little more shallow.

How beautiful that is. When touched in the right way, even someone like Will can be turned into a puddle of pleasure. Paul moves his hand up to that gorgeous neck and curls his fingers around it. There's no pressure - Paul doesn't want to scare him - just gentle caresses to heighten the sensation as he strokes him harder.

"Bugger," Will whispers, instinctively, gracefully in the curves of his body, leaning into Paul's fingers, his body otherwise still. The tendrils become flames that lick at his spine. "You've nice hands."

"Thank you," Paul purrs at him and increases the pace, thumb flicking over the slit, using nothing but teasingly light, maddening touches. He takes good care of his hands, knowing how sensual they can be when playing over a burning body.

It's almost not quite enough; enough to frustrate, not satisfy. And yet... Paul, who Will is realizing is quite wily, knows just when to increase the pressure and he gasps each time. He's limp against Paul's body, head lolling on his neck. Savour, this is his motto. Enjoy. So he does.

Paul murmurs his appreciation, feeling the way Will's body plays beneath his fingers. "Mm, are you sure you don't want to indulge me in getting a room together?" The man is absolutely exquisite like this and Paul starts stroking him harder, with the purpose now of making him come.

Now, a tension starts to evidence in Will's arms, the muscles going taut. "What might take place there?" He asks, sounding just the slightest bit breathless.

Paul isn't sure whether the tension is good because Will is close or bad because he doesn't like the notion of getting a room. "My dick up your arse, feeling my fingers all over you, stroking, caressing," he whispers, voice soft and seductive, sweet molasses in Will's ear.

Tension grows the closer Will gets to coming. His eyes shutter closed and he takes a deep breath letting the climax build and build. "Coming," he warns, before arching off Paul's chest feeling his cock spurt in Paul's hand.

"Mm." Paul holds his cock loosely and even then he can feel the steady throb of Will's heartbeat against his palm. He doesn't make Will clean his fingers off, knowing that he doesn't like it. Instead he motions to the barman for a towel and wipes his hand off on that. "Gorgeous."

"Mm," Will hums as well, slumped low in Paul's lap, chest moving in deep breaths. "So tell me more about this room idea?"