Part Eighty-nine
Jan. 31st, 2025 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
For a few minutes Barir just kissed Kay, perched naked in his lap. He undid Kay’s tie, pulling it loose and throwing over his shoulder to land somewhere behind them, then he did the same to Kay's shirt collar, so he could lean in and lick a hot path along the length of Kay’s neck. Kay could hear his heartbeat in his ears, faster than ever. Alla breve, he thought, a little hysterically.
“Barir,” he managed to say. “If you want me to—” bugger you senseless, he thought, but couldn’t make himself say— “You can’t keep doing that.”
Barir pulled back and smiled at him, like a fire burning low. “A moment, then.”
He climbed out of Kay's lap to go and look through his bag, rifling through some books and documents before pulling out a small tub.
“God bless the chap who invented this stuff,” he said happily, returning to Kay's lap. “I don't know if he realises that part of his success is due to the interests of inverts, but I thank him anyway.”
Kay's nerves felt as though they had been set alight. So far everything he and Barir had done together had been at least a little familiar, from a distance of several years, but this was entirely new. From Barir's easy confidence, Kay could discern that it was not in the least bit new for him. He tried not to think of that, pushing away the vague images his mind threw at him, of some faceless other man pushing Barir down.
Barir seemed to read something in Kay's face, for he set the little tub down and looped his arms about Kay's shoulders. “You're under no obligation here,” he said simply. “Don't allow me to push you into anything.”
Kay swallowed. He put his hands at Barir's waist. Let them slip lower, squeezing the slim curve of his arse. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. “I can think of nothing I'd rather do,” he said. “Though you may need to direct matters a little.”
Barir smiled and kissed him, open-mouthed and heedless, one hand fisted in the front of his waistcoat. Kay found himself pulled down, so that they lay on the rug, he between Barir's legs. His blood was thundering.
“It's been some time since I've done this,” said Barir, a little breathlessly. “So if you would start with your fingers?”
Kay blinked at him for a moment, before realising what he must mean. He sat up and fumbled for the tub of vaseline, coating his index finger in the greasy stuff. Barir, sprawled below him, looked perfectly at ease with proceedings. He opened his legs, hitching his hips slightly, and Kay swallowed. He set the fingertips of his left hand at the inside of Barir's thigh, soft and hairless and vulnerable, slid them down slowly, as though playing a scale. He felt rather like he'd done the first time he had cut into a block of maple, quietly terrified and thrilled at once.
“Kay.” Barir was smiling. He curled a hand around Kay's other wrist, brought it down. “Please.”
It was strange and wonderful, touching inside Barir's body. The heat of him, the shift of muscle. Barir made a tight, desperate sort of noise, biting his lip, breathing hard.
“Is this—” Kay began.
“Oh yes,” Barir breathed, barely a word. “Very much.” And then, as Kay dared to move more, deeper, “Oh. Oh, fuck, there, please, there— ah.” He rocked up into Kay's hand, gasping, and Kay didn't know where he wanted to look more: at Barir's face, at his swelling cockstand, at the place they were joined, two of his long fingers curled inside of Barir. Kay's cock throbbed, desperate. He pulled his fingers free.
“The first phase of research is concluded,” he said, his voice less steady than usual.
“Mm. And your findings, sir? Wait—” Barir pushed up onto his elbows and Kay paused with his fingers on his waistcoat buttons. Barir flushed even more, his gaze sliding over Kay's form. “Keep your clothes on?” he said, suddenly looking a little shy for the first time that evening. “I've had a few little fantasies about you taking me while still in your theatre finery.”
“It's hardly finery.” But Kay was in his palm. He leaned down, kissed him, and Barir slid his hands down Kay's back, over his waistcoat, to squeeze his arse through his trousers. Then to the front, to tug said trousers open and finally free his aching member.
“Hello, my friend,” said Barir with a grin, taking hold of him.
Kay rather felt that he would go off at any moment, just at the sight of Barir lying there so flushed and eager. He quickly coated his prick with vaseline, then settled back between Barir's legs.
“Are you…”
“My dear fellow, if you don't sod me in the next few moments I shall go mad.”
Kay huffed a laugh, all of his nerves dissipating all at once. “Very well.”
Good lord, it was… overwhelming. Hot, tight, exquisite pressure. Barir closed his eyes, making soft, desperate noises; Kay could not bear to close his own, wanting to remember as many details as he could. He pushed into Barir slowly, until finally he was fully seated.
“Barir,” he managed to say, “Barir, my god.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Barir, rather breathlessly. He opened his eyes. “Please move.”
Kay did, a little tentatively at first, still not entirely convinced that this wouldn't hurt Barir. And then more, and more, holding one of Barir's slim thighs, Barir's heels digging into his back, Barir's panting breath at his ear.
“Kay, Kay, Kay, Kay,” he was saying, over and over. “Fuck, you feel— don't stop—”
“Barir.”
Kay was utterly lost in sensation, in the impossible closeness of it. He crushed his mouth to Barir's, as though he could press himself right inside his skin. He drove into Barir desperately, something inside him winding tighter and tighter until, like a too-taut violin string, it snapped. His crisis hit him all at once, his cry of pleasure muffled against Barir's mouth.
“Fuck,” he managed to say afterwards.
“It certainly was,” said Barir. When Kay looked at him his eyes were shining, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was quite the most beautiful thing Kay had ever seen. “That was magnificent. I hope your research was satisfactory?” He stretched a little, and Kay felt his cock press up against his stomach.
“Perfectly satisfactory, as I'm sure you realise. Allow me,” he said. He shifted off Barir to lie beside him, propped on one elbow so that he could watch his face while he frigged his cock. Barir lasted barely a few minutes, rocking into Kay's hand and clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his cry as he spent all over his stomach and Kay's hand.
For a few moments they lay quietly on the rug, in the dimming light and warmth of the fire, Kay's hand on Barir's stomach, Barir's fingers sliding beneath Kay's shirt to trace patterns on his back. Eventually he stirred.
“This floor is becoming jolly uncomfortable,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “My back is going to give me grief tomorrow.”
“I'm sure my knees will be much the same.” Laboriously Kay got to his feet, his knees already stiff, and helped Barir up. On the mantelpiece the clock ticked to half-past two. He leaned down and kissed him. “Come. Time for bed.”
For a few minutes Barir just kissed Kay, perched naked in his lap. He undid Kay’s tie, pulling it loose and throwing over his shoulder to land somewhere behind them, then he did the same to Kay's shirt collar, so he could lean in and lick a hot path along the length of Kay’s neck. Kay could hear his heartbeat in his ears, faster than ever. Alla breve, he thought, a little hysterically.
“Barir,” he managed to say. “If you want me to—” bugger you senseless, he thought, but couldn’t make himself say— “You can’t keep doing that.”
Barir pulled back and smiled at him, like a fire burning low. “A moment, then.”
He climbed out of Kay's lap to go and look through his bag, rifling through some books and documents before pulling out a small tub.
“God bless the chap who invented this stuff,” he said happily, returning to Kay's lap. “I don't know if he realises that part of his success is due to the interests of inverts, but I thank him anyway.”
Kay's nerves felt as though they had been set alight. So far everything he and Barir had done together had been at least a little familiar, from a distance of several years, but this was entirely new. From Barir's easy confidence, Kay could discern that it was not in the least bit new for him. He tried not to think of that, pushing away the vague images his mind threw at him, of some faceless other man pushing Barir down.
Barir seemed to read something in Kay's face, for he set the little tub down and looped his arms about Kay's shoulders. “You're under no obligation here,” he said simply. “Don't allow me to push you into anything.”
Kay swallowed. He put his hands at Barir's waist. Let them slip lower, squeezing the slim curve of his arse. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. “I can think of nothing I'd rather do,” he said. “Though you may need to direct matters a little.”
Barir smiled and kissed him, open-mouthed and heedless, one hand fisted in the front of his waistcoat. Kay found himself pulled down, so that they lay on the rug, he between Barir's legs. His blood was thundering.
“It's been some time since I've done this,” said Barir, a little breathlessly. “So if you would start with your fingers?”
Kay blinked at him for a moment, before realising what he must mean. He sat up and fumbled for the tub of vaseline, coating his index finger in the greasy stuff. Barir, sprawled below him, looked perfectly at ease with proceedings. He opened his legs, hitching his hips slightly, and Kay swallowed. He set the fingertips of his left hand at the inside of Barir's thigh, soft and hairless and vulnerable, slid them down slowly, as though playing a scale. He felt rather like he'd done the first time he had cut into a block of maple, quietly terrified and thrilled at once.
“Kay.” Barir was smiling. He curled a hand around Kay's other wrist, brought it down. “Please.”
It was strange and wonderful, touching inside Barir's body. The heat of him, the shift of muscle. Barir made a tight, desperate sort of noise, biting his lip, breathing hard.
“Is this—” Kay began.
“Oh yes,” Barir breathed, barely a word. “Very much.” And then, as Kay dared to move more, deeper, “Oh. Oh, fuck, there, please, there— ah.” He rocked up into Kay's hand, gasping, and Kay didn't know where he wanted to look more: at Barir's face, at his swelling cockstand, at the place they were joined, two of his long fingers curled inside of Barir. Kay's cock throbbed, desperate. He pulled his fingers free.
“The first phase of research is concluded,” he said, his voice less steady than usual.
“Mm. And your findings, sir? Wait—” Barir pushed up onto his elbows and Kay paused with his fingers on his waistcoat buttons. Barir flushed even more, his gaze sliding over Kay's form. “Keep your clothes on?” he said, suddenly looking a little shy for the first time that evening. “I've had a few little fantasies about you taking me while still in your theatre finery.”
“It's hardly finery.” But Kay was in his palm. He leaned down, kissed him, and Barir slid his hands down Kay's back, over his waistcoat, to squeeze his arse through his trousers. Then to the front, to tug said trousers open and finally free his aching member.
“Hello, my friend,” said Barir with a grin, taking hold of him.
Kay rather felt that he would go off at any moment, just at the sight of Barir lying there so flushed and eager. He quickly coated his prick with vaseline, then settled back between Barir's legs.
“Are you…”
“My dear fellow, if you don't sod me in the next few moments I shall go mad.”
Kay huffed a laugh, all of his nerves dissipating all at once. “Very well.”
Good lord, it was… overwhelming. Hot, tight, exquisite pressure. Barir closed his eyes, making soft, desperate noises; Kay could not bear to close his own, wanting to remember as many details as he could. He pushed into Barir slowly, until finally he was fully seated.
“Barir,” he managed to say, “Barir, my god.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Barir, rather breathlessly. He opened his eyes. “Please move.”
Kay did, a little tentatively at first, still not entirely convinced that this wouldn't hurt Barir. And then more, and more, holding one of Barir's slim thighs, Barir's heels digging into his back, Barir's panting breath at his ear.
“Kay, Kay, Kay, Kay,” he was saying, over and over. “Fuck, you feel— don't stop—”
“Barir.”
Kay was utterly lost in sensation, in the impossible closeness of it. He crushed his mouth to Barir's, as though he could press himself right inside his skin. He drove into Barir desperately, something inside him winding tighter and tighter until, like a too-taut violin string, it snapped. His crisis hit him all at once, his cry of pleasure muffled against Barir's mouth.
“Fuck,” he managed to say afterwards.
“It certainly was,” said Barir. When Kay looked at him his eyes were shining, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was quite the most beautiful thing Kay had ever seen. “That was magnificent. I hope your research was satisfactory?” He stretched a little, and Kay felt his cock press up against his stomach.
“Perfectly satisfactory, as I'm sure you realise. Allow me,” he said. He shifted off Barir to lie beside him, propped on one elbow so that he could watch his face while he frigged his cock. Barir lasted barely a few minutes, rocking into Kay's hand and clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his cry as he spent all over his stomach and Kay's hand.
For a few moments they lay quietly on the rug, in the dimming light and warmth of the fire, Kay's hand on Barir's stomach, Barir's fingers sliding beneath Kay's shirt to trace patterns on his back. Eventually he stirred.
“This floor is becoming jolly uncomfortable,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “My back is going to give me grief tomorrow.”
“I'm sure my knees will be much the same.” Laboriously Kay got to his feet, his knees already stiff, and helped Barir up. On the mantelpiece the clock ticked to half-past two. He leaned down and kissed him. “Come. Time for bed.”
