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[Harry is self aware enough to recognise that the situation is funny, so he doesn't take offense. He just laughs softly along with Tim, still smiling into the kiss until his nipple is tweaked. At that he shudders and makes a low, desperate sort of noise back in his throat. Everything about this encounter is forcing him to reconsider what he thought was possible with a man.

Harry nods, shivering again under Tim's hands. He licks his lips and casts a quick glance around, half expecting to see the shadows of men. He looks back and then moves quickly to lift his ass off the chair and pull his pants down.

Absolutely no erectile dysfunction here, and he's supremely grateful for it. His dick is stiff and throbbing almost painfully. Uncut, perfectly average if perhaps a little thick, he's too aroused to worry if it measures up. Harry reaches again for Tim's hair, pushing it back, eyes searching his face.]

[ Tim's perfectly happy with what he's uncovered, in fact, he's practically beaming when they meet eyes again, eyes dark with desire and mouth wide, smiling. Not a doubt clouding his features or an insecurity closing him off. He looks up at Harry, rubbing his thighs with both hands, making sure he's still enthusiastic as he pulls his socks off, finishing the job, and topping it off with a kiss on his inner thigh, just beyond his knee. And another, further up, and another, a slow, teasing line towards his cock. Lips close on the pale skin only inches from his cock, and he sucks some of it in, determined to leave a little mark of his own that only Harry will see.

He moans into his thigh, not caring if he takes some hair into his mouth as he goes, and detaches with a lewd pop. Meeting his eyes again, Tim laps his tongue over the red mark, and then pauses, just for a moment. Deciding whether to protect Harry's perception of him as a virtuous man with decorum, or submit to his own base, filthy instincts.

It's never much of a debate, in the end. He reaches up, fingers sliding through the other's treasure trail, and holds his palm open slightly cupped. ]

Spit.

[It's through an incredible feat of will that Harry does not say something stupid like 'goodness gracious' as Tim gently mauls his thigh. His dick twitches, but he keeps his mouth shut. There is something so insanely erotic about just the look of Tim's beautiful lips against pale skin and dark hair.

And when he looks up, his tongue dragging over the mark he's made... Harry legitimately can't breathe for a moment.

He's too overwhelmed to hesitate or ask questions. He spits in Tim's palm. His hands itch to touch him but he keeps them off for the moment.]

Thank you.

[ Softly, as if he's handed him a cup of tea. Tim keeps his face pressed low on his belly, kissing down the trail of hair and into his pubes, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation of it, the pleasant scratch and the musky smell that makes his own cock leak in his pants. One handed, he unbuttons himself and takes it out, giving him room to breathe but not touching himself otherwise, too focused on Harry.

He wraps his spit-slick hand around his base and pumps, tighter and wetter around the head, where he pushes back the foreskin as if he's unwrapping another gift, eyes sparkling with excitement, flush warming him down to his chest. His eyes don't leave Harry's for a second when he leans towards his cock, his glistening tongue out and eager. Tim takes a few slow licks, savoring the taste with a low, indulgent moan.

He's been thinking about this for days. Stretching around him, tasting his pre and his spit mixed with Tim's, whether he'd be demanding or put him in control. If he kept indulging him and flirting back, he knew he'd find himself right here, sooner or later. Perhaps he was never meant to burn slow, but to be consumed, intensely and immediately or not at all. ]

You can touch me, if you want.

[ Before opening his mouth wide to invite him in properly, suckling at the head with hollowed cheeks and sinking onto him deeper. ]

Edited 2025-04-16 03:25 (UTC)

[He's never done this. It's not even something he'd allowed himself to fantasize about, so Harry is completely unprepared for the reality of the hot, wet heat of Tim's perfect mouth. A strangled gasp escapes his throat at the first touch, and when Tim takes him into his mouth proper he curses softly under his breath.

Given permission, his hands find Tim's hair again at once. Petting, tugging. Unable to keep quiet - ever - he speaks in his soft voice, barely above a whisper.]

Oh, Tim. Darling, darling boy.

[He keeps his eyes locked on Tim's face, his breathing already shallow and rapid.]

Slow, please, I'll not spend so soon.

[ Every sound he makes is a sweeter song than the nostalgic ones that still croon in the background. The gasps and groans are better than Ella or Doris because they're theirs, they're making them together, with Harry's voice and Tim's lavish affection, creating a beautiful thing, a new courtship.

He can still call it that, when he's on his knees already, can't he? The hands in his hair, the parted lips spilling out sweet names, make him sure of that. He hasn't sullied it. This feeling is too pure to be sullied.

Carefully breathing through his nose, Tim affirms his understanding with a low, muffled mmhmm, and squeezes around the base of his cock to keep him from getting too close, too soon. He's not expecting a marathon here - Harry hasn't been touched like this in years, he knows - but he's determined to wring a little more than that out of him. Eyelashes flutter up at him, as he slowly swallows him down, slick and tight, until his cockhead nudges the back of his throat and a thin line of saliva dribbles from the corner of his mouth. For a moment he stays there, honoring the request to cool the pace, savoring the feeling of being filled up and the tickle of hair he's dampened against his nose. ]

Tastes good.

[ The only words he can get out before he goes back in for more, tongue slurping noisily, hotly underneath the head. ]

[The squeeze helps a bit, even as it makes Harry's breath catch in his lungs and his teeth on his lip. He exhales slowly and unsteadily, only to gasp sharply as Tim swallows more of him. The feeling, the visual, it's more than Harry can stand.

His fingers grip Tim's head a little tighter as he pulls off for a moment, staying that way as Tim's tongue drags over his flesh. The muscles of Harry's thighs twitch and he groans, feeling a building sense of pressure at the base of his cock.]

Tim. Oh, God, Tim, please... please. I'm.

[He can barely think. His hips lift as he mindlessly seeks more - hand, mouth, anything. His belly flutters helplessly as his body rushes swiftly to the point of release.

Harry cries out at his climax, fingers tightening convulsively in Tim's hair, hot come jetting from his cock.

His mind goes perfectly, blissfully blank for a moment.

Then he's aware again, oversensitive and breathing hard. Mouth dry, he relaxes his hands to cradle Tim's head gently.]

Oh. I'm so sorry, I...

[Words fail so he just looks at Tim with naked adoration.]

[ Unhanding the base of his cock to hold his trembling thighs down, Tim is undeterred by the warning. In fact, he's grateful for it solely so that he can make a filthy show of it, swirling his tongue around the tip for the precious few moments before Harry finally comes into his waiting mouth, open and tongue out.

He stays until he's sure he's milked every last drop, sucking him down a few more times just to be certain, and then scrambles back up into his lap. Tim's still mostly wearing his pants, with his cock pulled out and pre smeared in his treasure trail, but he's well-versed in self-denial, it doesn't seem to bother him. Instead, all his attention is on Harry, his eyes sun bright and adoring as he leans in for a wet kiss, the salty taste of his release still on his tongue. ]

It's okay. [ With an arm around his shoulder and a thumb tapping playfully at his chin. ] I wanted you to feel good. I think I succeeded.

[Tim's back in his lap and all Harry can do is wrap his arms around him. He kisses back, stunned enough it doesn't occur to him be remotely wary of the taste. Somehow it surprises him, but it's not unpleasant when combined with Tim's tongue, his spit.

He laughs softly.]

You have. Very, ah. Very thoroughly.

[Breath slowing, he nuzzles Tim's neck, drawing his lips over his pulse.]

Darling Tim. I'd no idea it could be so pleasurable. So... so intense. You are the most beautiful man.

[He notices the state of Tim's trousers at last and shifts a little under him.]

And indeed an unsatisfied one. May I touch you? Only you must tell me what you like best, should I not discover it. Or if there is something else you'd prefer?

[His body and brain are still both swimming in the post orgasmic haze, but he's eager all the same.]

[ It's so easy to believe the sincerity in every word out of Harry's mouth that it sometimes becomes overwhelming, making him blush more at dearest or darling than he does at having his dick in his mouth. He likes to give his affection through physical intimacy, to let his body do the talking when words fail him and hope the adoration that he gives the flesh bleeds through to the heart. To hear such nakedly vulnerable sentiment cuts through to the soft core of him so much faster.

Just knowing that he's so adored would be enough to satisfy him, truly. But he won't say no, if it would please Harry. ]

You can touch me. [ Humming happily, neck buzzing against his lips. ] Anywhere you want.

[If there is one thing about Harry Goodsir that has never - probably will never - change, it's his sincerity.

Harry liberally licks his palm, then kisses Tim's neck tenderly as he shifts again, getting his arm situated so that he can lightly take his cock in hand. He draws his fingers up experimentally, feeling how slick it already is.]

Many thanks.

[He keeps his mouth on Tim's neck as he begins to stroke him slowly, thumbing the head on the upstroke, all of his movements quite deliberate. It would not be inaccurate to say that he's studying Tim, compiling mental notes of any reactions.

And of course he doesn't shut up.]

You've the loveliest prick. I will no doubt think of it often, when I'm not thinking of your perfect mouth. You dear, sweet boy.

[He nips the skin of Tim's neck, low, where a collar will hide it, before dragging his tongue over the same spot. His grip on Tim's dick firms a little. He isn't well versed sexually, but what he does know is handjobs.]

[ He inhales sharply as he feels the hand around him, neck craning to allow Harry more of his neck, more of - anything he wants. Tim's legs spread as much as they're able while he's still perched pretty in his lap, his body offered on a platter.

Fingers tangle through his hair, keeping him there against Tim's neck as he leans into the kisses, unashamed to push for more the way a puppy might, asking for a kiss or a touch direct from the source. If Harry's pressed there, perhaps he won't see the far more telling way his face grows hot with praise, even if he can't hide how it makes him leak into his hand. That's what makes him moan and rock into his hand, what makes his eyes well up with the emotion of being wanted so deeply, so completely, so quickly. ]

Harry.

[ A whisper, a moan, a prayer. ]

[Harry's hand continues stroking firmly, the pace varying as he tries to tease more pleasure out of Tim. He's in no apparent rush, although part of him feels he should be. Part of him feels this should be secret, done in the dark as quickly as possible to avoid detection.

But he doesn't want that. He wants Tim straining and panting and close to begging. He wants to enjoy giving as much pleasure as Tim gave him.

Harry's voice remains as soft and calm as ever when he spaks.]

Next time, you'll be properly unclothed. I can't bear to move you, not now, but I must see every lovely inch of you. My dearest, most beautiful boy.

[His hand moves faster more consistently now, his other arm still wrapped around Tim tightly.]

You are so good, Tim. So very, very good.

[ Back home, he'd put the radio on so that the neighbors wouldn't hear. Hawk had bought it for him, after the first time he'd come over, and the volume of his moaning made it so he had to jerk Tim off with one hand and cover his mouth with the other. The danger of being caught is over now, he can take his time, he can let his lovers know with every rumbling groan and keening gasp how good he feels. The music can just be music, a romantic soundtrack to their lovemaking and not a reminder of how wrong it all is.

Harry wants panting and he gets it, a shivering, vocal exhale growing higher and faster as he works him over. His grip grows tighter in his hair, tighter than he means it to, but he needs something, anything to ground him so that he can stay in this moment just a little longer, indulge in all the sweet praise that's tickling his ear. Tim the false idol, Tim the witch, you'd think, listening to Harry talk. As if he’s put a spell on him. ]

You can. I want you to. Harry, you-- Harry!

[ He comes with a gasp, making a mess in the other man's fingers and thrusting into them as he rides it out. Thighs shaking, he pulls Harry's head up to face him again and descends on him for a filthy kiss, tracing every bit of his mouth with his tongue, and then grabbing his wrist and pulling his sticky hand to his mouth to do the same. ]

[The fingers pulling his hair does something for him, igniting a hot spark deep in his belly. But then Tim's hips are jerking and his cock spurting and he's saying Harry and it captures all of his attention.

His name on Tim's tongue is a far sweeter song than any music.

He kisses back like it's his last chance, then just stares as Tim licks his own spunk off Harry's fingers. Harry's dick gives an interested twitch, but he ignores it and hauls Tim in for yet another kiss. Wet, still, but slow.

Eventually he winds down, placing softer, shorter kisses along Tim's jawline.]

I can scarce believe you're real, Tim, so beautiful are you.

[ So perfectly helpful, cleaning his fingers off for him, pushing the cum into his mouth with his tongue so that he won't be deprived of the taste of him, so that a little piece of Tim will live inside of him for a while. Mark his insides, make him his. He shouldn't be thinking like that, it's too soon, he can feel his heart flutter against its eternal trap of giving everything or nothing at all - but he can't help it, when Harry talks like that, as if he's this perfect thing, worthy of his worship. He says it all as if it's fact, it's hard not to believe it. ]

You're too sweet to me. I'll get a big head.

[ The post-orgasm shiver gives way to a heavy, warm feeling. He thinks he could drift off for a while right here in Harry's lap and he wouldn't refuse him, but the bed looks more appealing, neatly made and with room to stretch out, cuddle, discover how their bodies fit.

Tim kisses Harry once more before carefully standing up from his spot in his lap, his soft cock comically dangling out of his pants. He stuffs it back into his underwear, but pulls the jeans off, folding them precisely and laying them next to his sweater. On second thought, he decides to take off his boxer-briefs too. Harry had wanted to see the rest of him, hadn't he? He does a little turn for him, too flooded with endorphins to feel self-conscious about it. ]

Can we lay down for a while?

[Deprived of his lap full of Tim, Harry has a moment to just sit there and absorb the fact that this actually happened. Getting it straight in his mind is like trying to fit some unwieldy object through a doorway.

Tim undresses, the opposite of what Harry had expected, and he can only gaze at his form with an eye both clinical and admiring. He looks perfect.]

Hm? Oh. Oh, yes, of course.

[He has to force himself up off the chair and resist the urge to cover up immediately. He makes it to the bed and lays down with a sigh, turning onto his side so he can look at Tim. He feels he could do that for hours.

When Tim settles beside him, Harry lifts a hand to push his hair back softly, then to very tentatively run over one well defined shoulder. Smooth. Perfect. His eyes flick about, eating up the sight of Tim all over again.

He chuckles nervously.]

I don't know what to say.

[ It’s not because of vanity that Tim knows he likes what he sees, even when he’s turned away so that he can’t see his expression. It’s because of faith. Harry has been nothing but sweet and adoring towards him, seen him vulnerable and angry and now whorish, and had nothing but tenderness in response. He’s sure not changing his mind over an eyeful of his ass, which even Tim can’t be so modest as not to admit it’s a nice one.

He settles in, grinning, one arm under the pillow to prop up his head and the other around Harry’s middle, tracing lazy patterns on his back with his fingertips. ]

You can say anything. [ Softly, big doe eyes of his warm and content, the hunger faded but something needy in them, still. ] You can say...this feels good. Or you’d like to see me again, soon. Or...my chest looks like a cozy pillow.

[ Or when feelings are hard to describe, there's always yapping. ]

...I had a friend that used to sing this song. Back home. At a club. Oh, um... [ Puckering his lips, exaggerated, trying to recall the phrase. ] You would have called it a molly house, I think?

[Tim's physical presence is so vital, so strong. The muscular angles of his body, the easy warmth, the glow of good health. Harry can't focus on it too deeply or he might actually weep, and he doesn't want to do that. It's just been so long since he's seen a body that isn't actively deteriorating.

For a nightmarish moment he thinks of what lurks beneath that soft skin and he has to close his eyes momentarily. But he reopens them and finds a smile.]

All of those things are true.

[At that Harry's eyebrows lift. His cheeks turn faintly pink. ]

I am familiar with such places, yes. A place for, ah. Well. I am familiar.

[As good as a confession, really, to having been to such an establishment.]

Go on.

[ Harry's closes his eyes, and he wonders where his head goes, but he doesn't try. Tim just leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead, and keeps talking, pulling his focus back. ]

Hawk used to take me there. The only place other than our apartments where we could even hint at knowing each other beyond just colleagues. I got to know one of the employees, Frankie. He sang dressed as a woman, with a woman who was dressed as a man. He's a really nice guy, he gave me some advice I should have paid better attention to.

[ or maybe he's just fine the way he is. The Cozy Corner feels a world away now, along with all the petty dramas he was upset about back then. ]

Anyway. He loves this song. Guess I'm feeling nostalgic.

We had people who did that in my time. It's strangely comforting to know that the... tradition? Continues. People really don't change, do they? Just the trappings.

[He drags clever fingers over Tim's collarbones.]

What is the name of this song? I'm sorry I don't know any of them. Yet. I shall, I think, eventually.

I'm so very curious about it all. I think there must be music from so many places, too. Other countries.

[ Tim hums, looking thoughtful. It’s only here that he’s been able to put his sexuality and others like it into any kind of historical context, thinking of it before as just his sin, his burden to overcome. But Harry hails from a hundred years before him, and a hundred years before that there were other men sneaking around in the dark, looking at each other with the loving expressions that they both wear now, weighing the dangers against the pleasures and choosing the latter. It is a comfort. God makes some people this way, and always has. It’s no sin to admit to it. ]

I guess not. That is kind of comforting.
[ Also comforting, snuggling in closer to bury his head into the crook of his neck. He can smell a little more sweat on his skin now than when he arrived, but that pleases him. ]

This one’s called Land of Love. You can borrow this, if you want to get familiar. I brought the charger and the ear buds, they’re in the bag. It’s got more modern stuff on it, too.

[ Fingers trailing lower, feather-light over the curve of his ass. Simply learning the shape of him. ]

I’ll try my best to answer anything you want to know.

[Cuddling is so new. He tenses for a second but relaxes the next, cautiously draping an arm over Tim's waist.

He can smell Tim's hair and it is soothing. He kisses the top of his head softly, enjoying having him so close. Slowly, he lets his ankle hook over Tim's calf.]

'Land of Love.' I like that. Very much.

You wouldn't mind? And the library, perhaps it has more devices like this or the ah, radio?

[He goes quiet, keeping Tim close but not quite daring to run his hands over his body like he wants to. When he does speak again his voice is even softer than usual.]

I don't understand why you allow me this... this closeness. And please, no flattery, I don't require it. I just... I just don't understand. But I'm ever so grateful.

[The arm around Tim's waist tightens a little.]

It's difficult to remember how much good there is in the human heart. I believed it so easily, once. But I've been poisoned, Tim.

[He laughs, suddenly aware of what he's just said.]

Ah. Yes. But I think you understand my meaning. You remind me of the good, is what I mean to say.

You're free to it whenever you want.

[ No flattery, when every other word from his mouth is to sing Tim's praises. He can't help but chuckle at it. ]

Is it flattery just to tell you that I like it? I like you, and I like this.

[ ’I’ve been poisoned.’ It hurts his heart to hear him speak like that, this kind, gentle man, who hasn’t had an unkind word for anyone in the entire time he’s known him. Tim’s instinct is to argue, to convince him that he knows better, but deep down, he knows it’s not so different from what he confessed to Koby during the wolf games. Under dire circumstances, he’d become the worst version of himself, darkened his soul with things that can’t be washed away. It had only been a month. What if he’d endured the horrors for as long as Harry had? His spirit would have been chipped away until there was nothing left. ]

Poisoning is a good word for it. Because it’s not really you, it didn’t come from you. Your environment changed you. Made you do terrible things. But you can recover.

[ Tim pulls apart from him, just a bit, enough to pull the blankets over them. Keep his crisis of faith, his selfishness, his imperfections warm inside of him where they belong. If the illusion of his perfection gives Harry comfort, he’ll maintain it. ]

If I can help you do that, I’ll have done more good here than bad.

You are too kind. And no, I suppose it isn't. Thank you.

[The blankets help. He no longer feels as exposed, and his body gives up more tension. He pulls Tim back to him and he props himself up enough to kiss him lightly.

He wouldn't bat an eye at Tim's supposed imperfections, that's the truth of the matter.]

I wonder.

[He leans down and kisses Tim once more, one hand cradling his face. He means for it to be soft, sweet, but in a very short amount of time he's licking his way into Tim's mouth. He feels feverish with not lust but desire, something bigger than just wanting Tim's body.

It's no wonder Hawk warned him not to fall in love with Tim. It would be so very, very easy to do.]

Edited 2025-04-17 23:22 (UTC)

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