plaguedrat | [for Marius

He likes Rat's laugh; likes the way it echoes into his own mouth as their lips push and pull together. He grins into the kiss, letting out a small giggle of his own. The warmth of their skin pressed together and the pressure wrought by the lack of space between them leaves him breathless; he tentatively lifts his own hips in response, testing out the pressure and the closeness of them, marveling at how much he enjoys it. He knows this is a man, this is Rat, that he's kissing; that their hands entwine as Rat inspires this desire, this wanting, in him.

"Thank you," he replies, glancing up into his eyes with awe in his own.

"How do you like it?" Rat asked, even as he knew they'd be restricted. He hadn't thought to grab lubrication or protection at the start of this jaunt and Marius looked as though he must be uneducated in fucking men.

"Blow jobs?" he teased, dropping kisses down Marius' chest.

Marius is uneducated in fucking in general; this moment with Rat is the most intimate he's gotten with any other human being in his life. Back in Paris, he could hardly fathom such proximity before marriage, let alone with another man. But now, in this moment, he finds he's been craving this sort of closeness for longer than he realizes.

He grins up at Rat, breathless, and just as drunk on the feeling of their skin pressed together as much as the liquor in his body. "I like this a lot," he admits.

He lets out soft, little noises at the kisses the other man places down his chest; he just can't seem to get enough of him.

"I don't even know what those are," he says, giggling a bit.

"You don't..." Rat paused and look at him, his hazy eyes focusing a little before he laughed. "You've never been with a lover have you?"

He couldn't find it in him to tease. Instead, he found poetry, searched his memory and found W.H. Auden. Leaning close to Marius' ear, he whispered, "We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch...All fact contact, the attack and the interlock...Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch...Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock." It's passionate, erotic, powerful.

When they were sober, he would be interested in seeing if Marius was curious about more than poetry.

"No," Marius says, feeling his face flush bright at the admission, giggling a bit in a way he wouldn't have if he were sober. "I suppose it's rather obvious, isn't it?"

His breath catches again, at the sudden flow of words, deliberate, poised words that coil in his ears the same way tightness unfurls in his chest. He can't help but lean in closer to Rat as he speaks, wanting the words to embed in his skin. He lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan, leaning up to kiss the other man's neck.

He realizes, in the way his skin trembles, that his dizziness would remain even if he were sober.

"God," is all he can manage, breathing the word against Rat's skin.

"What do you know of poetry?" he asked, dropping kisses down Marius' neck and shoulder. There was no rush to what he did, but it wasn't lazy either. There was a certain sense of urgency, of want.

Again, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, was that sense of loss and grief. But also desire, the sense that he couldn't grieve forever.

"He's not here right now," Rat warned of Marius' prayer.

Poetry, of the French, German, and English varieties, was once Marius' sole companion during long nights of translation. He knows it intimately well, one could argue. Right now, though, he struggles just to keep his thoughts from mirroring the small, incoherent noises escaping him at the sensation of Rat's lips moving down his neck and shoulders.

"There is love, I hear his tongue," he manages after a few moments of trying to catch his breath. He moves to nose at the side of Rat's cheek, beginning to return the favor as his lips press slowly down his face.

"There his charming nest doth lay," he murmurs in between kisses as deliberate and wanting as the other man's. "There he sleeps the night away." He can't keep himself from leaning forward, kissing messily as he continues his path down Rat's neck. "There he sports along the day and doth among our branches play."

This was interesting pillow talk indeed. It was nice to have a match of wits, even as he longed to put his hands down Marius' pants, to feel him. "I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair," he whispered, finding more poetry. "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets."

He could feel the whiskey wearing off, replaced by the heady dizziness of lust. The kisses, soft along his neck, brought a flush to his skin that rose up in goosebumps when a kiss brushed close to the bullet scar in his shoulder. "Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day...I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps."

Predatory, wanting, and longing to be wanted. It pushed his resolve away.

Marius' mind is a haze of verse and desire; the fog it overwhelms him and lies heavy on his chest. He breathes a like man thirsting for water with each word that Rat speaks to him, lovely and lilting like a lullaby.

"Drink to me, only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine," he responds, breathy as he keeps kissing along his neck, pausing when his lips get stuck on a particular patch of skin. "Or leave but a kiss in the cup and I'll not look for wine."

As he brings his lips back up to kiss the other man on the lips he thinks he could get drunk just on the flush of Rat's skin alone.

He turned his head, crashed them together. There was no hiding his arousal pressed against Marius' leg; there was no reason to try. "I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest," he said, as much a quote as a genuine invitation. He took one of those hands and pressed it against his own abdomen. If Marius wanted him, he would give. Even as cool air cleared his head, Rat was still swept in it, for a moment that he might forget his loneliness.

"Hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails," Rat said, biting down on the juncture of neck and shoulder with the intent to leave a mark. "I want to eat your skin like a whole almond."

Marius' feels Rat's hardness against him; his eyes widen at the feeling, even as he knows his own arousal, evident in the sudden constriction of his pants, must press against the other man's body in turn. It makes his stomach clench as tightly as his chest, and makes the air flow ragged through his lungs. "Drunk as drunk on turpentine from your open kisses," he replies, his voice barely recognizable from desire.

He presses his hand firm against Rat's abdomen, drawn in by the warmth and the strength he finds in his skin; it licks at him like a flame, and he cannot help but slowly move his hand down farther, as he brings his other hand to brush against Rat's cheek. He can barely recall the rest of the poem.

"Your wet body wedged between my wet body and the strake of our boat that is made of flowers, ah," he finishes on a gasp as Rat bites down on the sensitive skin of his neck; a swan's neck that arches at such a sensation, as his gasp dissolves into a moan.

Rat hummed in reply, letting poetry fall to the side for the moment. Now was the moment for prose, for seriousness, even as erotic hungry words curled through his ears like sweet music. Shifting to his side, Rat lay down, facing Marius and twining their fingers.

"What do you want?" he asked. Half-sobered and all too aroused, he had to ask it now before he lost all good sense and let himself be taken over. Marius had already said he had never been with a lover and Rat knew he was too damaged to be someone's first.

He whines a bit when Rat pulls away, mourning the sudden space between them even as he appreciates being able to breathe almost properly again. Even when they aren't quoting verses at each other, Marius can still feel the ebb of unspoken words between them, like the tide lapping at the shore.

He glances at their entwined fingers, feels his mouth stretch into a lopsided grin at the sight. His eyes flicker to Rat, the way he looks laying across from him. His breath catches again; he's trying to think with more than just his desire, trying to be truthful.

As intoxicated as he'd been when they stumbled through the door, Marius finds himself sober enough to recognize the weight of every feeling running through him.

He has to think about the question for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tries to form an answer.

Leaning in, he steals another kiss from Rat before he can help himself.

"You," he answers, voice raw and breathless.

Edited 2015-04-17 01:57 (UTC)

"Then you'll have me," he said. They just wanted, for one night, not to be trapped in grief. Even as Rat's mind warned him away from all of it, his heart and body wanted.

Careful to keep his back and its myriad scars from quite entering Marius' field of vision, he slunk closer again for another kiss while a hand traveled down from his chest to the clasp of Marius' pants. For a second, he cupped Marius through his pants, just watching his reaction, then he flicked open the clasp and shifted, edging fingers under the hem.

Touching lower, not quite grasping, still watching, Rat shifted to straddle against Marius' thigh until he was not quite perched on him.

Marius breathes in relief at Rat's answer; he wants more than he can really say right now. He senses a similar wanting in the other man, in the way they gravitate towards each other in the wake of loneliness. His heart pounds so loudly in his chest; he wonders if Rat can hear it.

He gasps at his hand on him, leaning into his touch. Marius has never felt another's touch in this way, and just this brief tease makes him want more.

He lets out small, whimpering noises as Rat touches, yet not quite grasps him; he brings a hand to the other man's chest, reaching for warm flesh - craving to touch as he's being touched.

Rat tilted his head up and caught Marius' hand, raising his palm to kiss it before dropping more down his chest and stomach. He turned and left the smallest bite on Marius' hip before sliding his trousers down so that Rat could grasp him properly, callused hands sliding up the shaft.

"All right?" he asked. Rat knew too many people and times, at home, that sex could be an unpleasant experience.

Not here.

Even just the kiss on his palm makes his eyelids flutter and his breath catch again; each small gesture resonates through him in ways he doesn't expect. He tenses, lets his fingers twist in the sheets the further Rat moves down his body, with kisses as intoxicating as the wine he'd drank earlier. But he is aware now; aware of every moment between them, which only heightens each sensation.

He shifts his hips to help the other man slide his pants down, groaning when he grasps him fully.

"Y-yes," he says, voice ragged and eager for more of Rat's touch. He still doesn't really know what to expect, but he does enjoy this. Greatly.

There was something mischievous in Rat's eyes as he stroked Marius a few times, watching for pleasure or hesitation. He kept the motion going in a smooth rhythm, teasing now and then with a thumb over the head or against the slit.

When Marius stayed pliant and enthusiastic, Rat lifted his head and added a few kisses along the shaft, closing his mouth slightly over the tip. He kept his eyes on Marius' face even then, still watching.

He starts moving his hips towards Rat's touch, the rest of him squirming and increasingly desperate as he continues his stroking. He can't take his eyes away from the other man's gaze; the impish glint to them hypnotizing him. He moans, which rise in pitch and length each time Rat's thumb swipes across the head of his cock. "Please," he breathes, skin shining with sweat.

And then Rat's mouth is kissing up the side of him, before slightly closing over the very tip. Marius loses all semblance of control then, back arching up as his hands dig into the sheets around him.

"Rat," he moans, before dissolving into a string of incoherent, desperate French; he can't even think in English. All he knows is the sensation of the other man's mouth around him, and how much he needs more of it.

He let the French wash across his skin, recognizing the sounds but not understanding. Teasing a little, he pinned Marius' hips with his hands as he sank his head down further. When he felt Marius against the back of his mouth, Rat let him move again, head rising and falling with his movements.

There was something about the sound of his voice that made Rat ache. In his time here, Rat hadn't had a vocal partner. Grey had only had the power of speech once and to hear someone come undone this way...It sent a thrill down to his gut.

He feels like he could fall out of his own skin with the sensations Rat inspires within him; he can't stop shivering, nor can he keep himself quiet. He tries to at least soften the noise by biting down on his bottom lip, but ultimately he can't contain all his moaning, nor the desperate whimpers that escape in between. He feels his whole body blush when Rat pins him down by the hips; his head falls back against the pillow, neck arching as he lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a gasp. God, but he really enjoyed that.

"Rat," he manages to cry out among a string of French curses and general nonsense, bringing his hands to tug at the other man's hair when he's able to move again. The movements of his hips become increasingly erratic as Rat takes him in deeper; he's not going to last much longer, he can feel it.

"Rat," he cries out again, voice cracking as he digs his fingers in the man's hair.

Rat pulled back slightly, just enough that he had room to nod. The ragged voice above him, the hands tangled in his hair, they all spurred him on. His head moved shallowly up and down now, timed with a hand wrapped around the other man's cock where his mouth couldn't cover.

Yes. Go ahead, his expression explained. He knew that tone of voice, knew that Marius would come quickly.

Marius tightens his grip in Rat's hair, unable to contain himself any longer; entirely overwhelmed as he is by the dual sensation of the other man's mouth and hand on him. He breaks at the expression in Rat's eyes, back arching and entire body shuddering as his release hits him. He moans Rat's name, long and loud before it dissolves into French incoherence.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks he ought to be ashamed of his own wantonness. Blessedly, his own pleasure covers such thoughts in a fog, as he comes down from the high of his orgasm, trembling all over.

"Oh," is all he can manage, when he can finally breathe properly again.

Rat swallowed and rested there a second, hands moving down to Marius' hips almost gently. Then he lifted his head, deliberately licking his lips as he made eye contact.

"Oh?" he repeated, moving up along Marius' body and tucking into his side. His own erection pressed against Marius' thigh, but Rat let him decide what he wanted to do with that.

"Fuck," the word slips out of his mouth, barely audible, at the sight of Rat licking his lips. He feels as though he's made of the ether of clouds, light and drifting in pleasure.

The weight of the man's erection against his thigh grounds him again; his head cleared a bit, he leans up to kiss Rat, slow, greedy - deliberate and hungry. He tastes himself on the other man's tongue which feels strange, at first. But Marius ignores the strangeness for the certainty of the kiss, the pressing of their lips together. He drags one hand down Rat's chest, fingers digging into his skin a bit before reaching his erection, still clothed.

He starts to stroke him, trying to copy the other man's movements and pace. He wants to bring him as much pleasure as he bestowed upon him. He wants to hear what kind of noises he makes; see what he looks like when he comes undone.

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