[ eggsy doesn't take off his jumper and while thomas wouldn't have minded the immediate access and the sight of eggsy shirtless, he's quite content with the unhurried pace they're setting. there's something to be said for simply trading kisses and touches without a need for immediate gratification.
perhaps that's his age talking, he's not quite sure -- but he enjoys this. enjoys, too, seeing the dusting of pink in eggsy's cheeks.
when eggsy's fingers find his collarbone, thomas smiles. it seems they're both thinking of the first night. it's easy, then, to just kiss eggsy again and then again, deep and firm but comparatively chaste, intense in duration and intent more than in urgency. ]
[ it's surprisingly nice for eggsy, who so rarely slows down, to decelerate. although he wouldn't describe himself as impatient, he's certain others (rightly) would. this is different. he's shagged plenty of people since the world ended, but he hasn't lingered like this. comfortably flush against thomas, he can't think of anything compelling enough to pull him elsewhere, even if the friction sparking every time he shifts on thomas' lap suggests he wouldn't mind quickening the pace, either.
he can feel thomas smile on his mouth, so eggsy pushes a little more, nipping at his lower lip and then immediately leaning forward to kiss him again. ]
[ thomas doesn't moan, not quite, at the nip of teeth on his lower lip, but he lets out a soft noise that's half pleasure and half encouragement, shifting underneath eggsy to bring them both closer, their bodies slotted together both comfortably and firmly.
he suspects that eggsy can feel him growing hard, just as he can feel that eggsy's a little ahead of him in that regard -- and still thomas doesn't let the kiss speed up. ]
[ now it's like the other night, with eggsy hungrily swallowing the attractive noise thomas makes. he hums, pleased by the reaction and the subsequent pull nearer. yeah, he feels thomas growing hard — yet he doesn't fidget, not like eggsy does, rocking his hips. god, maybe he is impatient. their speed settles once more, evening out as thomas doesn't give chase to eggsy's little trick. he nearly says something, but that would mean less kissing.
instead, he threads his fingers through thomas' own and tugs their linked hands around to settle on his arse. ]
[ perhaps thomas is more patient, or perhaps it's simply age that makes a difference in urgency -- but eggsy leads thomas' hand to his arse and there's another noise that thomas cannot swallow, that he doesn't try to swallow, all appreciation this time, his fingers curling over the muscle there.
curling there, and pulling eggsy very firmly closer, hips tipping up just so to meet eggsy's. it seems even an old dog can turn impatient. ]
[ the combination of thomas letting go enough not to choke down a satisfied noise and following his lead (going beyond it, really, given the feel of his strong hand and the stutter of his hips to meet eggsy’s own in a slow grind) — it makes eggsy moan outright. somehow, thomas still manages to surprise him with bold moves like this. hell, it might be embarrassing if thomas hadn’t heard him far louder and more wanton before now. he indulges in a more insistent kiss this time, bringing his hand back to thomas’ collar to trail it down his skin until he needs to pop more buttons for greater access. ]
Thought I might be the only one gagging for it.
[ an intentional word choice, sounding utterly pleased with himself (if a shade breathy). he wonders if thomas realised how much of a handful (lapful?) he has in his life. ]
[ thomas is not a silent bed partner -- or armchair partner, as the case may be -- but while he makes plenty of noises, they're usually quite reserved. quiet, on the whole. eggsy's moan is anything but and the sound goes straight to thomas' cock. it twitches against eggsy's thigh as it fills out, the material of thomas' suit -- though thicker than the linen he'd worn the last time -- doing little to hide the movement or the effect eggsy's proximity and their kissing is having on him.
gagging. thomas has to close his eyes for a moment and swallow. ]
[ eggsy can feel (and appreciate) the physical signs of thomas' interest in him, particularly at present, when they're grinding together for relief through his terribly fine suit and eggsy's plain clothes. still, he likes hearing thomas. a single hardly has him chuffed (and stokes the heat in his gut). he kisses along thomas' jaw, then open-mouthed at his throat, hands still idly roaming his chest, brushing over thick fabric until they playfully hook on the waistband of his trousers. ]
Good. [ not quite smug but close, murmured against his exposed skin. ] I wanna take care of you this time, Thomas. [ ah, perhaps their earlier conversation (the very reason eggsy came over) is still on his mind. at least in the way that it makes him want to prove his interest in thomas as more than an accidental, quick fuck. his cock is already hard, obvious in his trackies, but — ] Can go slow.
[ yeah, he can take it slow — well, slower. where he'd been desperate and haphazard in the bar or on the verge of coming in thomas' hallway last time, he'd like to act more purposefully, whether that's by slowly wanking thomas off right here, or rutting against him like this indefinitely, or swallowing him down and opening him up. maybe that's partly his age (sending pornographic fantasies splintering off in every direction). ]
[ there's nothing eggsy needs to prove, really -- but while part of thomas wants to protest that he's quite all right, he doesn't need looking after or taking care of, the majority of him simply wants to let eggsy do whatever he'd like, to lean into that warmth and keep kissing and enjoy the way they fit together, their bodies, their lips. if that involves eggsy taking care of him -- rutting like this or swallowing him down and opening him up, well.
thomas will not be complaining. ]
I'd like that. [ he says in the end, voice not as breathless as he feels but close enough, eyes closed even in the breaks between kissing, hands still firm on eggsy's arse. going slow, he means -- but the truth is that he thinks he'd like almost anything, right now.
his head's tipped back, throat exposed. open to eggsy. ]
[ for a moment, the only reply thomas gets is a pleased hum against his skin. then, eggsy drags his teeth over thomas’ throat, biting and sucking hard enough that it might leave a mark. shit, he probably should be more careful about that, given thomas enjoys a level of respectability.
as he kisses over the reddened patch of skin, he keeps his fingers at thomas’s waist, dipping into his trousers to trace the top of his underwear but nothing more. ]
I like how you look. [ he’s far from unaffected, all ragged tones. ] Like this, especially. [ eyes closed, as if the sight of eggsy in addition to everything else might overwhelm him. and a bit breathless, head tipped back invitingly, still so dressed up delightfully mussed beneath eggsy. (god, he doesn’t want to dwell on the somewhat obvious origins of his thing about suits beyond his natural inclination for disrupting all things posh). he doesn’t think about the fact that his hard-on is dampening his trackers, and he hasn’t brought a change of clothes. problems for later. ] And I like it when you tell me how I’m doing — when you tell me what you like.
[ well, of course he has a thing about talking, with his motor mouth. it’s an oblique reference to his specific interest in praise, which is a more embarrassing request to make (even if it might be obvious, when one reviews his interactions with anyone, including thomas). ]
[ a pleased hum is really all the response thomas needs -- but then eggsy drags his teeth over thomas' throat and the sound that escapes thomas at the sensation is at best described as utterly indecent. he does enjoy a level of respectability, but that does not mean he enjoys some debauching as well, and eggsy's teeth against his throat send blood rushing down to his cock, fingers tightening over eggsy's arse.
it takes thomas a moment before he can speak. ]
Yeah?
[ he's not quiet, but he's not the most verbal. still, there's something to be said for obliging his partners. so, after a moment, softly: ] I like what you do.
[ with his head still nestled in the crook of thomas' neck, the grip tightening over his arse makes him stutter down, an instinctive push for friction. that, alongside the words, the brief hesitation, the softness — it all makes eggsy's breath hitch. ]
Yes, Thomas.
[ it's enough, what thomas gives him. he shifts his fingers to unfasten thomas' trousers, intending to slide off his partner's lap and onto his knees shortly. ]
[ it's intoxicating -- the way eggsy reacts, the stutter of his hips against thomas', the yes. thomas wants to hear that word again, with that inflection.
and then there are fingers at his trousers and it's thomas' breath that hitches, hands falling away from eggsy's arse to the sides of the armchair instead to give eggsy room to move. ]
[ eggsy opens his trousers easily enough. the loss of thomas’ hands on him nearly makes him whine, but he’s glad for the implicit encouragement. still, he leans forward to kiss thomas, soft and affectionate, in lieu of doing anything else. finally, he tugs at thomas’s trousers and underwear, bringing them down as much as he can before scooting back and ungracefully stepping off thomas’ lap to sink to his knees in front of the chair — in front of thomas.
jesus, his knees might actually be sore tomorrow. does this count as, like, targeted exercise? ]
Come closer. [ to the edge, so his clothes can come off enough for eggsy to put his mouth to work. ]
[ come closer, eggsy says and thomas wants to obey, really, but -- he needs a moment, first. a moment of just looking at eggsy, mindless of the way his own cock's sprung free, curving toward his stomach and leaking precome at the tip, heavy with arousal, because eggsy looks good like that.
debauched, already.
he swallows, clears his throat, and finally finds the wherewithall to scoot forward on the armchair until he's barely sitting on the edge of it, legs spreading as far as the fact that the trousers of his suit are pooled at his ankles will allow. ]
[ thomas makes a fantastic picture himself: crisp suit rumpled and caught half-undressed.
waiting despite his quickened pulse, eggsy recognises the pause for what it is this time: not hesitation but appreciation. yeah, he's debauched already, mouth reddened and pink suffusing his cheeks and throat, focus fixed on thomas' cock and body angled forward like he's desperate to get his hands on thomas again (he is) — only he'd said he could take it slow. not a promise, exactly, but an offer he intends to fulfill to the best of his ability.
he settles his hands on thomas' legs, smoothing over the soft skin of his inner thigh and then tipping his head to press a kiss there. ]
[ thomas doesn't much care about his own looks, but eggsy? oh, eggsy looks good and thomas cannot help but appreciate that, cannot help but reach out and settle a hand on eggsy's face for a moment, thumb dragging heavily across eggsy's lower lip.
and then he curls it at the nape of eggsy's neck instead and tugs him forward, letting out a soft breath at the kiss against his thigh, the heat of eggy's breath there. ]
[ oh, jesus. he feels hyper-aware of the finger tracing his mouth and the weight of thomas’ gaze. he likes it, knowing that someone’s interested, watching him so intently when he hasn’t even stripped down. he likes the insistent pull forward, too, a grip at the nape of his neck.
the push and pull suits him just fine. he blows air where he just kissed thomas — and recalling his reaction to the bite at his neck, eggsy kisses and sucks there again. and he’ll keep at it, with a mild scrape of teeth in the hopes of earning a similar response. ]
[ it's unfathomable to thomas right now that someone could not want eggsy when he looks like this, when he's bright and sweet and quick with his tongue and on his feet -- but he doesn't linger on that thought, can't when eggsy's mouth finds the sensitive skin of an inner thigh, not for a kiss but to suck and bite.
thomas' cock twitches hopefully against his stomach; thomas' breath hitches for a moment before he lets it out slowly on a soft moan. his fingers slide into eggsy's hair, softly, an encouragement. ]
[ for a moment, he savours the sound, leaning into thomas’ touch, into the smell of him. oh, eggsy’s utterly pleased with himself, eyes sparking in delight (and mischief) as he lifts his head to look up at thomas — to appreciate his handiwork and get enough room to bring his fingers to his mouth. maybe that’s obscene, watching his lips close around anything, at this point. slow is harder to maintain than he thought, so he quickly removes them with a wet pop and settles for licking a lazy stripe up his hand. ]
You can pull it, y’know. [ zing. ] My hair. [ as long as it had been at the start of training, certainly enough to tug. ] I like it.
[ in areas like this, at least, eggsy says what he thinks. with that, he leans forward to wrap his slick fingers around the base of thomas’ cock. ]
[ obscene doesn't even begin to cover it and thomas has to close his eyes for a moment. he's far too old to come simply from an obscene sight, even one as erotic as this, but he thinks if he were a younger man, this might do the trick. as it is, it only feels like a punch to the gut in the best possible way.
he swallows. forces his eyes open again and clears his throat. ]
All right.
[ that's -- good to know, actually. and also entirely too attractive. eggsy's fingers, wet and warm around his cock, are a relief, and thomas lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. ]
[ it's an achievement for eggsy, being so lewd that thomas needs to close his eyes, showing in his little smirk and eager shift closer. he pumps thomas' cock once, twice, fingers only brushing over the head before eggsy ultimately tips forward to swallow him down.
his other hand remains braced on thomas' thigh, a reassuring squeeze. ]
[ thomas keeps his hips still, though it takes some effort, but when eggsy leans in, swallowing him down, he curls his free hand over eggsy's on his thigh, needing something to hold on to and wanting it to be eggsy. ]
[ only thomas could make this kind of sweet, by curling his hand over eggsy's own instead of the arm of the chair. it's all the encouragement eggsy needs to keep at it, swallowing down as much of thomas as he can while his hand takes care of the rest. his eyes flutter closed, focused on as he is on bringing thomas off with his mouth.
this isn't new to eggsy, so he sets an even rhythm, taking more and more. in contrast to last time, he feels in control, not desperate or pushy. this is what he wants — not what he came here for exactly, but he can't complain about the results (the weight and tang of salt in his mouth, the way thomas reacts to him). everything about this is good for him, even with his erection twitching in his loose trousers. ]
[ it's not meant to be sweet, not specifically -- it's not meant to be anything, really, the touch mostly instinct and need. thomas is glad to have done it when eggsy really swallows him down, though, fingers interlacing with eggsy's and holding on tightly as his other hand tightens in eggsy's hair, too, his hips trembling with an effort to keep still.
it's good. of course it is, but beyond the wet heat of eggsy's mouth, the rhythm and eggsy's proximity, knowing whose mouth it is on him, that works for thomas. eggsy sets an even rhythm but it builds and so does the pressure up thomas' spine, his thighs and stomach tense with it, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps.
it isn't quick, not by any stretch of the imagination -- age above a century or at least physically above forty will do that -- but it isn't that long before thomas is moaning, soft iterations of eggsy's name and there, yes, please escaping him. ]
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perhaps that's his age talking, he's not quite sure -- but he enjoys this. enjoys, too, seeing the dusting of pink in eggsy's cheeks.
when eggsy's fingers find his collarbone, thomas smiles. it seems they're both thinking of the first night. it's easy, then, to just kiss eggsy again and then again, deep and firm but comparatively chaste, intense in duration and intent more than in urgency. ]
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he can feel thomas smile on his mouth, so eggsy pushes a little more, nipping at his lower lip and then immediately leaning forward to kiss him again. ]
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he suspects that eggsy can feel him growing hard, just as he can feel that eggsy's a little ahead of him in that regard -- and still thomas doesn't let the kiss speed up. ]
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instead, he threads his fingers through thomas' own and tugs their linked hands around to settle on his arse. ]
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curling there, and pulling eggsy very firmly closer, hips tipping up just so to meet eggsy's. it seems even an old dog can turn impatient. ]
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Thought I might be the only one gagging for it.
[ an intentional word choice, sounding utterly pleased with himself (if a shade breathy). he wonders if thomas realised how much of a handful (lapful?) he has in his life. ]
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gagging. thomas has to close his eyes for a moment and swallow. ]
Hardly.
[ oh, he realises it. quite likes it, in fact. ]
this is a nasty mobile tag yo
Good. [ not quite smug but close, murmured against his exposed skin. ] I wanna take care of you this time, Thomas. [ ah, perhaps their earlier conversation (the very reason eggsy came over) is still on his mind. at least in the way that it makes him want to prove his interest in thomas as more than an accidental, quick fuck. his cock is already hard, obvious in his trackies, but — ] Can go slow.
[ yeah, he can take it slow — well, slower. where he'd been desperate and haphazard in the bar or on the verge of coming in thomas' hallway last time, he'd like to act more purposefully, whether that's by slowly wanking thomas off right here, or rutting against him like this indefinitely, or swallowing him down and opening him up. maybe that's partly his age (sending pornographic fantasies splintering off in every direction). ]
you spoil me :*
thomas will not be complaining. ]
I'd like that. [ he says in the end, voice not as breathless as he feels but close enough, eyes closed even in the breaks between kissing, hands still firm on eggsy's arse. going slow, he means -- but the truth is that he thinks he'd like almost anything, right now.
his head's tipped back, throat exposed. open to eggsy. ]
;)
as he kisses over the reddened patch of skin, he keeps his fingers at thomas’s waist, dipping into his trousers to trace the top of his underwear but nothing more. ]
I like how you look. [ he’s far from unaffected, all ragged tones. ] Like this, especially. [ eyes closed, as if the sight of eggsy in addition to everything else might overwhelm him. and a bit breathless, head tipped back invitingly, still so dressed up delightfully mussed beneath eggsy. (god, he doesn’t want to dwell on the somewhat obvious origins of his thing about suits beyond his natural inclination for disrupting all things posh). he doesn’t think about the fact that his hard-on is dampening his trackers, and he hasn’t brought a change of clothes. problems for later. ] And I like it when you tell me how I’m doing — when you tell me what you like.
[ well, of course he has a thing about talking, with his motor mouth. it’s an oblique reference to his specific interest in praise, which is a more embarrassing request to make (even if it might be obvious, when one reviews his interactions with anyone, including thomas). ]
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it takes thomas a moment before he can speak. ]
Yeah?
[ he's not quiet, but he's not the most verbal. still, there's something to be said for obliging his partners. so, after a moment, softly: ] I like what you do.
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Yes, Thomas.
[ it's enough, what thomas gives him. he shifts his fingers to unfasten thomas' trousers, intending to slide off his partner's lap and onto his knees shortly. ]
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and then there are fingers at his trousers and it's thomas' breath that hitches, hands falling away from eggsy's arse to the sides of the armchair instead to give eggsy room to move. ]
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jesus, his knees might actually be sore tomorrow. does this count as, like, targeted exercise? ]
Come closer. [ to the edge, so his clothes can come off enough for eggsy to put his mouth to work. ]
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debauched, already.
he swallows, clears his throat, and finally finds the wherewithall to scoot forward on the armchair until he's barely sitting on the edge of it, legs spreading as far as the fact that the trousers of his suit are pooled at his ankles will allow. ]
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waiting despite his quickened pulse, eggsy recognises the pause for what it is this time: not hesitation but appreciation. yeah, he's debauched already, mouth reddened and pink suffusing his cheeks and throat, focus fixed on thomas' cock and body angled forward like he's desperate to get his hands on thomas again (he is) — only he'd said he could take it slow. not a promise, exactly, but an offer he intends to fulfill to the best of his ability.
he settles his hands on thomas' legs, smoothing over the soft skin of his inner thigh and then tipping his head to press a kiss there. ]
my most debauched icon
and then he curls it at the nape of eggsy's neck instead and tugs him forward, letting out a soft breath at the kiss against his thigh, the heat of eggy's breath there. ]
SCANDALOUS
the push and pull suits him just fine. he blows air where he just kissed thomas — and recalling his reaction to the bite at his neck, eggsy kisses and sucks there again. and he’ll keep at it, with a mild scrape of teeth in the hopes of earning a similar response. ]
i know right
thomas' cock twitches hopefully against his stomach; thomas' breath hitches for a moment before he lets it out slowly on a soft moan. his fingers slide into eggsy's hair, softly, an encouragement. ]
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You can pull it, y’know. [ zing. ] My hair. [ as long as it had been at the start of training, certainly enough to tug. ] I like it.
[ in areas like this, at least, eggsy says what he thinks. with that, he leans forward to wrap his slick fingers around the base of thomas’ cock. ]
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he swallows. forces his eyes open again and clears his throat. ]
All right.
[ that's -- good to know, actually. and also entirely too attractive. eggsy's fingers, wet and warm around his cock, are a relief, and thomas lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. ]
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his other hand remains braced on thomas' thigh, a reassuring squeeze. ]
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this isn't new to eggsy, so he sets an even rhythm, taking more and more. in contrast to last time, he feels in control, not desperate or pushy. this is what he wants — not what he came here for exactly, but he can't complain about the results (the weight and tang of salt in his mouth, the way thomas reacts to him). everything about this is good for him, even with his erection twitching in his loose trousers. ]
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it's good. of course it is, but beyond the wet heat of eggsy's mouth, the rhythm and eggsy's proximity, knowing whose mouth it is on him, that works for thomas. eggsy sets an even rhythm but it builds and so does the pressure up thomas' spine, his thighs and stomach tense with it, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps.
it isn't quick, not by any stretch of the imagination -- age above a century or at least physically above forty will do that -- but it isn't that long before thomas is moaning, soft iterations of eggsy's name and there, yes, please escaping him. ]
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