The Master of Ceremonies (
i_am_your_host) wrote2016-12-27 02:18 am
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OOM - upstairs with Sinric
During Emcee's recovery in his room, he became a recluse. He couldn't find the motivation to go downstairs (too tired, too lazy, too sad, too unsure of himself), so he would ask George to see if any of his friends were around. To talk, and perhaps to let the talking lead to other things. Jay, Sinric...even Eric.
At least, he thought, he might be ready to take up his other old habits.
(He wasn't certain if he could feel Eric's presence. It might have just been wishful thinking. Or not.)
As it happens, Sinric is in the bar when George goes on this particular errand. He floats up to the long-haired blond and chirps out the sounds Emm See! at him, and moves backward toward the stairs as a gesture to follow.
At least, he thought, he might be ready to take up his other old habits.
(He wasn't certain if he could feel Eric's presence. It might have just been wishful thinking. Or not.)
As it happens, Sinric is in the bar when George goes on this particular errand. He floats up to the long-haired blond and chirps out the sounds Emm See! at him, and moves backward toward the stairs as a gesture to follow.
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His clever fingers find the knot of nerves just at the base of the head of Emcee's manhood, massaging it just so.
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His own fingertip slides back and forth over his perineum with a come hither motion, his palm rubbing against his flesh.
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He swaps hands, bring his slickened fingers to his lips with a joyous whimper.
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"Will you ride me, darling?" he asks him breathlessly.
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"Oh yes! Please, my mirror!"
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He moves his hand from between Sinric's thighs before resting both on his slender hips. Nestling back comfortably against the cushions, he spreads his knees wider.
He looks up at Sinric with dark, lusty eyes and licks his lips.
"Put me inside you."
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One hand holding Emcee's manhood in place, he lowers himself slow, so slowly onto Emcee. Panting warmly and roughly as he feels himself opening to the heft of him.
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"Yes... Oh, yes..."
He trembles with the strain of holding back. It's an exhilarating sort of tension.
It makes him feel alive.
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Fully seated, he arches back with a gasp. "Yes!"
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He starts to move slowly, his hands stroking down Emcee's chest and up again, trailing his nails.
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Emcee can sense Sinric's urge to go faster; he feels the same thing. But just a little longer like this...
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Wrapping his arms around his lithe body, he begins to thrust in earnest. A release of a different kind, a cathartic unleashing of desire and passion that lay dormant, buried under doubt and worry and self-pity.
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He starts to unravel. This is what he wanted, this is what he needed. For everything to come undone, to show himself as he was and is, his lust raw and bare.
"Oh, Sinric--!" he gasps into the pit of his throat.
Harder, faster, rushing toward the edge...
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His own crest is there on the horizon, rushing at him like a wave. "Emcee!"
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He grasps Sinric's hips firmly, and he thoroughly, absolutely fucks him.
And he throws his head back against the cushions with shouts of ecstasy, louder and louder and rising in pitch until--
He comes, hard, pulling Sinric down onto his cock and holding him there.
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He spins, his head in a whirl as he falls into Emcee's arms, boneless and kittenish, mewing as little ripples of pleasure, like aftershocks flicker through him.
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He isn't quite sure what that feeling was. Perhaps Eric is still within him, in a way.
He kisses Sinric's hair and closes his eyes, catching his breath.
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He comes back to himself slowly, his fingers tracing pattens over Emcee's skin, sweat cooling on both of them. He is warm and content and happy to stay just here until they're both ready to move.
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They share a few moments of silence and stillness, except for the idle movements of fingers on each other's skin and in their hair.
"That was beautiful, darling," he murmurs, his voice slightly raspy. "Are you all right?"
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