”But I –”, Rodyrick started, but that was as far as he got. He was being crushed against a firm male body that promised to be well built indeed under the robe. Even better, this extremely desirable body was inhabited by a very eager Onmund. Why exactly was he protesting this?
He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway of the little chamber. It was still quiet in the hall, no sign that Onmund's moaning and groaning or the glow of the spell-light had alerted anyone.
Still, it would be wise to keep his mouth occupied, in case he was a loud type in general.
Onmund turned out to be a slightly awkward kisser, but what his tongue lacked in agility, Rodyrick could make up for. The scrape of the barely-there stubble on the other mage's face was divine, as were the shudders and the involuntary thrusts of his hips. Rodyrick was just as hard as him by now, and moved against him in return, desiring the friction and the shared feeling of urgency.
Somehow, while occupied by kissing, grabbing a feel of any part of each other within reach, and generally making like sabre cats in heat, Rodyrick managed to get the larger man pinned against the wall. Granted, Onmund had been distracted first by the spell and then by Rodyrick's right hand, which had wedged between them, bunched up the robe and wormed its way underneath. The loincloth was easily moved aside, and Rodyrick hummed in pleasure as he confirmed that Onmund was well built all over.
He stroked up and down the hard length a few times, then paused as he felt more than heard a word grunted into his hair.
”What?”
”Again. The spell.”
He had not exactly planned to use the spell again for this purpose, but then had he planned any of this to begin with? Besides, he relished being able to turn Onmund on so much, feeling him slick and swollen in his grip, and the temptation to push him even further was irresistible.
”Yes. Yes!” The Nord was already bucking against Rodyrick as he gathered the magicka in the middle of his left palm. He pressed it against the small of Onmund's back and released the energy, letting it flood warmth into skin, muscles and nerves.
The results were a pure delight to watch. Held between two focal points of stimulation, Onmund's body tensed and arched uncontrollably. His face contorted into a grimace and then a cry, thankfully mostly silent. Rodyrick fed more golden, throbbing warmth into his system, a burst of it to tilt him over the edge, and was rewarded by an answering thick burst of seed all over his hand and wrist.
Onmund leaned limply into him, panting. As Rodyrick allowed the spell to taper off, he became acutely conscious of how badly he needed release himself. There was little finesse in him grabbing himself through two layers of fabric, and even less in the few rough motions he needed to bring himself to finish. Some other time and place, he might have been embarrassed by spilling it so quickly and easily; this, though, was not one of them.
”Divines.” He felt the moisture of Onmund's breath against his ear. ”You're a mess.”
”So are you.”
”I'll just...” Onmund flashed a rare grin, then spread his arms, looking somewhat at a loss for what to say. ”You know, clean up. Sleep. So, er... thank you.”
”Sure”, Rodyrick muttered back. ”Any time.”
The grin widened, and Rodyrick found himself grinning back. He was still grinning as he flopped star-shaped on his bed, already happily reliving the encounter in his head.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Helping Hands, 3/3.5
Date: 2012-08-02 04:55 pm (UTC)He glanced over his shoulder at the doorway of the little chamber. It was still quiet in the hall, no sign that Onmund's moaning and groaning or the glow of the spell-light had alerted anyone.
Still, it would be wise to keep his mouth occupied, in case he was a loud type in general.
Onmund turned out to be a slightly awkward kisser, but what his tongue lacked in agility, Rodyrick could make up for. The scrape of the barely-there stubble on the other mage's face was divine, as were the shudders and the involuntary thrusts of his hips. Rodyrick was just as hard as him by now, and moved against him in return, desiring the friction and the shared feeling of urgency.
Somehow, while occupied by kissing, grabbing a feel of any part of each other within reach, and generally making like sabre cats in heat, Rodyrick managed to get the larger man pinned against the wall. Granted, Onmund had been distracted first by the spell and then by Rodyrick's right hand, which had wedged between them, bunched up the robe and wormed its way underneath. The loincloth was easily moved aside, and Rodyrick hummed in pleasure as he confirmed that Onmund was well built all over.
He stroked up and down the hard length a few times, then paused as he felt more than heard a word grunted into his hair.
”What?”
”Again. The spell.”
He had not exactly planned to use the spell again for this purpose, but then had he planned any of this to begin with? Besides, he relished being able to turn Onmund on so much, feeling him slick and swollen in his grip, and the temptation to push him even further was irresistible.
”Yes. Yes!” The Nord was already bucking against Rodyrick as he gathered the magicka in the middle of his left palm. He pressed it against the small of Onmund's back and released the energy, letting it flood warmth into skin, muscles and nerves.
The results were a pure delight to watch. Held between two focal points of stimulation, Onmund's body tensed and arched uncontrollably. His face contorted into a grimace and then a cry, thankfully mostly silent. Rodyrick fed more golden, throbbing warmth into his system, a burst of it to tilt him over the edge, and was rewarded by an answering thick burst of seed all over his hand and wrist.
Onmund leaned limply into him, panting. As Rodyrick allowed the spell to taper off, he became acutely conscious of how badly he needed release himself. There was little finesse in him grabbing himself through two layers of fabric, and even less in the few rough motions he needed to bring himself to finish. Some other time and place, he might have been embarrassed by spilling it so quickly and easily; this, though, was not one of them.
”Divines.” He felt the moisture of Onmund's breath against his ear. ”You're a mess.”
”So are you.”
”I'll just...” Onmund flashed a rare grin, then spread his arms, looking somewhat at a loss for what to say. ”You know, clean up. Sleep. So, er... thank you.”
”Sure”, Rodyrick muttered back. ”Any time.”
The grin widened, and Rodyrick found himself grinning back. He was still grinning as he flopped star-shaped on his bed, already happily reliving the encounter in his head.
Cleaning up could well wait until morning.