shadows_have_offended | [for Harry | post Mardi Gras party]

Entry tags:

[for Harry | post Mardi Gras party]

They had to take a taxi back from the party because it was far enough outside of town that walking wasn't necessarily advisable, but that was alright. Neil sticks himself close to Harry in the back of the cab, the way he had after both of their dates, and radiates a subtle, soft affection that comes over him when he's alone with Harry.

Probably, he shouldn't be so easily enamored with people. Probably, someday, it will hurt him. He is, after all, playing a risky game with the casual encounters he has with Elliot and Benjamin, all while letting Harry dote just a little bit of romance at him. But it's terribly nice to be adored, even if he's sure it won't last. Maybe that's self-defeating. At least it's honest.

They arrive at Neil's building and, as always, Harry pays for the taxi. Neil certainly can't complain about that. He worries, occasionally, about the amount that Harry seems willing to pay on him--food and drinks, taxi rides, those sorts of things. But he also can't quite find it in himself to say that he's capable of paying his own way.

Inside the building, inside his apartment, Neil relaxes even more than he'd been at the pool side. He kicks off his shoes, having not put his socks back on after having them in the pool, and strips off his sweater he'd been wearing as well. It lifts his t-shirt briefly, revealing a strip of skin just about his jeans.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"He was a friends," Neil says, but it's an easily distracted moment. There's other, more important things to worry about. Like helping Harry out of his shirt, and tugging at his belt. Leaning in to kiss him and sigh a little as they reach the bed and Neil climbs onto it on his knees, bright and smiling and refusing to give up the kisses.

God, but he's pretty when he smiles like that, Harry thinks and he smiles as he kisses Neil once more. He stays standing for a while, just to enjoy the kisses of a bare-chested young man against his own bare chest. But soon enough he tugs at his waist band and starts to undo Neil's trousers. "Think he minds?" He jokes against the boy's lips.

Given what Neil knew, maybe unfortunately, about Goodnight Robicheaux and Billy Rock's private life, the question just makes Neil laugh again. He shakes his head. He doesn't mention, or even insinuate, that Harry's not the first man he's had in his room since Beau has come to live with him. There's no point in it.

"At least he won't get in the way," Neil says, a little breathless as Harry opens his jeans. "I hear cats do that."

"Never had one," Herry comments, but his thought is not with pets. It's with the boy whose trousers he's removing. He kisses Neil again as his hand teases the boy's cock hidden under his briefs.

Neil just sort of hums. He never had one either, any sort of animal, but really, he just doesn’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe later—Harry is easy to talk to about most everything.

The hum turns into a sigh as Harry touches him. He rocks his hips forward, enthusiastically seeking more.

Harry enjoys every sound uttered, the way Neil moves under his touch and the way he so obviously seeks more touch. It's impossible not to react. Harry kisses him and removes the last of Neil's clothing - the boxer shirt constraining his cock.

He takes a moment to enjoy the view before removing the last of his of own clothing.

Once Neil is naked, he sprawls back on the bed, smiling up at Harry as he undresses as well. He toys with his cock a little bit, a lazy gesture coupled with half-lidded eyes. He feels a little bit like some sort of lush, but it's a good feeling. And Harry looks good, revealing skin like that.

It's a very enjoyable view, and Harry leaves him to it for a lazy moment, before he leans in to kiss him. He puts a hand through the boys hair as he does, pulling him up a little. It's a little possessive, but he wants to touch and hold the boy, so he does.

Neil finds he likes the possessiveness. It’s different than when Ellie or Benji get a little bent out of shape, and maybe it’s because Harry’s older than him, has that sort of air about him. Whatever it is, Neil utters a soft, needy noise against the kiss and tugs Harry toward him on the bed.

Neil’s always really like kissing, but he definitely likes the way that Harry kisses especially.

Harry, in turn, likes the little tugs and pulls. It's not the neediness as such (though he does really enjoy those wanting sounds), but the demand. He likes the not waiting for Harry to take what he wants. To put it bluntly; Neil's more than an open mouth ready to be taken.

The kissing is really nice too. He deepens the kiss when he's tugged onto the bed, loving the feel of Neil's naked form against his own. Invested in Neil's soft locks, he eventually trails down, caressing neck and chest and stomach until he reaches the boys cock. "Let me take that from you," he says with an easy smile that's very rare on his face.

Neil rather likes that Harry is so keen on doing something like this, the casual and infatuated way he bends his head and puts his mouth to work with that smile on his face. With a soft, sighing groan, Neil lounges back to luxuriate in the sensation for a moment.

"Don't take care of it too well," he murmurs after a moment. "I want you in me when I come."

'Disgusting' Ronny Kray used to call it. He was always a lot less careful than Harry. In certain settings, he would talk openly of what he did and didn't and why. He would mention his digust for the act and how he was concvinced he could smell it on people's breaths even days after the fact. He would never, he'd say, claiming he wasn't meant to service, he was only meant to take.

Harry never commented on it or refuted it (even Harry Starks knew not to refute Ronny Kray), but he has never agreed with him at all. The appeal, above all, is the writhing and quiet moans it causes, and if Ronny couldn't see that, that's his sad loss.

Fortunately, Ronny's ugly mug isn't on his mind as he takes Neil's cock in his mouth. Instead, he can enjoy the boy's delighted expression and his quiet urgent moans. He doesn't answer to the request at first, but eventually he does take a moment's pause. "Yeah?" He asks, finger trailing back to Neil's arsehole, where it puts a little pressure. "Got anything to help us a bit?" If he can avoid spit, he rather avoids it.

"Yes."

He twisted slightly and got into his bedside drawer, pulling out lube and dropping it onto the bed. He had a box of condoms in there as well, one he'd bought at some point or another but never really used because he still didn't see much point to them. There was no risk of pregnancy, and he was healthy, and the people he fucked were healthy. So he shut the drawer again and settled back down.

Cheekily, he smiled. He grabbed the lube and slicked his own fingers, watching Harry watching him as he slipped a finger in with a quiet groan.

Harry's smiles and approves of that cocky move. He watches Neil work for a moment, leaning back lazily to give him some space. But it's not long before he leans in again, and kisses him. It's too tempting to feel the boy and to kiss him as he gets worked up by his own hand.

He kisses him deeply and puts his own hand over Neil's encouraging him to continue.

Neil moans into the kiss, the weight and warmth of Harry's hand on his as he slips another finger in doing some awful, wonderful thing to him. His cock twitches. He squirms a little bit and rolls his hips. With his free hand, he reaches out to tease Harry's cock a little. The shape and heat of him feels good in his hand, and he knows it will feel every better inside him.

When Neil touches him, he utters a gutteral moan against the boy's lips. His eyes fall close and he kisses him again. "Fuck, kid," he breathes, but there's a smile on his lips. He puts pressure on the hand against Neil's arse, keeping those fingers inside of him. "Tell me how you want it," he whispers. All that cockiness makes him want to hear dirty words from his mouth.

"Oh," Neil sighs as Harry holds his hand in like that. He wiggles his fingers a little, whimpering with pleasure, managing to keep up the lazy touch to Harry's cock as well though it's more distracted than before.

"On my knees," he breathes when he can find the words. A blush works over his cheeks slightly, but it doesn't stop him from licking his lips and squirming. "I...I've done it that way a couple times. Kneeling and grabbing the headboard. Getting it from behind...?"

The blush is lovely, especially when it doesn't stop Neil from telling him how he wants it.

Harry nods; it's a very good suggestion. He takes Neil's hand and pulls to remove the fingers. "And are you ready for it?"

Harry drags his fingers out and Neil groans softly, arching off the bed. His cock twitches between his legs, and he nods a bit urgently, already shifting up. Before he turns, he kisses Harry, unsure when the next time he'll get a chance in, since they're going to be front to back and not facing each other.

Once he's turned, he puts his hands on the headboard, arranging himself with a good bow to his back and his ass thrust back in anticipation. It's a terribly embarrassing pose, but he can't find it in himself to care right now.

Harry watches him as he settles on his knees. "Beautiful," he remarks with a hand on the boy's back.

He finds the lube on the bed and slicks his cock for good measure. Then he settles behind the boy, and guides himself against his entrance. He pushes into the smooth and tight hole with a groan.

The compliment makes him blush all over again, but he can't deny it when Harry says it with such a sweet tone and gentle touch. And then any other thought is gone, chased away by the slow, steady press of his cock inside. Neil groans and leans his head forward, against the wall, breathing through the stretch of it. It feels spectacular. He presses his hips back slowly, aching to meet him and take it all in.

When their thighs and hips touch, he whimpers softly.

Harry's careful at first. He knows the boy isn't a novice, but he doesn't want to cause discomfort. It's encouraging to feel him press back, wanting more, and Harry gives it. Once he's carefully inside he starts a steady pace, slow at first, hoping to draw out needy moans and whimpers he's beginning to quite love.

It’s a slow, languishing pace that pulls all kinds of noise out of Neil. He can feel every inch, every push and pull on his body, every hot breath and considerate, heavy touch, and they all make him a noisy, easy mess, practically begging for more of it before too long. It builds steadily, even if Harry started out slow, and not before too long, Neil feels free to move a little more freely, sitting back and riding Harry from that kneeling pose.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “you feel so good.”

Harry, encouraged by the moans and whimpers, keeps his steady and slow pace until his own patience is tested. It's not helped by Neil, who is pushing back, asking for more, nor the way he looks on his knees.

He puts his rough hand on Neil's soft and smooth shoulder and guides him up until the boy's back is against his chest. With a kiss to his neck and a second hand wrapped around his waist, he holds him in place as he encourages him to ride him like that.

To be held like that, such a knowing touch, feels as good as anything else they’re doing. The gentleness and the intimacy of it; Neil leans back a little, lettung Harry carry a little of his weight as he rides him. It’s a hungry movement, that sway of their hips, and though they’ve gained speed it isn’t a sort of hurried, boyish desperation that Neil gets with Benji or Ellie.

He sighs a curse, and another, until it’s a soft, needy mantra of fuck falling from his mouth. He curls a lazy hand around his cock, and lets the motion of being taken lead the motion of fucking into the ring of his fingers.

Harry's a lot less vocal, but he breathes and groans and holds Neil so he can let himself go, which he does and it's a beautiful sight. "That's it," he encourages and shifts to allow Neil a better angle still. "God, you're beautiful like this," he breathes and kisses his neck again.

It hardly matters that Harry's quieter; there's something comforting in the stoicism, the heavy breathing, the soft brush of words when they happen. And Neil melts to the compliments. He doesn't often feel very attractive, but he certainly does when a man is kissing his neck and going deep in him.

"Harry," he sighs, tilting his head back and to the side to expose his neck more. "Oh, Harry."

It's the angle, the whimpers, the soft body against his. It drives Harry to hold him tighter, to guide him, to push in deeper. His kisses become a little rougher, teeth scraping perfect skin.

Neil whimpers happily with the new force and pace, the scrape of teeth and the very slight itch of stubble—Harry’s clean shaven but as of that morning, so there’s enough there to get the slightest rasp. He strokes himself urgently now, reaching for that final pleasure. Everything has a slightly desperate edge to it now, and he loves when it gets like that.

“Gonna make me come,” he murmurs, not nonsensically, but with fair warning. He’s not quite there but he will be soon if they keep up just like this.

It's dirty words like that, that drive Harry to that same place of erratic pleasure. He groans and bucks his hips. He's not entirely in control anymore, but it's a safe loss. He trusts Neil and besides, he's giving in to pleasure, not anger.

He leaves Neil to take care of himself and puts one hand on the boy's cheek, and turns his face to kiss him. While wrapped in that kiss, the hand possessively settles on his neck, fingers over his throat.

To be turned and held just like that sinks heat rapidly in him. He kisses Harry back and takes his free hand off the wall so he can grab at him, fingers tight against his scalp, then the back of his neck. It's easy to make it a heady kiss, especially when Harry's fingers are so gently holding onto his throat that way.

His cock twitches in his hand, and he keeps moving enthusiastically even as he makes a mess, coming across his knuckles.

"Don't stop. God, don't stop."

Harry has no intention of stopping, not when Neil tightens around him as he comes, driving Harry over the edge as well.

The gentle hold over Neil's throat gets harder as he pushes in those final erratic times before he comes. He loosens his grip only when he comes down for that delicious high. "God, kid," he says breathlessly and kisses his neck. "You're something special."

It isn't something he's known that he was interested in or got off on, but there it is. He's done a bit of silly things like that, mostly with bites and scraping nails. But when Harry closes his fingers on him as he comes, Neil lets out a brief, happy whimper, clenching all over again as he feels the rapid, hot pump of come inside him.

When they relax and start to slump, Neil giggles a little bit.

"I don't know about that," he breathes, not wanting to move but definitely trying to get off his knees. "But I am awfully fun."

It suits Neil's humility that he should say that, but Harry won't allow it. That's talk for rent boys, not for Neil. "Don't put yourself down like that," he chides quietly and fondly, as he kisses Neil's temple.

"Take my word for it, yeah?"

Neil hardly thinks it's putting down. He thinks he's alright looking enough, with his sharp cheekbones and easy smile, but he's hardly handsome, or special. Still, he won't argue.

With some great effort, his legs trembling a little bit, he eases off Harry's softening cock. He's a thorough mess and ought to clean up, but the prospect of moving from bed to bathroom and back sounds like too much.

Instead, he smiles at Harry and cups his cheek. "You'll stay the night?"

Harry rather likes Neil a mess. But he would like to get cleaned up before bed himself.

He smiles at the offer. "I'd like that." He says. "Shower?" he suggests with a hand through Neil's hair. "You're a mess," he jokes easily.

“If I have to,” Neil teases back. He gets up slowly, legs a little wobbly still, and after some great effort of concentration he moves toward the bathroom. A little blush marks his cheeks; he is a mess, and can feel it.

Harry watches him, enjoying the simple pleasure of seeing the boy unsteady and lazy.

He's aware he's getting attached. He rather likes that.

In the bathroom, Neil runs the water hot and leans against the cool tile until Harry joins him. He smiles at him. Neil has been trying, in these past months, to remind himself that romance tends to go disastrously for him. Charlie, then Todd (such as it was), and then Gabriel in Darrow. Each time, he makes a mess of it, one way or another. So he’s given it up—or so he tells himself.

There’s something about Harry, how he looks at him, that makes him consider. It isn’t the smitten, fawning look that Ellie or Benji give him, nor the strict hunger that some men have eaten him up with. No, Neil just feels...wanted.

How very silly of him, to want to be wanted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[for Harry | post Mardi Gras party]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject