thewidewideworld | (no subject)

Dorian kisses him deeply, greedily. "Such wickedness," he declares, "gives this darkly shining edge to everything."

"Would you have me shine for you?" Sinric purrs darkly, lifting himself onto the altar which is at such a perfect height.

His pretty dress and sweet colours belie the hunger of his kisses and the way he arches like a cat in heat.

"You already do," Dorian whispers into the kisses. "You blaze in the dark!"

"As do you." He smiles, drawing back to look into Dorian's eyes.

He lifts a hand to the wide, ornate collar, feeling for the clasp that lets the pastel silk fall away to his waist, leaving the collar to frame his bared breasts.

Dorian runs his hands through the silk, admiring the collar, touching Sinric's breasts accidentally on purpose as he does so.

Sinric gasps, letting his head fall back and thrusting his small, tight breasts out.

Dorian is fondling the collar, then runs it casually over Sinric's nipples.

Every touch to his tender breasts draws a gasp of pleasure from him. He arches, pressing and rubbing against Dorian.

Finally, Dorian takes pity on him and bends his head to the luscious pink nubs, wetly taking them between his lips.

Sinric gasps, running his hands through Dorian's hair. He rubs down the back of Dorian's neck, pulling lightly at his clothes.

Dorian's shirt collar and tie come off easily, falling down beside the altar.

The rest is harder to get at, as Dorian laves at Sinric's breasts with a hard, skilled tongue.

Sinric makes the most of the bared skin, running his hands all over Dorian's shoulders. Each lash of that clever tongue has him whimpering, arching up for more. "Dorian, please!"

"Whatever you wish," Dorian says. "Shall I adore you like a saint upon the altar?"

"Yes!" Sinric moans, "Please? Worship me?" Being spoilt like this is a treat.

Dorian starts humming under his breath, the slow sounds and cadences of old chants, as his lips wander around Sinric's breasts.

Sinric can't help but pick up the tune, singing on old song of worship. High and breathless with moans, his voice takes in an unearthly quality, both angelic and pornographic.

Dorian loves that dichotomy in the song, slowly kissing his way down Sinric's front.

Sinric gasps, adding to the soaring sound of the song as he falls back to rest his weight on his elbows. Perched between the candles and arching on the altar, he radiates with pleasure.

Dorian keeps stroking Sinric's breasts as he keeps humming, and kissing his way downwards on the pale skin shimmering in the candlelight.

Dorian's name weaves it's way breathlessly into the song of praise babbling over Sinric's lips. His thighs spreading as he welcomes Dorian's kisses.

Dorian presses his lips on Sinric's little prick, murmuring something in Latin.

Sinric tries to make out the work but it is lost in the murmur of skin and the pounding of his own racing pulse. His song or praise and glory seems to take on a life of it's own, more a compulsion than an act of will now. His little snail jumps and leaks with eagerness, arching into hardness.

Dorian's lips move against the pricklet as he carries on with his phrases of worship, in adoration of the pale little member all his attention is focused on.

"Dorian. Oh, Dorian!" He's fully hard now, his little prick quivering.

Dorian spreads Sinric's legs and reverently kisses the inside of his thighs.