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dorian gray

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{from here.}

Sinric laughs sweetly as he and Dorian dance towards the stairs. He mounts the first step, now level with Dorian. He smiles warmly and kisses the corner of Dorian's lips, the sort of kiss that both begs and promises.

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Sinric wraps his lean legs around Dorian's waist, holding himself in place as each thrust fills his world with light and pleasure.

He arches into the touch, his large nipples hardening.

Dorian strokes and rubs and teases with his fingers as he keeps thrusting.

His Greek dances with the rhythm of the chant, breathless and moaning. He clenches, feeling pleasure grow in him. "Dorian! Ágios skoúro apoláfseis!"

Dorian smiles, and keeps on doing it.

"My dark saint." He chants in Greek, arcane and beautiful, "My saint of forbidden joys. Of pleasures whispered. Fill me with your mysteries. Let me worship at the altar of your light." His voice breaks in a moan of sheer pleasure.

Dorian is humming Hallelujahs, from several composers at once, stretching from Handel to Leonard Cohen.

Sinric arches up to run his hands over Dorian's back, pulling him tight and close. "Yes! Oh yes!"

"In your hands," Dorian murmurs, "I commend my body!"

And he thrusts home strongly a few more times, aiming for their peak.

Sinric feels it, feels his body answer and part of him fears as another part rejoices that he might peak again. But it is not to be, not tonight. Which in no way diminished the pleasure he feels with every thrust, with every heretical and joyous moan.

Finally, Dorian can't help himself any more, and spills into Sinric, copiously, in wordless rapture.

Sinric sings out, a high clear note of joy and falls back, sprawling over the altar.

"Amen." He whispers, his voice sweet with laugher.

With a deep sigh, Dorian sinks over Sinric, softly kissing his his lips.

Sinric returns the kiss, caressing Dorian cheek. "If I believed in damnation I would be worried but nothing that feels so right should be a sin."

"It was right to do it this way," Dorian says. "You hate priests anyway, and this entire tryst was sticking a finger in their self-righteous faces."

Sinric smiles playfully and steals a slow, passion-warm kiss. "In truth, they weren't in my thoughts. Only you and how wonderful it felt."

"I am glad to hear it," Dorian says. "But just imagine -- the face that priest would make if he knew of the way we blessed his altar!"

Sinric giggles, hiding his face in Dorian's shoulder. "Oh dear! Perhaps we should dress and sneak away before he suspects."

"Just imagine him having almost an apoplexy on the spot!" Dorian giggles. "I almost hope he does."

"Or having to scrub the altar clean with sand and holy water to get the stain of our carnal desires out."

"Praying all the time, and smoking out the smell with holy incense," Dorian adds, giggling.

Sinric giggles, covering his mouth as he slips down from the altar, reaching for his dress. Putting it back on his trickier than taking it off.

Dorian tucks himself away, then reaches out to help make sense with the dress. "How did you put it on the first time?"

"I didn't. The dress magically appeared on me when I came down tonight. Something to do with the festival." He manages to get the clip sorted, straightening out the folds around his chest. "It's beautiful but it shows off my scars rather more than I'd like."

"Then let's cross it over your back so it hides a little bit more -- liek this!" Dorian says, helping to drape the dress.

"Thank you," he smiles, brushing a hand over Dorian's arm. "It's been years but I'm still self-conscious about them."