thewidewideworld | (no subject)

Entry tags:

dorian gray

(no subject)

{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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Sinric sings his joy, his voice high and reverent. He rests his ankle on Dorian's shoulder, drawing him closer and offering himself up.

Dorian licks a long line between Sinric's legs, still murmuring Latin.

Sinric whimpers sweetly, reaching out to steady himself. His hands close around the base of the great silver candle sticks.

Spread-eagled on the altar, arms outstretched in the flickering light, he too closely resembles some ravished saint or debouched angel.

Dorian licks the entrance to Sinric's body, murmuring prayers to that ravished saint.

He gasps roughly, his chanted song of praise growing high and breathless. He has done this often for other men but rarely has it been done to him. He arches, his lithe body tensing sharply. "Dorian, oh! Oh please?"

"Whatever you wish," Dorian says. His lips keep moving between Sinric's legs.

"Please? Don't stop. It feels so-" He breaking off with a whimper, shaking in pleasure. "Your lips- Oh!"

Murmuring in Latin, Dorian takes the tip of that little prick between his lips.

Sinric's voice rises in rapture, calling the grace of all the gods to this pleasure. Hot and hard, his little prick twitches against Dorian's lips.

Dorian suckles, moving his lips around the little prick as he still murmurs elements of the Latin mass.

"Dorian please? I'm so close!" He cries, such joy still novel and wondrous to him and being able to beg his pleasure as a free man makes it all the sweeter.

"Amen," Dorian says, wrapping his tongue around the little snail and sucking strongly to bring Sinric off.

It takes very little to push Sinric over the edge, the tight spring of pleasure inside him releasing in a long note of pure joy as he spills onto Dorian's lips.

Dorian keeps murmuring Latin, lapping it all up.

Sinric lays limp on the altar for a long moment, trying to catch his breath before sitting up to pull Dorian into a deep, passionate kiss.

"Ite, missa est," Dorian murmurs into the kiss.

Sinric can't help but smile. He shakes his head a little and slips a hand between them, cupping Dorian through his trousers. This worship is not done in his eyes.

"You wish to receive me in turn?" Dorian murmurs.

"By all divine grace." Sinric purrs, "I beg for your sacrament."

Dorian smiles, and opens his trousers.

It will be a lovely contrast to Sinric's nakedness if he remains almost fully dressed, only baring his member as it is needed to bestow pleasure to them both.

Sinric smile, rather enjoying the dichotomy himself. He reaches between them to run his fingers over Dorian's clothed thighs, fondling his jewels through the soft cloth. "How shall I pray to thee?"

"Jubilantly praising," Dorian says, drawing forth his prick like some holy object that is being revealed to the initiated, "and in Greek."

Sinric raises his eyes to Dorian's, his lips full and red.

Words of praise, older than the Christ god fall from his lips, soft as rain and rich as velvet.