Just then, the elevator chimed signaling that they had reached their destination. The doors slid open.
"Then let's go," Turncoat said, reaching down and grabbing their jackets from the floor. He walked in to Edvard's penthouse, tossing their tuxedo jackets over the back of a teak arm chair near the shoe rack. They had to pause to untie their formal dress shoes.
Edvard's fingers fumbled with the laces, still uncoordinated from drink. Turncoat finished first, setting his shoes aside.
"Tch," Turncoat muttered, seeing Edvard only finished with his first shoe, Turncoat impatiently batted the pale man's hands away, shoving him roughly into the wooden chair and kneeling between his feet.
Edvard let out a grunt as he fell into the chair, but he simply watched as Turncoat made short work of the laces and set the shoe aside. The annoying footwear removed, Turncoat placed his hands on Edvard's knees and pushed them apart, slowly sliding his hands up the inside of Edvard's thighs. Edvard let his head fall back as Turncoat began palming his erection through his pants.
"Nnngggg," Edvard closed his eyes briefly and let the sensation flood over him. The heat was coiling between his thighs and the room spinning slightly, making him grip the armrests of the chair tightly. He felt Turncoat's deft fingers slipping the button free of his pants, and before he could process it his pants were open and his erection pulled free. He breathed out at the relief of having the constriction removed. He felt a familiar wet heat swirl around his head, and he arched up into it, forgetting for the moment that he wanted much more than this tonight.
"Ahn, Turncoat," Edvard said.
Turncoat hummed and swallowed, and Edvard had to clench his own hand around his cock to keep from cumming right there. He pressed his bare foot against Turncoat's chest and shoved, sending the boy backward. Turncoat landed on his ass with a sexy laugh. "You're too easy, Edvard. I know all your buttons by now."
Edvard stood surprisingly fluidly, letting his trousers and boxers drop, kicking them aside. The look of sheer lust on Turncoat's face as the brunet ran his eyes over Edvard's exposed form was more than gratifying. Edvard stood looking down at the brunet still sitting by his feet on the floor, and slowly untied his bowtie. He pulled the piece of black silk free and tossed it directly in Turncoat's face. "Then why don't you come here and let me find yours."
No longer laughing, Turncoat caught the tie, tossed it aside, and rolled to his feet. Edvard's hand reached over and he began to undo Turncoat's bow tie. But instead of pulling it free of the collar, Edvard jerked hard on both ends, pulling Turncoat forcefully to him as though on a leash, fusing their mouths together in a harsh kiss. Turncoat slid his palms roughly over Edvard's bare ass, feeling the hard, taut muscles there. Craving harder contact, Turncoat quickly undid his belt and the fly of his pants, pulling his erection free and pressing it against Edvard's, running his hand up and down their combined lengths.
They both groaned at the sensation.
Unable to wait any more, Edvard kept one hand gripped on the ends of Turncoat's tie, and fisted his other hand into Turncoat's shirt dragging the boy towards his bedroom. He wanted Turncoat laid out beneath him in his giant bed, twisting in his silk sheets. The mental image alone had his cock dripping. The problem was getting from the entryway to the bedroom, which suddenly seemed insurmountably far away.
"God, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now," Edvard said with a particularly harsh tug on the brunet's shirt that almost sent them both tumbling to the floor. They had only made it as far as the living room, and Turncoat showed no inclination to wait any longer. Wanting more, and not particularly caring whether or not Edvard had a specific destination in mind, Turncoat pulled Edvard to him roughly, delving into an even deeper kiss.
Turncoat thought of all the times the cold, intellectual man before him had been debating some esoteric point of politics. To hear words like that come out of his mouth made Turncoat unbelievably turned on. He knew that this was a side of Edvard that he kept hidden from most people, and Turncoat reveled in it.
"Ah, fuck, Edvard. You sound so fucking hot when you talk like that."
Turncoat bit Edvard's lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then licked the wound clean and sucked on it. Shocked that it was even possible, the action made Edvard even harder. He felt Turncoat's fingers close around his cock and gasped at the sensation, stumbling as his brain temporarily forgot how to keep him upright.
"Oh, god, yes. Fuck, Turncoat," Edvard said, almost incoherent with the need to bury himself into Turncoat, to drive into him and break him apart. Their mouths sucked and bit, their hands gripped each other with bruising force, bodies pressed together aching for more friction
Keeping one hand still wrapped around Edvard's erection, he grabbed a fistful of Edvard's hair and jerked his head back sharply to the side. Exposing the pale column of Edvard's throat, Turncoat latched his lips and teeth on it and suckled his way down to the well-defined collar bone. Frustrated by the fabric that still concealed it, Turncoat grabbed both sides of Edvard's fine cotton Armani dress shirt and shredded it in half, the fabric making a low, almost erotic sound as it tore, a few buttons clattering as they spun wildly on the nearby coffee table.
Turncoat ran his gaze over Edvard's naked form, his breath coming in shallow gasps. It was as though his metabolism had gone into overdrive, his body temperature spiking and sweat forming between his shoulder blades. Despite all their tournament matches, this was the first time he was seeing Edvard completely devoid of all clothing. Turncoat felt his breath catch at the raw beauty of the sight. The alcohol had leeched some of the coldness from Edvard's expression, leaving his emotions closer to the surface and more easily read. Edvard had always tried to hold himself aloof when they were together, the façade only cracking a bit at the moment of release.
But now, the depth of Edvard's desire was laid bare, and the strength of it amplified Turncoat's own response. Turncoat released his grip on Edvard's hair and dragged his blunted nails down Edvard's back, marring the perfect flesh there. He slid his calloused palms up over Edvard's bare chest, running his fingers over the hard ridges and contours of the muscles. Edvard closed his eyes and swayed as the sensations rocked him. The calluses on Turncoat's finger pads roughened his touch, sharpening the intensity of the contact with their slight abrasion.
Seeing Edvard's reaction, Turncoat directed his fingers to slide first lightly then harshly over Edvard's nipples. He allowed his tongue to follow the path of his fingers, using his teeth to scrape and over-sensitize the skin. Edvard shuddered gripped Turncoat's still clothed hips, pulling their bodies tightly flush with each other to provide more friction as he thrust against him.
Becoming frustrated that Turncoat was still almost fully clothed, Edvard tugged Turncoat's hands away and jerked his shirt out from his pants.
"Off," he ordered sharply while his hands dropped to Turncoat's waistband to tug the already loosened pants the rest of the way down over Turncoat's hips and shuck them to the floor. Edvard breathed out a short laugh as he saw that Turncoat was wearing nothing beneath them.
Turncoat's breathing had become harsher, and he simply nodded as his hands slid the buttons of his shirt free, his mouth refastening on one of Edvard's nipples as he did. Impatient with the slow progress Turncoat was making, Edvard grabbed the shirt from the hem and pulled the rest of the buttons open by force, not caring that another shirt was destroyed in the process. Turncoat didn't seem to mind either, judging by his growl of approval.
When the last article of clothing between them hit the floor, Edvard placed both hands on Turncoat's chest and shoved him hard in the direction of his bedroom. Turncoat took a few stumbling steps back before catching himself. "What the fuck, Edvard?"
Edvard didn't answer, he just let his eyes devour the sight of Turncoat's body, finally bared completely to his view. He felt a heady rush of lustful pride at the sight. Turncoat was lean and hard all over, his significant erection an angry red from arousal. Edvard fought down the urge to simply shove the boy down on the floor of his living room and fuck him into it. He wanted Turncoat in his bed, and it would be worth the minor wait to get him there. The contrast of the roughness of the boy himself and the delicateness of the silk of his sheets was something Edvard craved, and he saw no reason to deny himself that pleasure.
Turncoat simply stood there, allowing the perusal of his form, his chest heaving slightly. "You just gonna look or what?" he said, tauntingly.
"Oh, I plan on doing more than looking," Edvard said, talking a purposeful stride towards Turncoat. He slid his hands around Turncoat's waist, feeling the heat of the tan skin against his fingers. His thumbs drew small circles on either side of Turncoat's navel then slid into the indentations by Turncoat's hip bones.
He closed his fingers around Turncoat's rampant erection, physical proof that Turncoat was not immune to him, wasn't disinterested as he had been in the past. Edvard wasn't one for being insecure, but his first experience of unrequited attraction had been frustrating on many levels. There was definitely relief swirled in with the heady lust that was coursing through him at the sight of Turncoat's naked and aroused body.
Turncoat immediately reciprocated the intimate grasp, wrapping one hand around Edvard's cock and the other around the back of Edvard's neck, drawing his face down into a devouring, open-mouthed kiss.
"Bed. Now." Edvard ground out, shoving Turncoat roughly in the general direction.
"Floor's fine," Turncoat said panting before closing the distance between them again, grabbing Edvard's hair roughly and driving his tongue back into his mouth, pressing their naked bodies flush with each. Turncoat grabbed Edvard's wrists and pinned Edvard's hands behind his back, shoving him up against the living room wall and grinding their erections together. The friction was sharp and exquisite.
"No," Edvard said, his words almost incomprehensible through his groan. "Want you... ngh... in my bed."
It was so much harder for Edvard to maintain a coherent thought when Turncoat was actively participating. Edvard realized that - by comparison - Turncoat had just been going through the motion all those other times. The scalding ferocity of Turncoat's touches and kisses had Edvard's mind reeling. They blew away anything he thought he knew about foreplay from before.
Turncoat tightened his grip, pushing Edvard harder against the wall, scraping his back with the force of it, crushing his hands painfully behind him. Edvard decided not to worry about the fact that the bit of pain made his cock jump. He could feel the aggression pumping off Turncoat, and an answering rush of his own unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Edvard twisted his wrists sharply breaking free of Turncoat's grasp and pulling his hands from behind his back to grip Turncoat's forearm.
He tugged roughly, pulling Turncoat into his bedroom and shoving the boy down on his bed. He stood there for a minute, looking at the sight of all that tan skin laid out on his red silk sheets. Turncoat's eyes danced with both amusement and arousal at Edvard's apparent insistence that their first time be in his bed. He sat up halfway, resting on his elbows.
"Nice bed," Turncoat said. "You gonna join me in it, or do you just want to watch?" With those words, Turncoat closed his fist over his own erection and began to slowly pump himself, keeping his eyes locked on Edvard.
Shaking with desire now, Edvard crawled onto the bed, grabbing Turncoat's ankles and jerking them roughly apart. Turncoat raised an eyebrow, but didn't resist nor stop the motion of his hand. He had assumed that Edvard would insist on topping at least for the first few rounds. He hadn't had many male lovers, but Turncoat was a pretty good judge in most cases and he knew that Edvard had never bottomed. The man was way too much of a control freak. Turncoat was up for either, though he only bottomed if the guy he was with was worth it and knew what he was doing. Running his gaze over the sheer physical perfection of Edvard's body and the almost animalistic gaze the man was giving him, Turncoat was more than sure Edvard would make it worth his while.
Given time, Turncoat was sure he could loosen Edvard up enough for them to switch. But time wasn't something they were likely to have much of.
Turncoat brushed off the unpleasant thought, and brought his attention back to Edvard's hands, which were now sliding slowly up from his ankles along the inside of his legs. When they reached Turncoat's groin, Edvard grabbed Turncoat's wrists and pinned them to either side of his body. He stared down at Turncoat's body, taking in the straining muscles, and smooth skin. Bending his arms like he was doing a push-up, Edvard slowly lowered his face to Turncoat's stomach, licking along the navel.
"Mmmmm," Edvard could taste the salt and the subtle flavor of Turncoat, and he closed his eyes to savor it. He continued to lave the skin with his tongue, adding pressure as he made his way slowly down Turncoat's torso, following the thin trial of fine brunet hair.
"Fuck," was all Turncoat could say as Edvard's lips finally closed around his dick and he arched up, throwing his head back. Turncoat's arms strained against Edvard's grip in a sudden need to grab Edvard's face and fuck his mouth.
"Not yet," Edvard breathed, his hot breath drifting around Turncoat's cock before his lips and tongue went back to work.
"Edvard, you teasing bitch. Didn't we both agree we'd had enough foreplay during the match?" Turncoat was beyond ready and wanted to skip to the main event as soon as humanly possible.
But Edvard didn't let up. He simply sucked harder, using his teeth as Turncoat had done so many times before to bring the brunet to the edge and cast him over it.
"Fuck!" Turncoat came hard down Edvard's throat. He was fleetingly surprised that Edvard had swallowed, but he had long since been proven wrong about Edvard's likely performance in bed.
Edvard smirked as though reading his thoughts and reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. Not trusting himself to remember to use it once things got any further, Edvard opened the condom and rolled it on to his erection before opening the lube and squirting a decent amount in his hand.
"I don't need a lot of prepping," Turncoat said, feeling relaxed but far from satisfied by his recent orgasm.
Not bothering to hide his relief at that statement, Edvard slid his middle finger, slick with lube, into Turncoat. He frowned at the tightness he found there, expecting Turncoat would be somewhat looser. His eyes met Turncoat's, questioning.
"Don't worry, Edvard... I don't mind a little pain. You won't break me," Turncoat smiled wolfishly. "Though I wouldn't mind if you tried to."
The words triggered a visual in Edvard's head that had his muscles clenching and cock twitching. "God, Turncoat, I just want to..." Edvard thrust two more fingers into Turncoat's tight entrance, working the ring of muscle to loosen it at least a little before he completely lost control and slammed himself inside the boy.
Turncoat drew a leg up and pushed Edvard's hand away with his foot. "Enough. Fuck me already."Edvard didn't need any further prompting. He grabbed Turncoat's legs and hooked them over his shoulders, positioning his cock at Turncoat's entrance then slamming himself all the way in with one hard thrust. They both gasped at the tightness and intense pressure. Edvard's eyes rolled back into his head and he swallowed convulsively around a groan.
"Ngh, Turncoat," Edvard managed. "God, I..."
Turncoat took a steadying breath, having forgotten the sheer size of Edvard and how his own relatively little experience of bottoming was going to play out. But Edvard had used sufficient lube, and was already slowly thrusting in and out, his large phallus stroking against Turncoat's prostate with every motion. Slowly, the pressure eased as Turncoat's body adjusted.
"That's it, Edvard," Turncoat said arching his hips up allowing Edvard to penetrate him even deeper.
"Oh, fuck," Edvard said, feeling Turncoat's heat squeezing him from tip to base. The pleasure was almost unbearable.
Edvard pulled all the way out and slammed back in, feeling the last shreds of his control disintegrating, his thoughts crumbling.
Turncoat reached his arms over his head and braced them against the headboard, giving him better leverage to flex his hips up and meet Edvard's thrusts. The increase in force had them both shuddering.
Edvard looked down at Turncoat's body covered with sweat beneath him. The stretched position of Turncoat's torso drew attention to every contour and ridge of the muscles in his arms, chest and abs as they flexed and contracted. He saw a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Turncoat's neck, and lapped it up with his tongue.
"Stop holding back, Edvard. I want you to try and break me," Turncoat said, wrapping his legs tightly around the older man, briefly immobilizing him balls deep inside, then clenching his interior muscles around him. "If you can last that long."
With that last taunt, Edvard completely let go. He reared up, grasping Turncoat's legs and forcing them apart, allowing himself full range of motion again. He began thrusting again, putting his back into it, slamming their bodies together over and over in a crescendo of noise as his hips slapped against Turncoat's ass and the back of his thighs.
Their bodies strained against each other, muscles flexing and sweat coming from every pore, slickening their skin. Edvard's muscles began to burn with sheer physical exertion. He felt his body slide into the "runner's high" as endorphins pumped through him, combining with the alcohol and the harsh stimulation of his cock to make him disoriented in a haze of lust and hedonistic pleasure.
Edvard lifted Turncoat's hips up completely off the bed and thrust in fully, hard enough for his hip bones to leave bruises on the back of Turncoat's upper thighs and ass.
"Fuck, yes!" Turncoat said, his arms straining and shaking against the headboard as he fought to steady himself.
Edvard pounded into him, pumping Turncoat's erection ruthlessly. "Oh, god," Turncoat came hard, arching up off the bed, his hands slipping off the headboard to fist into the silk sheets, twisting the fabric so hard that it tore.
He caught his breath and looked up to see Edvard's face contorted in pleasure as he continued to thrust into him, clearly close to the edge himself. Running his hands down Edvard's torso, dripping with sweat, Turncoat slid one hand beneath their hips and between Edvard's thighs.
Reaching further back, he pressed his thumb firmly over the skin of Edvard's perineum, while he inserted his sweat-slicked middle finger into Edvard's entrance. With practiced expertise, he massaged Edvard's prostate both internally and externally.
Edvard's eyes widened in shock at the intensity of the completely unfamiliar sensation, his body arching and breaking his rhythm. Turncoat continued to stroke in time with Edvard's increasingly erratic thrusts into him. In mere seconds, Edvard completely broke apart, his entire body clenching in a seizure of agonizing pleasure. He threw his head back in a silent scream as his hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself into Turncoat as his climax crashed over him in wave after wave. All Edvard could do was ride it out, his body paralyzed from the sensory overload.
He collapsed on the bed next to Turncoat, his mind completely wiped clean. He slowly became aware of Turncoat stroking his chest. He lay there, dazed. Sex had never, ever been like this. The level of ferocity and satiation had completely blown him away. For the first time, he understood what the word ecstasy actually felt like. His blood was still hot and thick, and he could almost feel it flowing to every cell in his body, drugging him with the endorphins from this pleasure high in a way that was almost frightening. Vaguely in the back of his mind, he registered that his initial thinking that fucking Turncoat would get the brunet out of his system had backfired wildly. But he wasn't prepared to deal with that thought, so he let his brain shut back down again.
He felt rather than saw Turncoat's steady gaze fastened on his face.
"God, you're fucking perfect, you know that?" Turncoat said softly, his voice low and hoarse from overuse. Edvard felt the pads of the tan fingers as they roamed over the contours of his stomach and chest, then teasingly circle one of his still pebbled nipples.
Feeling some control of his body return, he turned his head to look at his lover. "That was... really intense." The phrase 'fucking someone's brains out' had taken on a new and very real meaning as Edvard tried to come up with something more intelligent to say. He hoped the brain damage wasn't permanent, but if it was, it was a reasonable price for such extreme pleasure.
Turncoat gave him a sloe-eyed look, and Edvard felt his blood pick up pace in his veins again. "You know, when I first met you, I thought you'd be totally useless in bed."
Turncoat chuckled at the offended frown that appeared on Edvard's brow. "I mean, I figured that you'd be one of those typical people who feel like all they need to bring to the table are their looks, and let the other person do all the work."
Turncoat rolled onto his stomach, his side pressed up against Edvard's as he propped his chin up on his hands, resting on his elbows. "Gotta say I was pretty wrong about that."
"Hn, I should hope so," Edvard said, allowing his smirk to reappear.
Turncoat just looked at him for a minute, enjoying laying naked in Edvard's bed and the look of utter repletion on the man's face.
"You up for a shower yet?"
Edvard thought about it, taking stock of his exhausted body. "I'm not quite sure I can move yet. Let's just lay here a minute."
"Mmmm," Turncoat agreed, laying back down and letting his hands play along Edvard's hip.
"Well... if I didn't break you, old man, I'd be more than up for another round after the shower," Turncoat said, letting his index finger slide from Edvard's hip bone into the shallow valley just on the side of his groin. "When you're up to it."
Edvard narrowed his eyes at the 'old man' comment, but his groin stirred slightly at Turncoat's words.
"I see at least one part of you is game for that," Turncoat smirked.
"Hn," Edvard said, feeling his body slowly heating back up despite its complete exhaustion mere seconds before. "I could probably be convinced."
END
