“I refuse to be made weak.” Alexander stands up, his hands splayed against the desk. He turns his head and feels both bitter defiance and a rush of warmth across his entire body that he has to glance up at Victor. The raw hunger shoots from his heart into his gut. “... This time. Not the first.”
“There is nothing shameful, or weak, in receiving,” Victor mutters, with the same tone of voice a scholar has when they try to appeal to their superiors. “But if you don’t want to, then we won’t. This time.”
“Not the first,” Alexander repeats. He is tense when Victor’s hands find his shoulders and turn him forward again, but one drags down his body, over his opened suit and then down the hints of exposed skin. It finds his trousers once more, helping them open. He is careful, like before, while Victor’s mouth presses against his jaw with the same intent. It is easier to relax, but he does not sacrifice his guard entirely. A compromise.
Victor pulls on his cock, dragging it from the open front of his trousers, and the rush of both warm air in Victor’s office as well as deep relief is enough to lead Alexander back against him, feeling Victor against him. Victor strokes his hand, dragging down and pulling his skin taunt, squeezing along his cock and leading Alexander to mutter his name and sigh with his head tilted away. Victor takes great pleasure in kissing his neck, leaving Alexander dizzy at how thoroughly he lavishes his skin.
His cock is hard and brought to full attention by Victor’s hand, by the comfortable weight Victor puts on his back, by the way Victor’s hand lays over his own against the desk. He arches forward and Victor follows, welcoming Victor against him with an undignified groan. He knows Victor is just as hard, pushing his hips forward with a precise angle as if he could press between their remaining clothing, and that gives Alexander another rush of powerful pride. If his body would allow it, he’d roll his hips back. Instead, he can only meet him with the same insistent rutting, making Victor shoot his free hand from the desk to Alexander’s waist.
Alexander lowers to his elbows, bracing himself more securely so he can give Victor a better angle on his body to grind against. Victor is like a heavy blanket, spread across his whole back as he continues to pull on Alexander’s cock. He can hear him behind his ear, murmuring words that form to nothing and trying to parse together sounds of encouragement. The hand over his stomach pulls him closer, and Alexander can feel his mind splitting himself in two, a submissive need to lay himself open and bare his body in a way he has never before, or to turn and keep his pride. He doesn’t know why he needs it so badly. He lays his hand over Victor’s on his stomach and pries him away, turning himself around. Quickly, Victor’s own trousers are pulled down. The sudden act of boldness is humbling.
Re: alexander saburov/victor kain, desk masturbation & frottage
“I refuse to be made weak.” Alexander stands up, his hands splayed against the desk. He turns his head and feels both bitter defiance and a rush of warmth across his entire body that he has to glance up at Victor. The raw hunger shoots from his heart into his gut. “... This time. Not the first.”
“There is nothing shameful, or weak, in receiving,” Victor mutters, with the same tone of voice a scholar has when they try to appeal to their superiors. “But if you don’t want to, then we won’t. This time.”
“Not the first,” Alexander repeats. He is tense when Victor’s hands find his shoulders and turn him forward again, but one drags down his body, over his opened suit and then down the hints of exposed skin. It finds his trousers once more, helping them open. He is careful, like before, while Victor’s mouth presses against his jaw with the same intent. It is easier to relax, but he does not sacrifice his guard entirely. A compromise.
Victor pulls on his cock, dragging it from the open front of his trousers, and the rush of both warm air in Victor’s office as well as deep relief is enough to lead Alexander back against him, feeling Victor against him. Victor strokes his hand, dragging down and pulling his skin taunt, squeezing along his cock and leading Alexander to mutter his name and sigh with his head tilted away. Victor takes great pleasure in kissing his neck, leaving Alexander dizzy at how thoroughly he lavishes his skin.
His cock is hard and brought to full attention by Victor’s hand, by the comfortable weight Victor puts on his back, by the way Victor’s hand lays over his own against the desk. He arches forward and Victor follows, welcoming Victor against him with an undignified groan. He knows Victor is just as hard, pushing his hips forward with a precise angle as if he could press between their remaining clothing, and that gives Alexander another rush of powerful pride. If his body would allow it, he’d roll his hips back. Instead, he can only meet him with the same insistent rutting, making Victor shoot his free hand from the desk to Alexander’s waist.
Alexander lowers to his elbows, bracing himself more securely so he can give Victor a better angle on his body to grind against. Victor is like a heavy blanket, spread across his whole back as he continues to pull on Alexander’s cock. He can hear him behind his ear, murmuring words that form to nothing and trying to parse together sounds of encouragement. The hand over his stomach pulls him closer, and Alexander can feel his mind splitting himself in two, a submissive need to lay himself open and bare his body in a way he has never before, or to turn and keep his pride. He doesn’t know why he needs it so badly. He lays his hand over Victor’s on his stomach and pries him away, turning himself around. Quickly, Victor’s own trousers are pulled down. The sudden act of boldness is humbling.