Page 45 of Lay It Bare

Inside the warmth of the Bolthole, Ellisandre slammed Sevastyan up against the wall before their boots were even off. The coat stand fell, clattering to the floor. Their mouth was against his, taking what they wanted. He pulled at their outer layers, dragging them off their shoulders. Coats, jackets, hats, and gloves hit the ground. They mutually pulled and kicked off their boots and stumbled towards the couch. Sevastyan pushed the coffee table out of the way on its wheels. Ellisandre gripped him and swept his feet out from under him.

He tumbled down onto his back, his fists in their sweater, dragging them down with him. They landed on their knees, straddling him, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other on the hem of his shirt. They pulled up on the hem. Sevastyan arched his back and raised his arms, helping to get the fabric swept from his torso and over his head. He pushed up hard, sliding his own palms beneath his goddex’s layers. The floor was a mess. But finally—gloriously—they were both bare above the waist. Ellisandre shoved him back down and lifted his hips by his belt. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Sevastyan pushed up on his heels, arching his back, and holding Ellisandre’s weight on his thighs.

Ellisandre laughed, riding Sevastyan’s legs. They jerked his belt open and pulled off his pants, under-layers. The fabric scrunched up against Ellisandre’s own thighs where they rested on Sevastyan’s. They pushed up, their own feet on the floor, shoving Sevastyan’s clothes down his legs. Sevastyan reached for Ellisandre’s belt. They leaned forward letting him pull it loose.

And then, finally, they were both naked. Pants tossed. Socks discarded. Nothing but soft rugs, throw pillows, and old, well-washed quilts against bare skin.

“Gods,” Sevastyan gasped against Ellisandre’s chest, mouth open and tongue against their skin. “Gods.”

Ellisandre gripped his cock and shoved a condom down over his length. He groaned, writhing.

And then they were dropping down on him, no questions, no hesitation, just slick and heat, and a vise-like grip. A deep groan came out of Ellisandre’s throat. Sevastyan’s hands couldn’t stop kneading up and down their thighs. He forced his eyes open to see Ellisandre’s back arch, their belly rolled with effort as they sank down on him, taking and claiming him, subsuming him into themselves. Sweat broke out across their ribs. Their breath stuttered. One of their hands gripped his wrist, fingers pressing down until his skin blanched beneath their hold.

“Odin’s beard, Vast,” Ellisandre husked. They rose up and slammed themselves down. Sevastyan’s hips were going to be bruised.

Nothing would make him happier in that moment than to bear the signs of their pleasure. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, not when they were gripping him like this. He felt torn open and taken. Ellisandre’s knees pressed in against his sides. They arched backwards. One hand came down on his thigh, giving themselves leverage.

This was no slow dance. They were fucking him like the storm outside. He braced himself against the floor, the ball of his foot shoved against the couch for traction, and rocked up into them, matching their rhythm.

His goddex leaned forward, raking nails down his ribs and belly, and kissed him. Their hand tangled into his hair and lifted him from the floor so that he was sitting upright, their bellies pressed together, breathing mouth to mouth. Sevastyan gripped Ellisandre’s ass, all lean muscle and hard planes and moved them to the rhythm they’d set. Their arms wrapped around his head, forcing his jaw upwards so they could plunder his mouth.

Orgasm hit him from out of nowhere. He screamed into their throat as their nails raked down his back. The vise of their inner walls clamped down on him and their torso rolled against him, their thighs tightening to the point of pain.

The two of them crashed down together in a pile of limbs, all their strings cut. Sweat and fluids ran down between their bodies where they lay pressed one to the other. Sevastyan’s ribs rose up and down, heaving oxygen into a system that moments beforehand had not cared if all he could see were white specks or a black universe.

“Gods, Elli. Elli.” He reached for them, rolling them onto his side and clinging to Ellisandre’s body, his leg coming up and wrapping around their hips and his arms going around their shoulders. “Don’t make me leave.”

“Don’t leave.” Ellisandre wrapped him back in their arms and legs, slender, strong, and hard from years of training.

Sometime later Ellisandre extracted themselves from Sevastyan and the floor and limped naked into the kitchen. Sevastyan straightened up the living room and then went after them. Cake and champagne were on the counter. They were retrieving forks and plates, getting ready to slice the cake.

Sevastyan took the forks and grabbed the full cake, eyes daring Ellisandre to order him to do otherwise. Instead, a dark smile crossed their face. They picked up the champagne, leaving the glasses behind. Together they returned to the couch, sitting against it instead of on it. Sevastyan held the cake in one palm and a fork in his other hand. Ellisandre gripped the bottle and accepted a fork. They ate like that, until the cake was abandoned, the bottle set aside half empty, and Ellisandre dragged Sevastyan down on top of them, a demanding grip in his hair.

He went willingly, held himself still as they bit down his ribs, and wept tears of frustration as they played with his cock and tugged on his balls until they nipped at his lips and ordered his tongue to eat something besides chocolate sponge and frosting.