unilaterallydisarming

Oscar had stayed for John. He had stayed, despite having his voice no longer a whisper, his body only aching a little, John still needed someone. It was an excuse to hold him, kiss his hair, read together, let John feel anchored with a steady heartbeat.

Not that he was feeling very steady just then. He had sunk easily into the couch, tilting his head back and fumbling with his shirt.

And nearly cursed, settling for yanking his shirt out of his pants. His hand felt shaky, but it wasn't from recovery. Just nerves from the heat he felt from kissing a god.

That near-curse gets a low chuckle from him, deep enough to vibrate a little across his skin that he follows up with a few soft kisses.

"Hmmm."

John's hand will settle over one of Oscar's, fingers petting over the back of his hand before he moves to touch the revealed skin.

"May I help?"

"If you could."

John was being a delightful distraction, as always. The buzz of his deep (evil sounding) chuckle, the soft kisses on his mouth and skin- and the hand touch.

He reached up, away from his own shirt, and tugged on John's top. "Also? Bless you John, but you're wearing too much."

John's laughter is utterly delighted by that and he'll quiet his words with another kiss before he nods and tugs his shirt off, the marks bright and molten good at the moment.

"More?"

There's still pants, after all.

So many marks. Oscar leans in to kiss the one on John's chest, his hand moving to run ovef his stomach, over the various tattoos- he said something?

Oh. Right. Pants.

"Mm." He leaned up to reward him with a kiss. "Please."

He was was gonna have to wiggle or something to get his off. John's were easier to pull off.

The pants will be shucked off so he can get to skin, and he has started wearing boxers just for propriety's sake (and because Sokie and Oscar will steal them and he likes that) so his hands will glide over the teal silk.

...John might just lift him a little, so gently, to help him start getting Oscar's off.

The boxers were nice! It can't be helped. Also, Oscar had gained an appreciation for softness.

The teal silk got an appreciated glance, a hand going down to touch skin and fabric- and he felt his hand drop, and he flushed glancing away.

"I got a little...excited already." He mumbled, embarrassed. Then again, he wasn't used to being seen naked.

That earns a warm grin and he kisses him firmly, trying to smudge away some of the embarrassment.

"Lovely," he purrs happily before taking another, sweeter kiss from his lips.

"May I touch?"

The kiss is nice, and nuzzled his nose. Touch...?

Touch.

He swallowed, his mouth dry.

"O-oh. Yes...yes. Please."

He nods then, accepting, and John's hand will slip into those boxers and loop gently around the length within. He'll give it a careful stroke, squeezing a little more at the base before sliding up, and watches Oscar while he does.

"Do you like that?"

Oh. Oh, that felt great. No wonder men did that so often. His breath caught, and he had to shut his eyes, trying to get his breath back. He might have made a little funny noise in his throat.

"Yes." He offered a shaky little sigh, and tried to swallow. "Yes, I like that. I, ah-" He tried to reach for John, flustered. "Can I...?"

It's a good noise. John is tempted to lean down, see if he can get more new fun noises but be nods to Oscar and shifts to make it easier for him to reach there with his hand, considering the angle. It's easy enough to see where it is: John hasn't been unaffected by their kissing and no part of him is small or subtle.

He's going to start kissing Oscar's jaw and neck as he keeps stroking him.

Soon, soon, John could see how easily he can get a taste. He did promise him to try, well. Everything after all.

Oscar did get to reach for him though, and slip his hand into the silk. There's a moments pause, realizing that John is larger then his more average size. But that means there's more of him to grasp.

His palm slips, fumbles, and he utters a soft near curse again as he gets a good hold of John. His strokes are far less confident, distracted.

But he still tries to kiss John wherever he can reach.

The hand around him gets a low grunt, a satisfied kind of sound, as he the turns his head to catch a kiss from Oscar's lips.

"Do you want to do things to me or let me do things to you?"

He nuzzles closer and presses a few more kisses.

"You should focus on whatever you want. If you want to try things with my body... Or if you want me to try things with yours, just let me know." A few more kisses. "I've been thinking about sucking you off, actually."

Edited 2025-08-16 06:52 (UTC)

"Mmm." He nuzzled him back, kissing him. He was a little busy, little distracted, considering the hands, the kisses to respond right away. He was enjoying all of the attention, soaking it up like the rays of the sun.

"I just..." He cleared his throat, and kissed John on his lips, his chin, and came back to give him more kisses.

"I enjoy being touched by you. And touching you." He gave him a gentle squeeze. "But ah- that-I'd like that. You...s-sucking me off."

It sounded so graphic.

He likes hearing that from Oscar, with Oscar's voice, his accent. It makes him hum happily into the kiss, and he'll nod on the way down while he kisses his way the whole time: Oscar's jaw and neck and chest and belly and then the soft skin of his hips and thighs. He won't go straight for his cock; instead, he'll take the time to nuzzle and kiss at those thighs, breathing in the scent there before he leans forward to tongue at his sac, flicking his eyes up to see how Oscar likes that.

He smiled, shivering slightly at the soft kiss. He loved John's soft touch, the affection and warm like a soft afternoon sun through a window.

It made his breath feel heavy, warm, swallowing as John went over his hairy thighs, his sac, making his hand settle for a few moments gently against John's cheek, before drawing away.

"That's good." He managed, and made to brush his hand over his hair. The sensation felt wonderful.

It would be inaccurate to say that his base hungers demand, that he doesn't relish the time he gets to spend drawing Oscar further and further down this path, showing him how wonderful it can feel to feel a kiss over his heart, the brush of a nose against a sensitive nipple, a sweet rumble along the skin. He'll turn his attention to his shaft now, however, and give the underside long, slow lick before taking the head between his lips and gently starting to suck. One hand is more than enough to cup his ball and gently knead in rhythm.

Oscar hadn't thought of it. How there would be a part that relished a gentle corruption, taking Oscar down a kinder, golden path. Where a God would give him attention, lay with him when he was hurt.

Moreover, gave him what he wanted, needed for years: affection and touch. None of these touches were known to him before, and he felt wonder, tenderness at the gentle heat and want coming from all of it.

No wonder he groaned, squirmed, his hand coming down to knead and grasp at his shoulder. John could stop right here and it would still be a wonderful moment where he felt safe and wanted.

Where he wasn't sure if he would simply come in a rush or burst into tears from the overwhelming sense of love and affection he had just then for the person who held him so tenderly, so skillfully.

John has no intention of stopping. Far from it, really; that kind of a response is incredibly encouraging, and he breathes in deep, enjoying the way Oscar tastes, how he smells, needing to slide his mouth further down to start bobbing over his length, hands still working.

He is so safe and so very wanted. So beautiful and so loved.

Oscar made a croaking gasp of a noise as he felt John take him into his mouth. It was warm, welcoming, and...he felt so loved.

He could understand why he was supposed to be chaste. It would be so easy to be distracted, so needy in wanting this feeling. Wanting to cherish this feeling.

Oscar's hand went to cradle the back of John's neck, stroking his fingers against his hair, his skin. Not pushing in the least. Nothing but gentle encouragement as he watched John bob his head.

Such a beautiful god, and a loving one.

This was why he enjoys sex.

Connection. He craves it, adores it, all the ways that people can sink into one another and communicate big, intense feelings without a single word. The way he can use his mouth, his hands, his eyes, how Oscar can feel loved, wanted, desired, enjoyed, beloved.

He could never understand how any religion could ask someone to give that up if it was something the wanted, and especially if they needed it. He doesn't wear the mantle of a god much these days other than as a useful descriptive term giving someone an idea of his capabilities, but he remembers the cultists. He remembers the ecstasy of their devotion. This... feels like this, only better. This is with him and he with Oscar.

Oscar's fingers in his hair, the taste of him in his mouth and the scent of him in his lungs and his heart beating in time to the way the pulse on the underside of Oscar's cock thumps against his tongue.

He'll swallow him then, unable to restrain himself, stroke him with his throat, let his tongue glide around and taste everywhere it can, and breathe in deep as he nuzzles at the lovely little tuft of pubic hair there.

He should wait, let Oscar fuck him, show him everything, but he can't help it. He needs to hear him, see him, smell him, all of it while Oscar loses himself in him.

It's everything in him not to coax and urge with a voice inside his mind; just like Charlie, it's not something he'd take without startling, without ruining the mood. But he can hardly regret his very full mouth.

It was what he wanted.

Connection. It was a connection of affection, love, all the wordless things he could not, would not bring himself to say. Things he didn't know how to say.

In this, John was giving him a blessing, whether he was a man, something else, or a god. This was something intimate, between them, and nothing would change it.

Even if the nuzzle felt ticklish, it was just a soft distraction, and he felt his body grow taut- knowing what was about to happen as heat rose in his belly and his thighs jerked. His breath felt too hot, as he let his fingers stroke carefully, petting John in warning.

"John-" He tried to pull back, tried not to just burst and make John choke (even if he knew John, technically, couldn't choke).

"John I-" He tried to make it so he could at least not just burst all over John- or tried to. He wasn't that good at it, considering he was laying on the couch.

John does not help matters, a low rumble in his chest translating to vibration hot and wet and tight all around him, coaxing him to do exactly what he was trying not to do. He doesn't leave Oscar entirely unaware of his desire, though; one hand lifts and gently pets his hand in John's hair, lets him know it's all right. He can let go.

Oh that rumble was just not fair. He made a noise, a choked gasp, a whimper- he wasn't sure.

And it didn't matter, not really. His fingers dug into John's hair, as he let go with a groan and a full body shudder.

He felt so warm.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject