pylades_drunk | (no subject)

It's been over a week, now, since Grantaire's really seen Tunny in any way approaching substantial. Enough time to feel it, enough to get nervous. Enough to turn over two weekends ago in his head, and the sum of the last four months, to replay and rip apart every interaction in detail, berate himself for the ones he wants to linger on.

He's ignored it, drunk through it (which didn't help). But it was picking up the sketchbook too late last night that really told him he was in trouble. He's looked at it a million times since December but hasn't been able to use it, that empty page across from Courfeyrac waiting silent. He'd flipped the page, unable to look at it, and filled the next one with half-finished sketches on top of each other, Tunny's hands, his grin, none of them right, pouring out of his mind like it might help.

It didn't, but it settled it: at this point he has to say something and maybe has to live with what happens.

There are only so many places to look, and when he spots Tunny he has to fight the impulse to freeze. "Tunny," he calls instead and takes a few steps to catch up. "Wait."

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From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire gasps at it, warm and wet across his back, the sound of Tunny's breathing, the absolute truth that it's him who caused it shooting straight down into his stomach. It's a little degraded and completely amazing and his nerves feel like they're going to overload.

"Touch me?" he begs; he won't do it himself, not told not to, but he's pretty incredibly close to not needing to. "Please, please, fuck, I'll do anything."

From:

rage_andlove

He doesn't want to be done yet, but letting Grantaire come once? Doesn't necessarily mean he's got to be done. He presses in tight against Grantaire's ass, reaches around him to curl his fingers around his cock, stroking slowly.

"Define anything."

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire groans, arches against his hand. "Anything," he says, breathless, and when he falls back into French this time it's at least half because he knows Tunny likes it. "Je ferais tout ce que tu veux."

He can't think, especially with Tunny's hands on him. "Anything you ask."

From:

rage_andlove

"I don't know what I want," he admits, his hand still working over Grantaire's cock, slowly. "I want you so well screwed you can't even think. And I don't think you're there yet, do you? Not quite."

From:

pylades_drunk

"Yes," he says, but that's the answer to the wrong question, and also encouragement. "No, not quite..." he allows, and bites his lip, tensing; god that sounds good, it all does, and Tunny's fingers on him feel amazing.

From:

rage_andlove

"Maybe I don't want to let you come yet," he says, stilling his hand, but not taking it away entirely. "Begging and squirming." He bites his lip over a grin. "Cock leaking. Maybe I'll draw you like this, give you time to cool down some."

From:

pylades_drunk

There are thoughts on top of each other there: the first one is that he might actually die. There's also the pure surrealness of Tunny suggesting drawing him, even as a tease: only he has ever done that and the pictures aren't flattering or meant to be.

"God," he says and squirms against him; Tunny wasn't kidding. He stills himself, takes a breath to pull himself back into his head, just a little. "I said, anything."

From:

rage_andlove

"You did, didn't you," says Tunny, grinning. He leans forward, presses a kiss against Grantaire's shoulder, and then he does take his hand away, pressing it against Grantaire's hip for a moment. He leans up, loosening the bindings around his hands.

"Get on your back for me."

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire blinks at the kiss, how weirdly reassuring such a little gesture is. He stretches his hands as Tunny looses them; they're a little sore, but that's his own fault. Everything feels stiff and, right now, moving is just a little torturous on hypersensitive nerves. He shifts over onto his back and blinks up at Tunny, slow and distracted.

"Like this?"

It's so good to be able to see him; he didn't realize how much.

From:

rage_andlove

"Just like that," he says, swinging his knee across Grantaire's body to straddle him, leaning up to guide his hands back up over his head, looping the tie around his wrists again, tying him to nothing but himself, this time. He presses Grantaire's hands back against the pillow. "You leave them there."

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire bites his lip as Tunny presses his hands back, watching him; presses up a little as Tunny leans over him, which is doing him no favors long run, but hell.

He stays like he's told, stretched under him, tilts his head back just a little.

From:

rage_andlove

Careful not to touch his cock, Tunny leans down to kiss his jaw, the side of his neck, sucking lightly on the thumping pulse under his skin. His thumbs graze over Grantaire's nipples.

"You need time to cool down?"

From:

pylades_drunk

That's an incredibly hard question to answer, because yes means stop, and he doesn't want to stop, and he's not totally sure what Tunny wants, but this is fast approaching overwhelming.

Grantaire groans, softly, arches up against his hands, his mouth, thinks about him leaving marks. Jesus.

"...Maybe?" he questions finally, but he tilts his head toward his.

From:

rage_andlove

He leans up, pressing a softer, gentler sort of kiss against Grantaire's lips, fingers brushing against his jaw.

"Slow down doesn't mean stop," he murmurs, sucking lightly on his lip. "I just...I want to do some drawing and you need to catch your breath." And he looks beautiful like that and Tunny wants to look at him for a while.

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire kisses him back, breathes him in a little and nods, a little grateful for the reassurance. He does, anyway. Normally he'd make a defensive joke about being the subject, but he can't; it's too much, and he can almost believe in it looking at Tunny.

Right now he feels about as emotionally exposed as he does physically, more maybe, like anything could just take him apart, and he's a little okay with that.

From:

rage_andlove

Reluctantly, Tunny pulls away from him, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab a discarded sketchpad and a ballpoint. He settles at the foot of the bed, back against the footboard, sketchpad balanced in his lap.

"Keep your knees spread," he says, nudging one of Grantaire's feet. "Hands where they are, but turn your head towards me." A smile flickers. "Please."

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire smiles at the artistic direction, tilting his head toward him, spreading his knees and watching Tunny, letting his pulse calm itself, catching his breath.

There's something really gorgeous about him just settled with a pad and paper and if Grantaire ever felt like maybe he could be beautiful, it'd be now, stretched out and regarded.

"Good?" he asks, self conscious.

From:

rage_andlove

"Perfect," says Tunny, already starting to put a few lines down on the page. "How does it feel?" He asks, glancing at Grantaire's bound hands, his still hard cock. "Lying there and having to wait for whatever I come up with next?"

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire flushes, a little, at the choice of adjective.

"Frustrating," he says perfectly honestly, trying not to move, "and amazing." He takes a slow breath. "Like everything else just fades, I can't stop thinking about it." He raises an eyebrow, smiling a little. "Are you just giving yourself time to think?"

Edited Date: 2014-05-10 05:31 am (UTC)

From:

rage_andlove

"What are you thinking about, then?" asks Tunny, biting the corner of his lip, chewing on his piercing as he draws. "And, yeah, I might be. Not like it's a hardship or anything."

From:

pylades_drunk

"What you might do," he says. "What I'd let you do. About your hands, and your mouth. How it feels to have your cock in me." He chews on his lip over a grin, watches him from across the bed. "How beautiful you are just sitting there. Things."

From:

rage_andlove

He definitely grins at the compliment. He's better at taking them than Grantaire is, so he just glances up, watching him for a moment, glancing between him and the page in front of him.

"I could stand to hear more about things," he says

From:

pylades_drunk

"Your mouth drives me crazy," Grantaire says after a second, "your smile, and the way you chew on that piercing and everything you do to me with it." If this is a cool down, it's a frustrating one, but he takes a breath, lets that settle. "

And, "you make me happy. I could live with more of you, closer," he grins. "But I'm always happy, around you."

He takes a long moment. "I think I'd tell you anything you asked, just now," and that's relevant, but it's also just something he's been thinking.

From:

rage_andlove

"More of me, closer," echoes Tunny, smiling. "Even with the girls?" The last thing Grantaire says gives him pause, though. "Alright. What's your first name? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

From:

pylades_drunk

He grins. "Yes, even with the girls." That's a wider scope than what he had meant in this moment, but it's still absolutely true. He loves watching Tunny with the girls; he's great with them and they're beautiful all by themselves: he feels privileged to be let into that. Grantaire's completely capable of having compartmentalized sex; this isn't that.

It does seem relatively insane that they haven't done this part yet, although Grantaire hates his first name, so he avoids it at pretty much all costs. "Robert," he tells him, and only winces a little. "After my father."