As the distant noise of water running stopped, Shaun ascended the stairs and waited in the bedroom. Desmond soon emerged clean shaved with only a towel around his hips and was looking curiously down at himself.
These lines drew strange maps on his body, glowing ever so slightly, a perfectly symmetrical pattern. Shaun put the plate down. Wordlessly, he stepped closer and loosened the towel to trace one line with his eyes that went down his stomach and split up as it met the trail of coarse black hair, then travelled down both his thighs to divide again and again, small lines cascading down Desmond’s legs.
“I’ve no idea where this comes from,” Desmond said. “I’ve-“
Shaun swallowed the next word with a kiss. Whatever it was, whyever it was, it was the final straw to see Desmond so thoroughly marked. A reminder what he’d almost lost him to.
Desmond picked up the pace within a heartbeat. They fell down on the bed together, the old mattress creaking in protest as Desmond sat on his hips, then was flipped by Shaun, and round again, kissing and hugging, a tangle of limbs and grasping hands. Finally they laid side by side, panting, looking at each other.
“You bastard,” Shaun breathed as Desmond gently pulled the glasses from his nose. “You utter wanker.” What case could he make? That Desmond shouldn’t have selflessly told him to piss off and abandon him, likely saving his life in the process, because it hurt Shaun’s iddle widdle feelings? Yeah, likely.
“Glad to know you missed me.”
“Bugger off.” Shaun nipped at his collar bone. This was still his Desmond even lit up like a christmas tree by first civ markings. Only Desmond read him that well. “I need to feed you,” he muttered, hand running along sharp edges of bone. Desmond looked half starved.
The man pulled a face, his leg sneaking around Shaun’s waist, toes running along the back of his thigh. “British food?”
Shaun glowered. “Fine. No fudge for you, Desmond.”
Desmond laughed. God, he though he’d never hear that sound again. So careless, friendly, open. Desmond pulled him into his strong arms, on top of him, and wrestled Shaun’s shirt over his head.
“I missed you,” he said, between kisses, after he’d flung the offending piece of cloth away. “When I came out of the temple... I didn’t know whether it had worked. There was no one. I thought you would all be-”
Again, Shaun silenced him with a kiss.
“Thanks to you, no. Now stop thinking about it, yeah?” His voice was gentle. “We won’t be destroyed until Juno decides to kick off whatever she’s planned and that’s not tonight.”
He was telling himself and Desmond alike as they pulled close to each other with desperate strength. Shaun was taller, lankier, though not as well-built, but he could cover Desmond with himself, pressing him into the mattress skin to skin. They were rubbing and thrusting against each other with all the restraint of a pair of dogs. Eventually, Shaun managed to work his way between Desmond’s legs.
His and Desmond’s hand collided at Shaun’s belt buckle and Desmond chuckled, kissing him again, beating him to it as his quick fingers slid the belt open and Shaun pulled down his trousers just far enough so Desmond could take him in hand. It was heaven to feel his warm palm wrap around him again. The Britishman allowed himself to enjoy the feeling for a moment, thrusting up into these callous fingers.
“Wait,” Shaun murmured against Desmond’s ear. The Assassin groaned in protest, but he did let him go. His hand wandered down Shaun’s leg as the Brit moved away to the edge of the bed, resting on his ankle. It was a good thing that Shaun hadn’t found the motivation to unpack his travel bag, or he likely would have thrown the lube away by this point. As it was, Desmond’s impatient tugging only had to last for a few seconds before Shaun was back, kissing him as he attempted to flick the bottle open with his thumb.
Desmond snatched the lube away. It took him a bit of fumbling to open it while Shaun assulted his neck, leaving marks on his skin, lovebites that wouldn’t stick on the glowing tattoos.
Shaun shuddered as the cold liquid covered him, already spreading Desmond’s legs with one hand, briefly distracted by how little there was to grab onto anymore, nothing but sinewy muscle. Usually he would have prepared him, played with him, but tonight it was more urgent and he knew Desmond felt the same.
When Shaun pushed in, there was no resistance. His personal Jesus eagerly spread his legs for him with an expectant, open-mouthed smile, panting, one sticky hand dancing over his hip. Shaun placed his fists next to the other’s head, looking into his bright eyes of molten gold and watching them narrow as he pushed in deep, slow, hard, like he was planning to reach his core with each thrust. He lost himself all the way in him, gasping back a curse, and in that moment his world suddenly turned. The impact as he met the bed knocked the air out of him and the way it made him shift in Desmond almost had him come right then and there. Desmond sat on his hips now.
Shaun looked up at him. Desmond’s body glowed in the twilight of the room, Shaun noticed now as Desmond rode him hard, as if there was a sort of inner light in him, energy pulsing through his body. He dug his fingers into Desmond’s thighs, angling his legs so he could thrust into Desmond, meet his wild movements on top of him. He was all the way in him and delirious with lust. Desmond’s light seemed to fill the room.
Lovely, he thought when Desmond smiled, that scar stretching over his lips, the slight imperfection which had always marred his face. He leaned his face in Shaun’s hand that came to touch his check, kissing his palm, wetting his fingers that Shaun then dropped down to pump his hard manhood.
The warmth that seemed to be all around him tightened in spasms. Shaun had never been particularly loud, his breath flat, hectic, shallow as he pressed into him, interspersed with voiceless curses. Desmond always whimpered and moaned, though, and as he came he shamelessly shouted Shaun’s name in a way that made him want to never stop pumping into him.
Desmond went slack, breath escaping him for a moment as Shaun sat up. He wrapped his arms around him, thrusting up, up, up into him and Desmond clung on to him and made himself so tight it almost hurt. Shaun tasted him as he pressed his face in the crook of Desmond’s neck and thanked a God he knew not to exist for bringing him back. He spent himself deep in the other man, looking him straight in the golden eyes.
Shaun/Desmond: Come again (4/?)
These lines drew strange maps on his body, glowing ever so slightly, a perfectly symmetrical pattern. Shaun put the plate down. Wordlessly, he stepped closer and loosened the towel to trace one line with his eyes that went down his stomach and split up as it met the trail of coarse black hair, then travelled down both his thighs to divide again and again, small lines cascading down Desmond’s legs.
“I’ve no idea where this comes from,” Desmond said. “I’ve-“
Shaun swallowed the next word with a kiss. Whatever it was, whyever it was, it was the final straw to see Desmond so thoroughly marked. A reminder what he’d almost lost him to.
Desmond picked up the pace within a heartbeat. They fell down on the bed together, the old mattress creaking in protest as Desmond sat on his hips, then was flipped by Shaun, and round again, kissing and hugging, a tangle of limbs and grasping hands. Finally they laid side by side, panting, looking at each other.
“You bastard,” Shaun breathed as Desmond gently pulled the glasses from his nose. “You utter wanker.” What case could he make? That Desmond shouldn’t have selflessly told him to piss off and abandon him, likely saving his life in the process, because it hurt Shaun’s iddle widdle feelings? Yeah, likely.
“Glad to know you missed me.”
“Bugger off.” Shaun nipped at his collar bone. This was still his Desmond even lit up like a christmas tree by first civ markings. Only Desmond read him that well. “I need to feed you,” he muttered, hand running along sharp edges of bone. Desmond looked half starved.
The man pulled a face, his leg sneaking around Shaun’s waist, toes running along the back of his thigh. “British food?”
Shaun glowered. “Fine. No fudge for you, Desmond.”
Desmond laughed. God, he though he’d never hear that sound again. So careless, friendly, open. Desmond pulled him into his strong arms, on top of him, and wrestled Shaun’s shirt over his head.
“I missed you,” he said, between kisses, after he’d flung the offending piece of cloth away. “When I came out of the temple... I didn’t know whether it had worked. There was no one. I thought you would all be-”
Again, Shaun silenced him with a kiss.
“Thanks to you, no. Now stop thinking about it, yeah?” His voice was gentle. “We won’t be destroyed until Juno decides to kick off whatever she’s planned and that’s not tonight.”
He was telling himself and Desmond alike as they pulled close to each other with desperate strength. Shaun was taller, lankier, though not as well-built, but he could cover Desmond with himself, pressing him into the mattress skin to skin. They were rubbing and thrusting against each other with all the restraint of a pair of dogs. Eventually, Shaun managed to work his way between Desmond’s legs.
His and Desmond’s hand collided at Shaun’s belt buckle and Desmond chuckled, kissing him again, beating him to it as his quick fingers slid the belt open and Shaun pulled down his trousers just far enough so Desmond could take him in hand. It was heaven to feel his warm palm wrap around him again. The Britishman allowed himself to enjoy the feeling for a moment, thrusting up into these callous fingers.
“Wait,” Shaun murmured against Desmond’s ear. The Assassin groaned in protest, but he did let him go. His hand wandered down Shaun’s leg as the Brit moved away to the edge of the bed, resting on his ankle. It was a good thing that Shaun hadn’t found the motivation to unpack his travel bag, or he likely would have thrown the lube away by this point. As it was, Desmond’s impatient tugging only had to last for a few seconds before Shaun was back, kissing him as he attempted to flick the bottle open with his thumb.
Desmond snatched the lube away. It took him a bit of fumbling to open it while Shaun assulted his neck, leaving marks on his skin, lovebites that wouldn’t stick on the glowing tattoos.
Shaun shuddered as the cold liquid covered him, already spreading Desmond’s legs with one hand, briefly distracted by how little there was to grab onto anymore, nothing but sinewy muscle. Usually he would have prepared him, played with him, but tonight it was more urgent and he knew Desmond felt the same.
When Shaun pushed in, there was no resistance. His personal Jesus eagerly spread his legs for him with an expectant, open-mouthed smile, panting, one sticky hand dancing over his hip. Shaun placed his fists next to the other’s head, looking into his bright eyes of molten gold and watching them narrow as he pushed in deep, slow, hard, like he was planning to reach his core with each thrust. He lost himself all the way in him, gasping back a curse, and in that moment his world suddenly turned. The impact as he met the bed knocked the air out of him and the way it made him shift in Desmond almost had him come right then and there. Desmond sat on his hips now.
Shaun looked up at him. Desmond’s body glowed in the twilight of the room, Shaun noticed now as Desmond rode him hard, as if there was a sort of inner light in him, energy pulsing through his body. He dug his fingers into Desmond’s thighs, angling his legs so he could thrust into Desmond, meet his wild movements on top of him. He was all the way in him and delirious with lust. Desmond’s light seemed to fill the room.
Lovely, he thought when Desmond smiled, that scar stretching over his lips, the slight imperfection which had always marred his face. He leaned his face in Shaun’s hand that came to touch his check, kissing his palm, wetting his fingers that Shaun then dropped down to pump his hard manhood.
The warmth that seemed to be all around him tightened in spasms. Shaun had never been particularly loud, his breath flat, hectic, shallow as he pressed into him, interspersed with voiceless curses. Desmond always whimpered and moaned, though, and as he came he shamelessly shouted Shaun’s name in a way that made him want to never stop pumping into him.
Desmond went slack, breath escaping him for a moment as Shaun sat up. He wrapped his arms around him, thrusting up, up, up into him and Desmond clung on to him and made himself so tight it almost hurt. Shaun tasted him as he pressed his face in the crook of Desmond’s neck and thanked a God he knew not to exist for bringing him back. He spent himself deep in the other man, looking him straight in the golden eyes.
-