smilestopscars | Room 210, Friday Afternoon

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Room 210, Friday Afternoon

It'd been almost two weeks. Ezra was starting to be okay. Which was to say, he'd repressed the hell out of the fact that he'd seen ––

You know what? No. Let's just not go there. He'd been thoroughly over it once he'd stopped shaking and wanting to puke his guts out (after he'd felt like he already had). And that had been the very same day already, so. He was done with it, and had been for almost two weeks.

(The less said about said two weeks, though, the better. Unless you happened to be a fan of questionable coping methods.)

Things were just fine now. He'd just finished packing up a box of his winter stuff that he needed to send up to Currant to Ava for safekeeping, and was currently just standing by the window, looking up towards the sky. Maybe today he'd go out exploring.

Get into trouble.

[ooc: Open door, open post. ETA: Dante thread going NSFW, no surprise to anyone.]

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Good. Ezra wasn't feeling like he needed a long warmup now. He let out a little hum.

"Not the same as always."

"Close enough." Dante bit down on the back of his neck. Hard.

Didn't need much more, no. He pulled his fingers out not long after, sliding that hand down around to guide himself forward, pressing up against Ezra's ass.

"Fair enough." Wasn't someting to argue about, especially since that came out as kind of a moan. Hey, Ezra liked being bitten too. In this context. There were others where he really didn't like it –– but, anyway.

Anticipation. Relaxing his body.

Dante sighed against the mark he'd left on the back of Ezra's neck, his breath warm, his own muscles tight with anticipation, too.

He pressed forward, sliding in with some notable gentleness, considering how much of a rush he'd been in to get here.

Ezra could live with a little gentleness. But then, he was open to a variety of things right now. He exhaled a long sigh, just focusing on feeling for a moment.

Because feeling was good. Thinking, not so much.

They were agreed on that, at least.

Dante let out a low sigh as he bottomed out, his arm wrapping around Ezra's torso, hand sliding back over his length.

He pulled his hips back. Rocked them back in. Not as slow now.

Good. That meant Ezra wouldn't have to chide him for being too slow. He could focus on feeling good instead. That was always preferable.

He was hard again, by now, and he sighed as he felt Dante's hand on him again. Then growled, just barely, at the back of his throat, at the thrust. Just one of the many things he'd missed.

Dante smirked faintly against the back of Ezra's neck. Not because of anything in particular - except that that was a growl he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Still feel as hot as you look, too," he said, setting a rough rhythm, his teeth scraping over the back of Ezra's neck. His hand kept up, dragging him along.

Rough was good. It had Ezra letting out another growl (a little rougher in its own right, really), and doing his best at squirming against the thrusts. Always looking for that little bit of extra.

"Oh, right back at you."

Right this second, if you'd asked him, he wouldn't have been sure why they'd ever stopped.

Dante had passed that point around the fifth bite. At the moment, he couldn't even really remember that they had stopped.

Because stopping was not a thing on his mind right now.

He left little bites all over Ezra's neck and jaw, his breathing going ragged. His fingernails dug into Ezra's leg as some part of his brain remembered that Ez wasn't quite as breakable as most people - not that he was going to push it that far.

He was welcome to push it close to that. Ezra wasn't very breakable (though the mass of scar tissue on one of his calves begged to differ). He hissed, but that was pain and pleasure all together.

He wasn't sure he was interested in holding it together for very much longer. Not when the call of another release was getting stronger by the second. With every bite, even.

Good, 'cause Dante wasn't exactly hanging in there, either. Every other breath came with a huff, a soft noise, something. His thrusts were getting erratic, though no gentler.

One more. No, two.

Then he was spilling over, whimpering softly against Ezra's neck, hand still moving.

And it was good that it was because just that little bit more was exactly what Ezra needed. A few good strokes before he came, messily, on Dane's hand as well as the sheets. And he didn't care one bit.

He'd missed this.

Dante panted roughly.

He bit at the back of Ezra's neck, just one more time, more exhausted and playful than anything else.

He pulled away and flopped onto his back, stretching.

Ezra heaved a long, content sigh as he rolled onto his back. Then reached – lazily – for the box of tissues on the bedside table.

Dante reached over to pluck a couple out there while Ezra had it in the air anyway, wiping off his hands.

Then taking care of the condom.

"Fuck," he sighed.

"Yes," Ezra agreed, as he cleaned himself up. "Fuck, indeed."

Cheapest of cheap puns, but Dante laughed anyway.

He was still a little out of it, which meant he wasn't even faking being comfortable just yet. "It was nice," he mused, because words, whatever.

It hadn't even been meant as a pun. That was how lazy Ezra was feeling.

"Yes, it was." He shifted a little, let his arm flop so that the backs of his fingers could just barely brush against whatever bit of Dante's skin they happened to end up against. It was just a stray bit of... something. Foxes were touchy.

Funny. Ezra hadn't seemed very touchy - or touchable, really - for a long time. So Dante's eyes darted towards that hand for a moment before he shrugged it off.

Metaphorically speaking. He had no inclination to move right now, or honestly, even discourage any of that. "Should've come here sooner," he said casually.

Dante should've. Or Ezra should've come back sooner. Whichever.

Ezra was looking up at the ceiling. He did shrug – or maybe he just shifted. It was really a question of whatever the equivalent of semantics was for body language.

"Well, things have been happening, darling."

"You gonna start in on that when there's no booze nearby?" Dante asked, slanting a sideways look at him. "Now that's being a bad host."

It was a decidedly more relaxed answer than Ezra would've gotten before the endorphins had hit Dante's system, at least.

Ezra picked up his hand again, for nothing but to hold up one finger. "One, I resent the accusation that there's no alcohol present in this room," he said, without even glancing over.

Sure, he wasn't a big drinker himself, but there was a certain image thing (along with the kind of company he kept) that demanded he was generally stocked on things like these.

He held up another finger. "Two, I didn't specify which things."

"There's been a whole bunch of things," Dante said, who couldn't have given less of a shit about his image if he tried. "I can't think of a single one that doesn't lead to drinking."

"Well, you were always straightfroward enough to be a little lacking in imagination in some respects, darling," Ezra replied mildly.

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