[ Enjolras doesn't need to be told twice. He does, however, attempt to stifle a complaint at the removal of Combeferre's fingers- which are long and lovely and better than Enjolras' own, and they fit delicately inside him. He misses them, everywhere, not just inside. He can feel them gripping on his sides, but it's not enough- he wants them in his hair and around his cock and inside him and- just. Being useful. Put to work.
He doesn't say this, though, even if it's plainly obvious. There's no reason to complain when Combeferre is enveloping him, and Enjolras is clinging onto him desperately, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He's in love with the man and his embrace and everything that has to do with him- and he's quivering in anticipation for what he knows is about to come. He trusts Combeferre, and knows he won't let them fall.
Not that he'd really mind that, because Enjolras is going to make the small walk to the bed as difficult as possible. His neck is sensitive and Enjolras is painfully aware of that by now- so when he pushes up off the wall and into Combeferre's arms, he nestles his head to the crook of his neck, sucking and biting at the skin there. ]
[ This moment is not the right one to make his knees weak. He grips tighter to remind himself of the precious treasure he has in his arms. Enjolras wouldn't walk away with more than a bruise if he dropped him. Yet, he doesn't want to ruin their night. Not when his whole body is demanding that he take Enjolras.
He breathes out the faintest whine of his own and gives a frown he does not truly mean. ]
Now who is being the ass.
[ A few steps is all it takes to get them to the bed. Rather than set Enjolras down and come back up, Combeferre presses both of them to the bed. His hips move automatically, grinding in that rhythm he uses when they make love. Already, without even having his clothes off. It's getting difficult to keep the noises away that come with every other breath. He continues the motions as he takes off his own shirt, fast as his hands will allow. As soon as the shirt is tossed aside, his hands grip tight to those perfect thighs. In they move, they have a mission. Those panties, as beautiful as they are, have to come off or he won't be able to go as deep as he hopes. ]
Enjolras... [ Despite their position, despite Combeferre taking so much, in so many ways Enjolras is still the leader. He begs with the whisper of his name. Let him. Please let him. ]
[ He is thoroughly flushed beneath Combeferre, from the way he moves his hips- as always, it's breathtaking. Literally, because Enjolras is a panting mess under him, gasping for air from the fabric- the fabric- brushing over his sensitive cock. Still, Enjolras marvels in the newly revealed skin, letting expert hands trace over fine lines of his muscle as they are shown, never one to ignore beauty when it's directly in front of him. Or, maybe he does ignore beauty on occasion, but there is no sense in ignoring Combeferre, not when the only thing Enjolras craves in the world in his attention.
Permission is not needed. He almost wants to scoff at the thought of Combeferre asking, even if the question is plainly obvious. Still, though. Still, Enjolras hesitates momentarily for- well, not so obvious reasons. He's meant to be a woman now, but taking the underwear off would reveal some very unwomanly bits to him. He doesn't want to break the magic. He doesn't- he knows Combeferre won't want him any less if he's a man, but he has weird sorts of inclinations to be a woman. Just right now.
He entertains the notion to take it from behind for a moment, but no. Enjolras demands to be fucked respectfully. ]
Please- carry on, Combeferre. It's all right.
[ He does solidify the okayness of that with a shimmy of his hips- yes, he thinks, that would be all right. He'll still have the corset and the stockings and the rest of it, and he dares to think that even if he should be taken, one would still think him Eve. ]
[ He's not quite sure how he's managed to pull his still clothed cock away from Enjolras. He's beyond desperate at this point. In the back of his mind, he worries how long he can last. Barely touched and already thinking of orgasm. This is what his boyfriend, his love, does to him.
Those panties are very slowly taken off. His eyes do not dare to look anywhere else. He doesn't realize he's bitten his lower lip and groans as Enjolras's cock bounces out of them and all of his flesh is revealed... But still surrounded by lace. ]
I could orgasm only looking at you like this...
[ That does not mean he's standing still. No. He's sheds his pants as he speaks and takes his eyes away only to reach for the lube. Bless Enjolras for thinking ahead and leaving it out. He doesn't think to warm it. Hell, he's barely covering himself in it. It's-- He doesn't want to ruin their night should Enjolras have not prepped quite enough. His mind is a foggy mist of lust, but his concern for Enjolras will always come first.
Combeferre reaches right away for hips, pulls Enjolras to the edge of the bed, and teases again by sliding himself in as slowly as he can manage. God help him this is beyond amazing. ]
[ Combeferre's words make him shudder, but he's far too distracted to respond. If he wanted to orgasm, he could. Enjolras would be far from minding that- he'd drink him up like a greedy babe and insure he'd have several more orgasms as the night progressed. But. This is decidedly much better. Combeferre looks to Enjolras like he's hungry for something- and Enjolras wants to damn his awkward towards dirty words and whisper all colors of filth in his ear. What he wants to do, what he wants done to him, with more fucks and yeses.
There's the familiar burn Enjolras feels whenever he and Combeferre make love- a perfect stretch that makes him cry out, shutting his eyes and whimpering lightly. If he wasn't properly stretched before he doesn't appear to mind. The roughness is good, the burn is perfect, and if he feels this tomorrow then he'll only think to thank Combeferre for the gift. ]
Yes- yes, that's perfect. Yes.
[ Enjolras keeps them there for a second, though, getting used to the feeling or getting lost in it. He doesn't know the difference. Eventually he relaxes into it, rocking his hips to say he's all right, bright blue eyes blinking open and watching the man inside him. ]
I love you desperately, Combeferre. Feel free to be... ah, harder, if it suits you.
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He doesn't say this, though, even if it's plainly obvious. There's no reason to complain when Combeferre is enveloping him, and Enjolras is clinging onto him desperately, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He's in love with the man and his embrace and everything that has to do with him- and he's quivering in anticipation for what he knows is about to come. He trusts Combeferre, and knows he won't let them fall.
Not that he'd really mind that, because Enjolras is going to make the small walk to the bed as difficult as possible. His neck is sensitive and Enjolras is painfully aware of that by now- so when he pushes up off the wall and into Combeferre's arms, he nestles his head to the crook of his neck, sucking and biting at the skin there. ]
no subject
He breathes out the faintest whine of his own and gives a frown he does not truly mean. ]
Now who is being the ass.
[ A few steps is all it takes to get them to the bed. Rather than set Enjolras down and come back up, Combeferre presses both of them to the bed. His hips move automatically, grinding in that rhythm he uses when they make love. Already, without even having his clothes off. It's getting difficult to keep the noises away that come with every other breath. He continues the motions as he takes off his own shirt, fast as his hands will allow. As soon as the shirt is tossed aside, his hands grip tight to those perfect thighs. In they move, they have a mission. Those panties, as beautiful as they are, have to come off or he won't be able to go as deep as he hopes. ]
Enjolras... [ Despite their position, despite Combeferre taking so much, in so many ways Enjolras is still the leader. He begs with the whisper of his name. Let him. Please let him. ]
no subject
Permission is not needed. He almost wants to scoff at the thought of Combeferre asking, even if the question is plainly obvious. Still, though. Still, Enjolras hesitates momentarily for- well, not so obvious reasons. He's meant to be a woman now, but taking the underwear off would reveal some very unwomanly bits to him. He doesn't want to break the magic. He doesn't- he knows Combeferre won't want him any less if he's a man, but he has weird sorts of inclinations to be a woman. Just right now.
He entertains the notion to take it from behind for a moment, but no. Enjolras demands to be fucked respectfully. ]
Please- carry on, Combeferre. It's all right.
[ He does solidify the okayness of that with a shimmy of his hips- yes, he thinks, that would be all right. He'll still have the corset and the stockings and the rest of it, and he dares to think that even if he should be taken, one would still think him Eve. ]
no subject
Those panties are very slowly taken off. His eyes do not dare to look anywhere else. He doesn't realize he's bitten his lower lip and groans as Enjolras's cock bounces out of them and all of his flesh is revealed... But still surrounded by lace. ]
I could orgasm only looking at you like this...
[ That does not mean he's standing still. No. He's sheds his pants as he speaks and takes his eyes away only to reach for the lube. Bless Enjolras for thinking ahead and leaving it out. He doesn't think to warm it. Hell, he's barely covering himself in it. It's-- He doesn't want to ruin their night should Enjolras have not prepped quite enough. His mind is a foggy mist of lust, but his concern for Enjolras will always come first.
Combeferre reaches right away for hips, pulls Enjolras to the edge of the bed, and teases again by sliding himself in as slowly as he can manage. God help him this is beyond amazing. ]
You're beautiful...
no subject
There's the familiar burn Enjolras feels whenever he and Combeferre make love- a perfect stretch that makes him cry out, shutting his eyes and whimpering lightly. If he wasn't properly stretched before he doesn't appear to mind. The roughness is good, the burn is perfect, and if he feels this tomorrow then he'll only think to thank Combeferre for the gift. ]
Yes- yes, that's perfect. Yes.
[ Enjolras keeps them there for a second, though, getting used to the feeling or getting lost in it. He doesn't know the difference. Eventually he relaxes into it, rocking his hips to say he's all right, bright blue eyes blinking open and watching the man inside him. ]
I love you desperately, Combeferre. Feel free to be... ah, harder, if it suits you.