Happy Beltaine
May. 1st, 2007 07:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdTo celebrate, a clip from "Tuition Fees."
When the finger was clean, Morgenstern began working on him. That finger worked its way into Chris’s body, slick and careful. A second joined it, gentler than the first.
Chris voiced his fear. “Never going to fit in there.”
“It will, little artist, and I will not hurt you.” The passage loosened under his unfailingly gentle ministrations. He added a third finger and used them to form a funnel for more lubricant. Slowly he moved into position and removed the fingers. “Easy now.” He rocked gently against Chris, letting him open under the pressure and not forcing his way in.
Chris hissed at the burn, then yelped when the head worked its way inside his body. He could do this. He bit down hard, then eased up. He took deep breaths, trying to relax so it would stop hurting.
Morgenstern stopped moving and merely held him. “Tell me when you are ready.” He kissed Chris’s neck and stroked his body. He felt Chris relax well before he heard the shaky affirmation. He slipped in, slow, gentle, very careful, until he was buried in the artist’s body.
Chris gave a long, low moan, feeling filled beyond expectations.
“See? I told you, sweet one.” Morgenstern punctuated this with a kiss and was delighted when Chris moved tentatively on him while still in the kiss. Morgenstern smiled into the kiss and continued, his hands stroking even as his tongue did. At length, they broke. “Are you still afraid?”
“Maybe,” Chris hesitated. “Mostly of liking this too much.”
Morgenstern gave a purr like a great lazy cat. “Too much is almost enough.” He took control, moving gently but firmly. To his delight, Chris emitted that low moan again, louder this time. “Sexy boy,” he whispered, stepping up his motion to firm thrusts. “So very good, so tight.” When Chris rolled a bit more onto his stomach, Morgenstern asked. “More?”
“Oh yes...” Chris breathed, parting his legs, trying to give Morgenstern more access to his body. He lost the breathiness and grew loud as Morgenstern moved harder and faster, almost pounding at him.
Morgenstern gave a soft laugh at the filth that poured from his boy, a steady stream of vulgarity that was almost a prayer in its intensity. In return, he pounded very hard for a few strokes. When Chris screamed for more, more, and more, Morgenstern gave it, burying himself completely, with full force of his strength behind the thrust as he came with a scream of his own.
That sound, half wail, half-startled surprise, triggered Chris into an explosive second orgasm. They came down together, Morgenstern kissing Chris’s neck and shoulders.
“Sweet boy,” he whispered.
Chris gasped, “Don't leave yet.”
“I'll stay within as long as I can.” Morgenstern rolled them back to spooning, cradling Chris gently and whispering filthy French poetry until the young man calmed down.
“So good,” Chris said softly.
“So very good, little artist. A work of art in itself.” When Chris laughed, Morgenstern kissed his neck, his ear and his cheek, his lips light and comforting. “You came to my bed fearful: afraid of pain, afraid of my size, afraid of your inexperience. Have I quelled your fears?” He shifted as he softened enough to leave Chris’s body.
Chris rolled to face him. “All of them.” For the first time, he looked deep into Morgenstern’s eyes, losing himself in them, drowning in honey and amber. “I've wanted this for months.” The intensity in his voice drew an answering nod from Morgenstern.
“I knew the first night, from the way you looked at me. You were not simply storing me up to draw. But Walpurgis night seemed a much more appropriate time for a,” he chuckled, “virgin sacrifice.”
The name rang a bell, but Chris couldn’t put any specific idea to it. “Why?”
Morgenstern tsked. “My little Goth, I thought you of all people would know. Have you forgotten your Stoker? From "Dracula's Guest": ‘Walpurgis Night was when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad--when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revels.’”
“Beltaine,” Chris realized suddenly. “It’s Beltaine. I guess I forgot.” He wasn’t sure if he was speaking of the quote or the date. Probably both, and he knew Morgenstern would understand.
Morgenstern stoked his face gently. “After your evening, I am surprised you know your own name.”
Chris laughed quietly. “Of course I do. It's...Roger?”
Morgenstern smiled and kissed his cheek. “Very well, Roger, and you have been, quite thoroughly, you know.”
“Mmmhmm,” Chris agreed. He’d suspected it was love for some time, but now, he was sure.
Morgenstern held him a while longer. “I will not have you every night, but you may ask for me any time you like.”
Chris looked at him, confused and a little hurt. “You wish to sleep alone tonight?”
Morgenstern kissed his forehead. “Dear one, I nearly always sleep alone. I fear your roommate is growing disgruntled.” He whispered, “I revert to myself in sleep, and my own form is not so comely as this.” Seeing Chris about to protest, he laid a long finger across the boy’s lips. “Some night, you will stay and you will see. There is always one who is brave enough to do so.”
Wanting to be that brave one, Chris sat up. Morgenstern pulled him back for a long, deep kiss. His lips burned hot against Chris’s mouth, his tongue slick and invading, knowing the places Chris would like best. Chris gasped when they parted.
“Go on, little artist.”
When the finger was clean, Morgenstern began working on him. That finger worked its way into Chris’s body, slick and careful. A second joined it, gentler than the first.
Chris voiced his fear. “Never going to fit in there.”
“It will, little artist, and I will not hurt you.” The passage loosened under his unfailingly gentle ministrations. He added a third finger and used them to form a funnel for more lubricant. Slowly he moved into position and removed the fingers. “Easy now.” He rocked gently against Chris, letting him open under the pressure and not forcing his way in.
Chris hissed at the burn, then yelped when the head worked its way inside his body. He could do this. He bit down hard, then eased up. He took deep breaths, trying to relax so it would stop hurting.
Morgenstern stopped moving and merely held him. “Tell me when you are ready.” He kissed Chris’s neck and stroked his body. He felt Chris relax well before he heard the shaky affirmation. He slipped in, slow, gentle, very careful, until he was buried in the artist’s body.
Chris gave a long, low moan, feeling filled beyond expectations.
“See? I told you, sweet one.” Morgenstern punctuated this with a kiss and was delighted when Chris moved tentatively on him while still in the kiss. Morgenstern smiled into the kiss and continued, his hands stroking even as his tongue did. At length, they broke. “Are you still afraid?”
“Maybe,” Chris hesitated. “Mostly of liking this too much.”
Morgenstern gave a purr like a great lazy cat. “Too much is almost enough.” He took control, moving gently but firmly. To his delight, Chris emitted that low moan again, louder this time. “Sexy boy,” he whispered, stepping up his motion to firm thrusts. “So very good, so tight.” When Chris rolled a bit more onto his stomach, Morgenstern asked. “More?”
“Oh yes...” Chris breathed, parting his legs, trying to give Morgenstern more access to his body. He lost the breathiness and grew loud as Morgenstern moved harder and faster, almost pounding at him.
Morgenstern gave a soft laugh at the filth that poured from his boy, a steady stream of vulgarity that was almost a prayer in its intensity. In return, he pounded very hard for a few strokes. When Chris screamed for more, more, and more, Morgenstern gave it, burying himself completely, with full force of his strength behind the thrust as he came with a scream of his own.
That sound, half wail, half-startled surprise, triggered Chris into an explosive second orgasm. They came down together, Morgenstern kissing Chris’s neck and shoulders.
“Sweet boy,” he whispered.
Chris gasped, “Don't leave yet.”
“I'll stay within as long as I can.” Morgenstern rolled them back to spooning, cradling Chris gently and whispering filthy French poetry until the young man calmed down.
“So good,” Chris said softly.
“So very good, little artist. A work of art in itself.” When Chris laughed, Morgenstern kissed his neck, his ear and his cheek, his lips light and comforting. “You came to my bed fearful: afraid of pain, afraid of my size, afraid of your inexperience. Have I quelled your fears?” He shifted as he softened enough to leave Chris’s body.
Chris rolled to face him. “All of them.” For the first time, he looked deep into Morgenstern’s eyes, losing himself in them, drowning in honey and amber. “I've wanted this for months.” The intensity in his voice drew an answering nod from Morgenstern.
“I knew the first night, from the way you looked at me. You were not simply storing me up to draw. But Walpurgis night seemed a much more appropriate time for a,” he chuckled, “virgin sacrifice.”
The name rang a bell, but Chris couldn’t put any specific idea to it. “Why?”
Morgenstern tsked. “My little Goth, I thought you of all people would know. Have you forgotten your Stoker? From "Dracula's Guest": ‘Walpurgis Night was when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad--when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revels.’”
“Beltaine,” Chris realized suddenly. “It’s Beltaine. I guess I forgot.” He wasn’t sure if he was speaking of the quote or the date. Probably both, and he knew Morgenstern would understand.
Morgenstern stoked his face gently. “After your evening, I am surprised you know your own name.”
Chris laughed quietly. “Of course I do. It's...Roger?”
Morgenstern smiled and kissed his cheek. “Very well, Roger, and you have been, quite thoroughly, you know.”
“Mmmhmm,” Chris agreed. He’d suspected it was love for some time, but now, he was sure.
Morgenstern held him a while longer. “I will not have you every night, but you may ask for me any time you like.”
Chris looked at him, confused and a little hurt. “You wish to sleep alone tonight?”
Morgenstern kissed his forehead. “Dear one, I nearly always sleep alone. I fear your roommate is growing disgruntled.” He whispered, “I revert to myself in sleep, and my own form is not so comely as this.” Seeing Chris about to protest, he laid a long finger across the boy’s lips. “Some night, you will stay and you will see. There is always one who is brave enough to do so.”
Wanting to be that brave one, Chris sat up. Morgenstern pulled him back for a long, deep kiss. His lips burned hot against Chris’s mouth, his tongue slick and invading, knowing the places Chris would like best. Chris gasped when they parted.
“Go on, little artist.”
