this was gonna be sexy but it somehow turned into:
local dads: we thought this would be a good idea but its bad. its just terrible.
——————————
Regis had looked at the clock and said, we have time.
They had both forgotten that the clock in his office ran a few minutes late, to make sure that they were on time for meetings, which was how the King’s phone had gone off from one of the other council members, asking if they’d been there, just as he was sliding down to the base of Clarus’ cock and biting Clarus’ lip, whispering to him you can come, love, yes, just like that, shuddering tight and hot around him, slick, high cheekbones flushed and a hand on his clit.
The King’s orgasm was a cut-off moan and a catlike smile, tongue pressed behind his teeth as he clenched and came all wet and hot and gods, Clarus loved him, loved him something awful.
And then, brushing his hair off of his face, still flushed and sated and pleased, Regis had checked his phone, eyes widened, checked the time, and pulled off of Clarus’ still-hard dick so fast he’d almost yelped, the King fumbling to get his trousers back on. “Shit,” he mumbled, trying to right his clothes, looking at Clarus with blown pupils in his green, green eyes, still bright with the afterglow, “The meeting, Clarus.”
It took a solid ten seconds for it to hit him, and then Clarus replied, “Fuck me up the ass with a tent pole,” and tried to not look like His Royal Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII had just spent the better part of the last half-hour riding his dick like he was a prized racehorse and Regis was his jockey. Which they both did, actually. The dishabille was more than a little risqué.
It was only when Regis was halfway out the door of the office that he took in a sudden, sharp breath and froze, mouth a pursed line. “Reg?” Clarus turned around, worried already, and the younger man had clenched his jaw, closed his eyes.
“You came in me,” he said after a moment, and Clarus made such a face—there was no time to stop. They were already late. “Hopefully I can run to the restroom.”
He didn’t get to. Instead, they got to the meeting, everyone looked a little askance at the both of them, Regis immediately put on his no-nonsense face and Clarus pretended to be a brick wall as he fixed his hair, wished it wasn’t so long, as down to his shoulders was just the perfect length to be sexhair no matter how they did it, and got to work.
It was only about half an hour in that he began to notice Regis shifting side to side on the chair, looking consternated. And, when he stood to point to the map, leaning a little more carefully that usual. How he bit his lip, eyes slightly unfocused. It took a while longer yet to figure out what he was doing, until finally, Clarus realised.
He was trying to keep Clarus’ come from sliding down the inside of his thighs, doing kegels like his life depended on it. And acting, surprisingly, perfectly normal about it. Like he spent the better part of an afternoon regularly trying to pretend like if he stopped paying attention he was going to have sticky, damp thighs and probably an awkward wet spot on the seam of his slacks. When a sojourn was finally called, after three hours, Regis stiffly got to his feet, and leaned down, one slim hand on Clarus’ shoulder to hiss into his ear,
“This,” the King snarled, under his breath, as he left presumably to go make a belated trip to the bathroom to clean up the mess before it got any worse, “Was a mistake.” Clarus hid his face in one hand to cover up the expression of mixed amusement and regret, closed his eyes.
Teach them to stop acting like a couple of twentysomethings.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL!Re: Clarus/Regis, Cum Leaking
Date: 2017-01-19 05:51 am (UTC)local dads: we thought this would be a good idea but its bad. its just terrible.
——————————
Regis had looked at the clock and said, we have time.
They had both forgotten that the clock in his office ran a few minutes late, to make sure that they were on time for meetings, which was how the King’s phone had gone off from one of the other council members, asking if they’d been there, just as he was sliding down to the base of Clarus’ cock and biting Clarus’ lip, whispering to him you can come, love, yes, just like that, shuddering tight and hot around him, slick, high cheekbones flushed and a hand on his clit.
The King’s orgasm was a cut-off moan and a catlike smile, tongue pressed behind his teeth as he clenched and came all wet and hot and gods, Clarus loved him, loved him something awful.
And then, brushing his hair off of his face, still flushed and sated and pleased, Regis had checked his phone, eyes widened, checked the time, and pulled off of Clarus’ still-hard dick so fast he’d almost yelped, the King fumbling to get his trousers back on. “Shit,” he mumbled, trying to right his clothes, looking at Clarus with blown pupils in his green, green eyes, still bright with the afterglow, “The meeting, Clarus.”
It took a solid ten seconds for it to hit him, and then Clarus replied, “Fuck me up the ass with a tent pole,” and tried to not look like His Royal Majesty Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII had just spent the better part of the last half-hour riding his dick like he was a prized racehorse and Regis was his jockey. Which they both did, actually. The dishabille was more than a little risqué.
It was only when Regis was halfway out the door of the office that he took in a sudden, sharp breath and froze, mouth a pursed line. “Reg?” Clarus turned around, worried already, and the younger man had clenched his jaw, closed his eyes.
“You came in me,” he said after a moment, and Clarus made such a face—there was no time to stop. They were already late. “Hopefully I can run to the restroom.”
He didn’t get to. Instead, they got to the meeting, everyone looked a little askance at the both of them, Regis immediately put on his no-nonsense face and Clarus pretended to be a brick wall as he fixed his hair, wished it wasn’t so long, as down to his shoulders was just the perfect length to be sexhair no matter how they did it, and got to work.
It was only about half an hour in that he began to notice Regis shifting side to side on the chair, looking consternated. And, when he stood to point to the map, leaning a little more carefully that usual. How he bit his lip, eyes slightly unfocused. It took a while longer yet to figure out what he was doing, until finally, Clarus realised.
He was trying to keep Clarus’ come from sliding down the inside of his thighs, doing kegels like his life depended on it. And acting, surprisingly, perfectly normal about it. Like he spent the better part of an afternoon regularly trying to pretend like if he stopped paying attention he was going to have sticky, damp thighs and probably an awkward wet spot on the seam of his slacks. When a sojourn was finally called, after three hours, Regis stiffly got to his feet, and leaned down, one slim hand on Clarus’ shoulder to hiss into his ear,
“This,” the King snarled, under his breath, as he left presumably to go make a belated trip to the bathroom to clean up the mess before it got any worse, “Was a mistake.” Clarus hid his face in one hand to cover up the expression of mixed amusement and regret, closed his eyes.
Teach them to stop acting like a couple of twentysomethings.