🌊 le déluge

[familycrest]

● WHO: trevor belmont (familycrest), bobbi morse (covertness) + various
● WHAT: june catch all + event
● WHEN: june
● WHERE: all over
● WARNINGS: sex, aphro, love darts, possibly consentacles, cuddles, will add more as needed

[ fake cut is fake, starters in the comments. hit me up @ abiosis / tona#8599 or via plotting comment if you'd like to do anything with trevor and/or bobbi! ]

Comments

[familycrest]

[ one of geralt's knees settles between his thighs, pressing against trevor's cock, and trevor moans helplessly, the sound dragged from deep within him. the sensation of pressure is enough to have him buck up, hips thrusting up and forward, rutting against the thigh that geralt's lodged there. there's little finesse to it, but trevor's not an elegant or sophisticated man by any stretch of the imagination.

it's only when geralt kisses him that he finds himself distracted from chasing the thrill of pleasure, from essentially dry-humping geralt's leg. it's sharp, certain and desperate in equal measure, and for a moment, trevor gives as good as he gets, nipping at geralt's lower lip —and then he yields, going pliant, lips softening, although the kiss grows no less urgent for it. ]

[decoctions]

[ The moment Trevor's mouth softens Geralt presses in, sliding his tongue past Trevor's lips. His own sting from the drag of the other man's teeth, but he savors that feeling as he kisses him deeply. His knee rocks gently between Trevor's thighs as he presses back against it, providing the friction he's clearly craving. Geralt's fingers tighten around his shoulder.

It takes an immense amount of willpower to draw his mouth away, wet and aching. ]

Fuck, you're hard.

[ Rasped, almost amazed--like his own cock isn't obviously straining in his trousers. His knee rubs back against the motion of Trevor's hips, encouraging. A hand slides to the back of his neck as the other trails down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Geralt's fingers slide under it, over warm, taut skin, tracing prominent lines of muscle beneath the fabric. ]

Take this off. I wanna see you.

[familycrest]

Yeah--

[ yes, he's hard. yes, he's going to take off his shirt. yes, yes, to anything geralt wants right now, in truth. just yes in general to this, to geralt. he's so hard, aching with it, every touch, every shift of their bodies, soothing the ache and deepening it all at once. it's maddening an it's wonderful and trevor wants, needs more.

he manages, after some fumbling, to get his shirt up over his head, to toss it aside. ]

You, too.

[ fair's fair, but it isn't really fairness that trevor's concerned with so much as with being able to feel skin against skin, to be able to run his hands freely over the expanse of geralt's chest, to feel solid muscle and warm skin under his fingertips, against his own chest without the cloth getting in the way. ]

[decoctions]

[ Geralt is feeling much the same way. He just wants to feel Trevor's skin against his, the more contact the better. He hardly needs to be urged. As soon as the words are out of Trevor's mouth Geralt is pulling his own shirt over his head, letting it fall from his hands somewhere beside the bed. Unimportant right now. The only thing he's concerned with is getting his hands and his mouth back on Trevor.

He kisses him again with both hands cradling his face, teeth and tongue dragging over his lips. There's a rough edge to his kiss that continues even as he trails from trevor's mouth to his jaw to the curve of his neck, where Geralt scrapes his teeth hard over a pulse point. He inhales deeply, breathes him in. ]

Lay back.

[ Geralt moves reluctantly away as he begins to undo the laces of his own trousers with clear intent. ]

I'll help you with the rest.

[familycrest]

Yeah—

[ trevor likes that idea. likes letting geralt pull the shots, determining what happens. some part of him thinks that maybe he shouldn't, that the last son of the house of belmont, the last monster hunter should, perhaps, take more control of a situation like this, shouldn't be quite so happy to submit to someone else —but then, what does 'should' matter these days?

the truth is that he likes this. that his cock jerks at the quiet command as much as the teeth against his pulse point, the hint of danger. geralt can best him in battle and that shouldn't add to the excitement, but it does.

to hell with should. trevor tips his head back, baring it. lying back, the way geralt's told him to, his breathing coming faster, more shallowly. ]

[decoctions]

[ While the sight of Trevor doing as he's told and baring his throat in the process is tempting, Geralt manages to keep his goal in mind. It helps that this goal is relatively simple, and involves getting both of them undressed as soon as possible. This is easy enough to do for himself, all quick efficient movements as he loosens his laces and pushes his trousers and the simple undergarments beneath off his hips and down over his thighs, stepping out of them as soon as they're loose enough.

To do the same for Trevor will take a little more finesse, and Geralt is feeling increasingly impatient as the aphrodisiac in his system makes him crave tactile contact. His scarred body is now entirely bared as he shifts back onto the bed, nudging his way between Trevor's still clothed thighs.

Leaning over him, Geralt busies his hands with opening his pants while his mouth is drawn to the vulnerable stretch of his neck. He noses beneath Trevor's jaw again with a sigh before he presses another nipping kiss to the same spot. From there he works his way down, tugging at the waist of Trevor's pants as soon as they're loose enough to budge. ]

C'mon, [ he urges, breath hot. Another scrape of teeth follows. ] Let's get these off. I'll suck your cock.

[familycrest]

God, fuck, yes. [ he's an eloquent man, really. (no, he's not. he's never had use for it, never needed to be. he isn't learned or sophisticated, isn't a scholalr. trevor's native language is the physical.)

there are scars on geralt's body; the same holds true for trevor, although there are perhaps not quite as many scars. either way, he finds himself appreciating the reminder that their lives cannot have been all that different, that there are some shared truths between them, even as he finds it increasingly difficult to form thoughts at all, to think of anything but touching geralt. so he does: running his hands over all that skin geralt's bared for him, trailing his fingers over scars and muscle, down geralt's spine.

he's got enough presence of mind still, at least, to lift his hips when geralt starts tugging at his trousers. ]

[decoctions]

[ Luckily, fuck yes is all Geralt needs to hear. His lips don't shy from Trevor's scars as he works his way down his body, but neither does he focus on them in particular. A pleased hum rumbles up in his chest when he reaches Trevor's sternum, as the other man's hands explore his body, rough and curious.

With a joint effort they manage to peel Trevor's trousers and what's beneath down and off, baring the remainder of his body. He's built thickly with muscles that testify to the strength Geralt had felt when sparring with him. It's an easy body to appreciate, and Geralt does so without hesitation, nipping a hip bone as he leans down over him, a hand sliding between thick thighs to wrap around his cock.

Rather than getting immediately to what he'd promised, Geralt takes a little time to appreciate the newly bared skin spread out for him. He mouths along the inside of a thigh with kisses edged with teeth, all the way up to the crux of his hip. His hand, rough and dry, pumps slow over Trevor's cock from balls to tip and down again as his mouth sucks a mark into the skin just where thigh and groin meet. ]