Marton smiled as he sank teeth into Sean's throat. His hand crept under Sean's waistband, sliding through springy hairs. Sean didn't even try to fight back the moan. "Let him watch," Marton murmured, the words imprinting themselves on Sean's aching skin. "But --" "Shh." Marton quieted Sean's protest with a gentle kiss. His fingers wrapped around Sean's cock, curling over hard, slick flesh. "He is not important. Only this is." Sean gasped, head thumping against the wall. Marton was going to fucking kill him. "Would you like for him to watch while I suck your cock?" Ohhellohfuckohfuckinghell... Sean's fingers tightened involuntarily over Marton's strong shoulders, already trying to push him down to his knees. The fact that they were at a party -- at Viggo's, no less, hiding in plain sight in Viggo's bedroom studio -- with all of their friends just in the next room, was dismissed in a heartbeat. When Marton started talking, all reason and sanity left Sean's brain and was replaced by white-hot need. Marton laughed, low, sibilant, and licked a moist path up Sean's neck to his ear. "I think I shall. Szeretnék szív önt rövid idő ő virrasztó minket." Sean had no idea what Marton just said -- he simply reacted to the heavy promise in golden eyes. "Please," he whispered, raking a hand along Marton's buzzed hair, fingers tight over dark bristles. The heavy scent of turpentine and oils filled the air, mixed with Marton's aftershave. The canvas drop cloths enveloped the room in shadow and darkness, shielding them from all curious gazes. All except one. Somehow Sean thought this was appropriate. It was justice. Retribution. Or perhaps something even darker. Marton smiled as he finally sank to his knees -- a dark god disguised in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of ragged cut-offs. Sean's breath hitched, stuttered as he watched, helped Marton unzip crisp, linen slacks, peeling the fabric down legs that trembled with need. He no longer cared who was watching, if he ever had. He just wanted Marton to make good on his word. Cool air hit his cock for a split second before Marton's lips closed over him, enveloped him in sleek and hot and furious power. Sean let out a keening moan, was pretty certain it sounded entirely girlish. Was completely certain he really didn't give a flying fuck. If Marton wanted to dress him up in pinafores and paddle him like a naughty schoolgirl, he'd be all up for it. Just as long the promise existed of a moist tongue laving over hard flesh. Just as long as Marton continued to suck Sean off like he was the only sustenance Marton would ever need. Gold-flecked eyes locked with his for a timeless moment before Marton tightened his lips over Sean, started humming a nameless tune that sent tiny electric shocks all over Sean's over-sensitized skin. He wished Marton had longer hair, so he could wrap his hands through it -- tug, guide, force Marton to move faster. Need -- so much it bubbled under his nails, besieged inadequate senses -- overwhelmed his every thought until all that was left was the urge to move, to glide, to bury his cock down an all too-eager throat, slam forward, fuck those tight lips, yeah, that's it, take it, take it... A startled gasp sounded from somewhere in the shadows, and Sean lifted glittering eyes, sought the source. Power, raw and untamed, surged through him, and he cupped the back of Marton's head, wordlessly urging him on. Bring it -- give me everything you've got. I can take it. Sean's lips tilted in a crooked, breathless grin, and he felt like laughing in sheer joy from the strength of it all. He could practically taste their unwitting voyeur's shocked hiccup of breath, could almost feel the rapid, hummingbird heartbeat that matched his, blood rushing through open, aching veins. Oh, you love this, don't you, Sean thought, giving in to the urge to close his eyes and enjoy each sublime sensation as Marton scraped even teeth over him, used skillful fingers to cup between his legs, fondle the heavy sac. He wasn't certain if Marton was getting off more on sucking his cock or on the fact that their audience couldn't look away, couldn't run away. There was no running from this. Sean's hips lifted from the wall, jerked forward as he came in thick, creamy spurts, each synapse firing in rapid-fire succession. He forced his eyes opened, wanted to watch Marton choke on his seed, lap at each slick, sticky drop like the good whore he was. Yeah, there y'go...swallow it all and beg for more. A few small droplets clung to Marton's lips when he pulled back, resting on his haunches as he stared up at Sean in laughing challenge, in pleased defiance. "Íz önmaga," he murmured, and Sean didn't even need to know what he was saying to sink to rubbery knees and seek those sleek lips with his own, savor his own need mingled with Marton's, the sharp tastes fusing together in an eager slide of tongues. Marton's lips were soft on Sean's sweat-slick brow. "Is he still there?" he whispered, amusement rich in his voice. "Yeah." Sean's head slipped to Marton's shoulder, and he drew in shuddering, deep breaths. "Fuck me, you're lethal." "Would you like to fuck me?" Sean groaned, tightened his arms around a muscular back. "In a minute. When he's gone." Marton glanced down at him, dark eyebrow arched. "You don't want him to witness?" "Think he's been tortured enough, don't you?" "Do you?" Did he? It was a good question. Sean was entirely too lethargic to truly think, but he gave it a go, anyway. "I'm not certain," he replied, nudging aside the collar of Marton's t-shirt so he could sample bronzed skin tasting faintly of sandalwood. "I don't need him. Not anymore." Sean didn't even need to look up to know that Marton was smiling. "Finally given up on your tündérmese?" "Nah, just realized that I needed something else." Sean settled his thighs on either side of Marton's and crawled into a willing lap, sank into the heat of Marton's kiss. "What's that?" Sean licked at the corner of Marton's mouth, scooted closer, rubbing chests and hips together, rocking forward for more contact. Fuck, but the volcanic heat erupting between them was going to be his death... "Fairytales are all twisted if you look below the surface," he said, cupping the back of Marton's head. Marton's chuckle recoiled from his lips to Sean's in dark ribbons, lips brushing in fleeting promise. All Sean needed was right here, wrapped in golden skin and a wicked smile. Who needed purity and light when the shadows were so much more fun? "I knew you'd catch on."
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