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If David asked Rhys about it later, he’d respond “we had both had too much to drink,” and apologize for any boundaries he may have overstepped. But here, in his moment? He was certain no boundaries would be crossed. He was clear-headed and in control enough to make this good for both of them. And David? Clear-headed might not be the word. He was out of it, slurring the English words he still maintained a grasp on and filling in the gaps with Russian and hand gestures. On the way from the bar back to their dorm, he had been struggling to stay upright, stumbling and swaying and leaning on Rhys for stability. He was stunningly helpless like this, dizzy and thoughtless, dependent on Rhys even to walk in a straight line.
Rhys knew it should worry him, but it only made him feel powerful, only made him want David in every way he could have him.
He knocked David onto the bed as soon as their door closed behind them. It hardly took any force at all. Two fingers pressed firmly to David’s left shoulder, and down he went, giggling and grasping uselessly for Rhys on the way. “Shtoh…?” he mumbled, sitting in a half-sprawl and looking up at Rhys with confusion in his pretty green eyes.
“Shh, I’ve got you.” Rhys murmured. David looked up at him without focus. His cheeks were flushed a near-feverish pink. Rhys positioned himself on his hands and knees over him and pressed a kiss to his soft, giving mouth, and another to his neck. David’s breath hitched, and he turned his head to give Rhys better access. Rhys could feel his pulse jumping. “You’ll let me make you feel good, won’t you?” he whispered into his ear.
“Yeah,” David breathed. When Rhys sucked a bruise into the sensitive skin just behind his ear, he gasped and rolled his hips.
Rhys bit back a groan at the pressure of David’s half-hard cock against his own, which had been aching with need since David had reached the point in the evening where he stopped being bratty and started getting needy like this
.
Rhys indulged himself in kissing down David’s neck and chest, for a time. He smelled like alcohol and tasted like sweat, his skin was delicate under Rhys’s mouth. He could bite down if he wanted, and David would let him, would probably even love it. But there was something different about him tonight. The drinks had brought out something helpless and fluttering that demanded to be treated gently.
David wrapped his arms around Rhys, brought one hand up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you? Just that it feels good.”
“Mmm,” was David’s non-answer.
“Turn over for me, silly boy. I have an idea.” Rhys kissed David’s half-open mouth, flicked his tongue against his plush lower lip, before sitting back to give him room. David just looked at him, dazed and stupid with drink. “On your belly.” Rhys gestured helpfully, and eventually David got the idea. He flipped onto his front, wrapping his arms around the pillow he smushed his face into. He lifted his ass and wiggled his hips.
“Cheeky,” chided Rhys, unbuttoning David’s pants - he was sure he’d been wearing a belt earlier, and had no idea when or where David had discarded it - and sliding them down to his knees along with his underwear. He gently guided David to lift his knees, one at a time, to shimmy the waistband down over them to his ankles.
He ran his hands over the slight curve of David’s bare ass, admiring the softness of his skin. He wanted the man bathed in flickering golden candlelight, but the simple darkness of their dorm room would have to do. He pressed a kiss to the base of his spine, earning a quiet little hum from where David had his head pillowed on his folded arms.
“Are you going to fall asleep on me?”
“Mm-mm.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” With that, Rhys moved his kisses lower, spreading David’s cheeks to mouth at his soft pink hole.
David let out a moan, surprise fading into pleasure as Rhys lapped at him with long, slow strokes. He felt it when David relaxed fully, when the tension went out from the muscles beneath Rhys’s palms, leaving him a mere puddle of a man. Rhys continued working at him, high on the power David had handed over to him. He was putty in Rhys’s hands, putting up no resistance and – and Rhys understood what a gift was being given with this – putting on no performance. He wasn’t asking for anything, didn’t need to tell Rhys what he wanted, because he trusted him to already know, and to give it to him.
Rhys didn’t want anything in return — at least, nothing that couldn’t wait — even as his cock ached with need. It was blessing enough, to have David utterly vulnerable beneath him. Rhys wrote his name with the tip of his tongue, and felt David shake with sensitivity. He did it again, and again with the same patience, precision, and focus he used for every other ritual. This was a ritual, in its way. He was making David his own, marking him with his name and his saliva in this most secret, intimate way. It was an illicit love spell, something closer to the left hand path than he normally dared let himself go, claiming intimacy from this man while he could not fight back. And David loved it, submitted to it, bared himself for him like one might for a god.
David had had too much to drink to be able to get fully hard, but Rhys took him in hand all the same. Like the rest of him, his cock was soft and warm and vulnerable. Rhys couldn’t help but treat it gently, petting the sensitive place under its head, cupping it in his palm and feeling David rock forward against him mindlessly. He was chasing heat, closeness, pleasure, and truthfully, his uncoordinated motions weren’t doing much to bring him those things. Rhys pulled away just long enough to say “Relax, David. Let me.”
David stilled his hips, and Rhys felt a thrill low in his stomach at the obedience. When Rhys resumed lapping at him - he’d devolved from writing his own name, and instead was tracing the letters M-I-N-E over and over - David groaned something unintelligible into the pillow.
“What’s that, baby?”
David let his head loll just slightly to the side, enough that Rhys could hear him more clearly when he said “M’yo imya.” There was something plaintive in his voice.
“I speak English, David,” Rhys said fondly, knowing David could feel his breath where he was heated and sensitive.
David’s dick twitched, and he slurred out “Yeah, tha…”
“Are you asking me to say your name?”
“Please.”
“I can’t do that and eat you out at the same time,” said Rhys, and David whined in response. Rhys licked one last long stripe over David’s hole and up to his tailbone. “Want me to fuck you instead, David?”
“Mmhmm.”
Rhys lost count of how many times he said David’s name, as he quickly slicked himself up and slid into David’s loose hole. Maybe he took it a little too fast; David hissed with pain when Rhys bottomed out, pressed flush against his back. “Shh, David. Let me in,” Rhys purred, soothing. That was all it took to turn David’s protest into a pleasured exhale. “David, David,” Rhys repeated, rocking himself into David’s heat, already feeling like a spring wound tight. He’d waited long enough for this, he could have it, he deserved it. “God, David, you feel so good.” He sped up, losing any rhythm he’d started with, thrusting frantically into David’s yielding body, jerking him off roughly. He felt electric, he felt out of control, he felt powerful. “David, David, David,” he chanted, tantric, and the answer was a high-pitched wordless groan and David’s walls tensing and fluttering around him.
When David finally came, it was with a shiver and a sigh and only the slightest dribble of fluid, spilled into Rhys’s hand. Rhys licked his fingers clean, swallowed with all the gratefulness and reverence he gave the eucharist, and careened over the edge after him, still repeating David’s name.
Rhys’s heart hammered, he shook with the aftershocks of his sudden frenzied exertion. David, on the other hand, fell asleep near-immediately. Rhys pulled his limp body onto its side, curled protectively around his warmth, and let himself come down slowly.