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Gilderoy had never been one for parties.Too many people, too little space, too few visible exits…the list went on and on. He’d attended well over a dozen throughout his career, typically pressured into attending by a noble he was trying to secure a sale with; he could probably count on one hand how many of said sales actually went through.
Tonight’s reception had been different, though—Auguste’s reception, rather, had been different.
The celebration started hours ago, though Gilderoy could hardly remember why. Post-production? Investor fundraising? Or surely some combination of the two? He couldn’t say for certain, as he’d been swept into the party spirit all the same with the others, surprisingly enough.
Had it been the drink? The champagne had been deceptively strong, and the one flute Gilderoy had finished nearly coursed through his veins. Or maybe it’d been the live band? Their elegant yet energetic tunes were certainly to his liking. The manse practically rumbled with the collective commotion.
Or mayhap it’d been Auguste himself, handsome, doting host that he was, who floated effortlessly through the crowd, chatting with each guest with what appeared to be the charming familiarity of a close friend. Each smile and laugh appeared more genuine than the last, and he exuded his charm all throughout the room; it was no wonder the other guests had been so ecstatic to speak with him, to bask in his splendor. Gilderoy couldn’t blame them.
Naturally, he wanted the same.
So when Auguste had finally made his way to him, his little secluded stretch of space tucked into the back of the hall (by a large pair of double doors that he’d hoped led outside, in case of emergency), Gilderoy found himself almost immediately captivated; by the way he spoke, by the way his dark eyes surveyed him, by the way his touch lingered on the his forearm. Though if this exchange were to proceed like any of Auguste’s previous ones, that meant it was sure to end shortly, and he was soon to move onto his next guest. Gilderoy knew this was an inevitable part of playing host, but…part of him still craved more of the playwright’s time, anyway.
If only there was some way to hold his undivided attention even longer…
…
Thank the gods for the countless guestrooms lining the halls, Gilderoy thought, biting particularly hard on Auguste’s bottom lip between kisses. Any other venue and they would’ve had a much harder time finding a place to sneak off to, and Gilderoy found himself thanking them again for his familiarity with the manse, as well.
“Ah,” came Auguste’s faint gasp, bordering so close on a moan that the jeweler was tempted to sink his teeth even deeper into the flesh. Cool hands left Gilderoy’s still woefully clothed back and moved to cup his face instead, gently caressing his cheek. He pulled free and held the other man’s gaze in his own bewitching one, breathless, before continuing, “You’ve been meaning to steal me away, haven’t you?” He swayed slightly where he stood against the door, and had it not been for Gilderoy’s strong grip at his waist, Auguste most definitely would have stumbled by now.
For a moment, Gilderoy eyed his puffy, wet, steadily reddening lip, then leaned back into the playwright. “Mm,” he grunted, low, eyes fluttering shut once their foreheads finally made contact. No, he hadn’t planned on pulling the man aside like this the entire night, but for some reason he couldn’t outright deny the claim. “Maybe so,” he eventually mumbled after some mulling. His own curious hands inched further down his waist, to the upper swell of his lover’s rear, and sighed shakily, lustfully, against him.
Auguste offered a playfully wry laugh in response, breath tickling Gilderoy’s lips almost teasingly. “You don’t think I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me all evening?”
Once again, Gilderoy couldn’t quite deny that. He’d admittedly caught himself staring at the dashing playwright several times—okay, nearly every time he entered his line of vision if he was being completely honest—before they wandered off to this room.
He shook free from the man’s grasp, pressing a mouthy kiss to his cheek, then down his jaw and along his neck, careful not to nibble too hard and leave any marks along the pale exposed skin. “Like you weren’t starin’ back,” he retorted between smooches, reveling in the way that groan in Auguste’s throat rumbled against his lips.
Should he continue palming at his lover’s ass? Drag his calloused hands up to the deep ‘V’ of his shirt and explore that toned skin to his heart’s content? Or perhaps he ought unclasp the fibulae fixing that pesky cape to his body, undo that saffron sash around his waist so as to better access both?
Auguste’s fingers trailed to his hair then, fumbling with the tie on his ponytail for so embarrassingly long that Gilderoy begrudgingly took his hands off the man’s hips and reached up to undo it himself, though he never once lifted his nose from his nape. Gods, he smelled so good, of the Woodlands maples and tobacco; so distinctly noble, yet so uniquely him. Gilderoy inhaled him deep, as if committing his scent to memory.
“Mm, thank you,” Auguste mused, his smile palpable as he tangled his fingers in the mess of blue locks and pulled, hard, until Gilderoy was wide-eyed and level with him once again.
Gilderoy himself sucked in a hard breath through his nose, swallowing the gasp the man nearly wrought from him with the motion, but ultimately released it a shudder that he knew his lover wouldn’t overlook.
And, true to Gilderoy’s suspicions, Auguste’s eyes narrowed next, an extension of that grin he was no doubt wearing, before tilting his own head and wordlessly closing the space between them again with another kiss, more passionate than the last if that was even possible. They moved against each other with an almost practiced ease at first, though it wasn’t long before Gilderoy was licking and nibbling at those already swollen lips again, begging for entry. As usual, Auguste eventually complied, parting his lips and allowing the jeweler’s hungry tongue access to his even sweeter mouth, which tasted faintly of that eve’s featured Valorian white.
Auguste’s motions took a much more languid pace comparatively, gently pressing his own tongue back against Gilderoy’s voracious one. His hands slowly slid free from Gilderoy’s hair, trailing past his neck though not without first squeezing ever so gently, and down to his chest. Here, he got to work quickly undoing those buttons, slowly exposing even more of Gilderoy’s strong torso to the cool air of the manse.
Once completely undone, Auguste set both his hands flush to him and ran them along the expanse of muscle before him, as if exploring it for the first time. The thought alone had Gilderoy’s mind swirling, and when those slender fingers finally found his nipples, first grazing, then gently pinching and pulling, he groaned quietly, deflating into the man.
Ever the tease, that Auguste…Gilderoy was certain the playwright could maintain this momentum for another hour, maybe even longer, and while Gilderoy was usually patient enough to go along for the ride, tonight the distinct, borderline painful tightness in his trousers demanded expedition.
Remembering the chaise lounge he’d spotted by the desk upon entering the room, Gilderoy broke the kiss, trying to ignore the ensuing sound of protest from Auguste and gesturing over his shoulder. “Couch,” he said curtly, voice husky with barely restrained lust. “Now.”
And thus the pair relocated, never once taking their hands off each other as they stumbled over rugs and side tables to the chaise. Gilderoy was the first to plop down on the upholstery, followed closely by Auguste, who’d motioned to straddle his legs on the way down—evidently careful not to sit in his lap, much to Gilderoy’s chagrin.
“Aha,” Auguste chimed, settling back onto those strong thighs and resting his hands on the jeweler’s toned chest. Slowly, he dragged his cool fingers down that equally strong abdomen, and Gilderoy struggled not to squirm in anticipation. They only paused once they hooked into Gilderoy’s waistband, teasing the edge of the man’s tented trousers as the playwright himself leaned in even closer. “No wonder you were so keen on relocating.”
Heat rushed to Gilderoy’s cheeks, both at the accusation and the forward gesture, and as he opened his own mouth to stammer an ultimately pointless defense, Auguste lessened the space between them again, pinning the man with yet another mouthy kiss. Despite their newfound closeness, deft fingers quickly undid the merchant’s fly, slipping through the sea of thick pubes until they eventually palmed at his thick length, hot, heavy, and begging for attention.
Gilderoy himself started at the much needed contact, and he inhaled sharply through his nose when those fingers wrapped around him, gently pumping his cock. It took every bit of self-restraint he had to keep from rolling his hips into that hand, and judging by the way Auguste huffed against him, haughtily, he knew the playwright could parse this, as well.
Even so, Gilderoy’s once dormant hands wandered back up past his lover’s thighs, initially (and unsurprisingly) palming at his ass again before grabbing fistfuls of the fabric and tugging them down. A pitiful plea for more, sure, and far from his typical style, but his mouth had been preoccupied, so he essentially had no other option.
He felt Auguste hum against him then, the soft vibration ringing pleasantly throughout his own mouth, before lifting himself off of Gilderoy’s thighs; to the latter’s initial displeasure, as he found himself missing his lover’s proximal warmth almost instantly. Then, he felt more fingers brush past his, Auguste’s free hand, no doubt, followed by some shifting; his pearly grey trousers were loose at his rear in the next moment, and Gilderoy wasted no time yanking them down, freeing his prize.
“Desperation is such a good look on you, mon chat,” Auguste purred, leaving his own trail of kisses along Gilderoy’s jaw.
Gilderoy offered a scoff in response. “Yeah? What of i—shit…” He shuddered a quiet curse when Auguste’s grip around him tightened a touch, wrist flicking on the following upstroke.
“Ah—just a moment.” Auguste released him, leaning even further into Gilderoy as he reached into one of the jeweler’s many pockets. He fished out a thick, rosy vial, the emergency oil Gilderoy kept on his person for times like this, and pried the cork off with his teeth, drizzling some of its warm contents along his length. Then, after hastily setting the glass on the side table, he resumed his motions, stroking Gilderoy with considerably greater ease. “There—much better, wouldn’t you say?”
‘Better’ was certainly an understatement, as he’d nearly bucked his hips into that hand on the first easy glide. Gods, he really was desperate…perhaps that was why he’d released his grip on Auguste’s behind, bringing his dominant hand up to his mouth and slipping two fingers past his breathy lips—which, fuck, had he been panting this whole time? He lapped at each digit until they were plenty slick with his saliva, a difficult task what with Auguste’s hands working him like putty; then, he looped his hand back behind Auguste, back to his deliciously spread ass, and pressed a wet finger to his entrance.
This prodding earned Gilderoy another throaty groan from Auguste, this time directly against his neck as the playwright had all but slumped against him. Music to his ears, he thought as he slipped that finger inside, slowly, relishing in the way Auguste trembled against him as he sunk deeper and deeper into him. He paused before the playwright had taken him down to the second knuckle, withdrawing until only the very tip remained, just long enough for both to catch their deepening breaths before pushing back in. Gods, he felt so warm enveloping him, and comfortably snug, too. If his fingers could come…
“Yer doin’ so good,” Gilderoy breathed, nuzzling up against Auguste as best he could given their positions. “So, so good…” He turned and pressed a kiss to the man’s rapidly warming cheek, grinning to himself when he felt the playwright melt further into him. “Think you can take another?”
Auguste nodded hastily against him, offering a quiet, affirmative moan along with it.
In turn, Gilderoy pressed a second finger to his hole, nearly moaning himself at how easily it’d slipped in. The playwright had taken him with little difficulty, and so charmingly, too. Perhaps, Gilderoy thought as he curled his fingers slightly on the following downstroke, he ought reward him?
He felt Auguste stiffen against him again, this time followed by an even louder moan, one that reverberated throughout the small room. Ah, yes. Must’ve hit the sweet spot. Gilderoy’s grin widened then, eyes narrowing mischievously as he curled his fingers a touch further, as far as Auguste would allow, and fucked him a tick faster. He felt Auguste’s thighs twitch hard around him, and the man cursed loudly before all but collapsing atop him.
Just as fatigue was beginning to set in Gilderoy’s wrist, he felt Auguste push weakly against his neck, pressing wet kisses to the sensitive skin as he arched his back even further. Trying for a different angle?
“Mmm…that’s enough,” Auguste slurred into him, sloppily pushing himself off of the jeweler. Gilderoy promptly withdrew his fingers, eyeing Auguste’s swaying form for a moment before meeting his lidded, lust-drunk gaze again. His slightly disheveled appearance paired with his bruised lip only added more fuel to Gilderoy’s fire, and the latter found himself thanking the gods again when Auguste scooted further into his lap, hovering inches above his slicked cock. Auguste took his length into his hand then, never once breaking eye contact as he lined it up with his own entrance. “What say you we proceed with the main act?”
Another light shudder wracked Gilderoy’s body, anticipatory this time, as he nodded with a touch more zeal than he would have liked to—though, was it really a crime to crave one’s partner as enthusiastically as he did? “Let’s,” came his eager response.
Auguste watched him for a moment, the corners of his lips curling slightly before he slowly lowered himself onto Gilderoy’s cock. Gilderoy, of course, wished to watch him back, to observe his every scrumptious reaction, but the initial pleasure of penetrating him had proven too much; by the time Auguste had taken his thick head, Gilderoy’s eyes were fluttering shut, head slumping slightly as a low groan rumbled in the back of his throat. Somehow, despite all the sex they’d had over the years, he always forgot just how divine he felt.
He could, at the very least, feel Auguste’s thighs shaking slightly around him, could hear his harsh pants as he struggled to take him. The playwright always had from this position, claiming the change in angle made Gilderoy’s cock feel thicker within him. He had to find the extra fullness pleasant, at least, what with as often as he insisted on steering like this.
Auguste shifted his hand from Gilderoy’s cock back up to his chest, bracing himself against him and the equally sturdy back chaise as he inched further and further down his length. That palm felt balmy against Gilderoy, unsurprisingly so, and had it not been load-bearing, Gilderoy would have peeled it off his chest, taken it into his own hand, and pressed kiss to it.
It wasn’t long before Auguste’s rear had made contact with Gilderoy’s pelvis, and both men groaned shakily in tandem. Such a snug fit…Gilderoy turned to face the man again, meeting his hot, expectant gaze with a lidded one of his own. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the desperate pounding in his chest before dragging his own hands up to Auguste’s waist.
Just as he was about to start rubbing circles into the muscle, he felt Auguste lift his hips up off of him until only the very tip of his dick remained inside. Then, slowly, the playwright lowered himself back down, taking Gilderoy’s every inch until his ass fell flush to him a second time. Gilderoy’s grip on him tightened, and he heaved another shaky breath in an effort to calm himself before Auguste moved again. He already felt close, dangerously so, but he had to compose himself if he wanted to prolong their time together.
He felt Auguste lift his hips again in the next moment, quicker, as if meaning to rise to his feet, and this time Gilderoy sucked in a breath at the sudden coolness on his dick; then, just as quickly, Auguste brought himself back down.
“Fuuuck,” Gilderoy half-sighed, half-moaned, feeling his own body lurch desperately and embarrassingly toward Auguste’s. It had taken every last bit of willpower in him not to sit up, pin Auguste flat to the chaise, and fuck him until neither of them could think. He suspected Auguste would enjoy it, too, if that lecherous glint in his eye was any indication of how he’d fared. For now, Gilderoy distracted himself by grinding his hips back into him, savoring the way Auguste’s grip on him and presumably the chaise tightened.
“Oh…that’s how you want to play?” Auguste taunted playfully. He dropped his chaise hand down to Gilderoy’s chest and leaned in close, until his bang tickled Gilderoy’s face. “Hold on tight.”
Gilderoy watched on, eyes widened as he felt Auguste rise up off of him and nearly slam back down, this time continuing the fluid motion over and over and over again, steadily gaining speed in an extraordinary feat of the knees. His ass was practically bouncing against him, an obscene smacking of skin against skin, and Gilderoy found his breaths growing labored as he struggled to keep pace.
“Fuck—,” Gilderoy wheezed again between shamless groans. “Fuck— Gods above, that’s good—”
“Oh?” Auguste drawled, grinding his hips extra hard into Gilderoy on the next downstroke. “And are the gods here with us now, making you feel this good? Try again.”
Were it not for that distinct coil of heat in his gut, indicating his climax was even more imminent than he thought, Gilderoy might’ve actually entertained this banter. For now, all he could manage was some incoherent babble on how good Auguste felt, how stunning he’d looked that evening, how much he loved him—
It wasn’t long before Gilderoy was sinking his nails into Auguste’s waist, bucking his hips almost sporadically as he came with a loud, choppy groan, a sea of stars filling his vision as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He could still feel Auguste rocking his hips against him, steadily riding him through the pleasure.
As the silver finally dissipated and Gilderoy finally came down from his high, he peered tiredly at the sweaty mess of Auguste before him—Gilderoy had no doubt that he looked worse, what with his own hair being splayed loose against the cushion, but he was too spent to care. He felt Auguste slow to a stop atop him, settling onto his lap.
Auguste was the first to break the comfortable silence. “...I take it you enjoyed the show?” he eventually posed, cocking his head curiously.
“Very much so,” Gilderoy nodded, rubbing soothing circles into the crescents he was sure he left in Auguste’s skin.
Auguste beamed back. “I’m pleased to hear it. You know I pride myself on being a doting host.”
Doting, indeed, Gilderoy thought with a satisfied sigh. Though, he could still feel his lover’s half-hard cock pressed against his stomach, surely aching for its own release. “Shit…what of you—”
“Later, mon chat,” Auguste reassured, grinding his ass against his softening cock. “For now, let us catch our breaths and return to the festivities, hm?”
Gilderoy furrowed his brows a moment, then relented, figuring himself too tired to properly take care of the man. “Mm,” he eventually agreed, looping one arm around Auguste’s back. Later, though, whatever it was to entail…Gilderoy found himself giddy at the thought. Perhaps sticking around for the remainder of the party wouldn’t be so agonizing, after all?