Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/242196.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Chronicles_of_Narnia_RPF
  Relationship:
      Skandar_Keynes/William_Moseley
  Character:
      Skandar_Keynes, William_Moseley
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Underage_Sex, RPF, Mentions_of_Roleplay, Blowjobs,
      Power_Dynamics, Established_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-06-11 Words: 804
****** hours of devours ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Skandar, Will, and the recreational misuse of wardrobe items.
Notes
     Originally posted to livejournal.
     paints my taste on his face/i'm in disguise at this feast of ours/
     hours of devours
     -- -- Auf der Maur, "Beast of Honor"
Will likes it when he wears just his costume socks and shoes whenever they mess
around. It turns Will on to see him propped up on his elbows and biting
anxiously at his bottom lip like they've never done this before. Gets Will off
to see him looking up through his lashes like he's shy or something, those
stupid socks pulled up to his skinny, freckled knees and the heels of those
awful shoes pressing into the edge of the mattress.
Skandar doesn't really see what the draw is meant to be, he personally thinks
he looks an absolute twat, but he does it anyway, he doesn't mind. Because it
gets Will all flushed and sweaty, makes his hands quick and rough and his mouth
so, so wet. Because it's fucking perverse, filthy, utterly depraved.
Skandar likes depraved. He loves it, to be honest. Because it isn't normal,
isn't boring, isn't so incredibly Will. Will could be so fucking boring most of
the time, so proper and correct, so we mustn't, shouldn't, wouldn't you rather
have some tea, Skandar? So there's something rather exciting about seeing
Will's hands pushing his knees apart, eyes dark with lust and his mouth hanging
open a bit, his hair a wreck from Skandar's frantic fingers. Something
thrilling about watching Will's tongue slide up the inside of his thigh and
Will's lips pressing a hard, closed-mouth kiss right where thigh meets body and
Will's mouth slipping down over his cock.
Not that he watches much of that bit. Not that he can considering how brilliant
it feels. Not that he can ever do anything but gasp and groan, pull at the
sheet and let his head fall back as Will's tongue slips round the tip and
presses down along the underside and teases at the slit. All sucking and
sliding and slippery slick over and over until Skandar's sure he'll go mad from
it before he'll ever come, until he's begging.
Will moans around his cock whenever he begs, like it's the most wonderful thing
he's ever heard. Skandar can't see how it could be -- can't ever even manage to
think about the completely stupid things that fall out of his mouth later
without blushing and scowling, in fact. But there's no helping it, really. Not
when he knows that it will get Will to suck him harder, faster, deeper, until
he can't even breathe for how good it feels. Until he can't even think about
anything but the tightness in his balls and rushing in his ears and the
pounding in his chest and the ever-present scratch of wool socks round his
calves.
Sometimes Will sucks him until he comes and sometimes Will doesn't. Sometimes
Will pulls back, panting harsh and hot over his skin, and orders him to wank
himself. He likes it better when Will doesn't stop, likes the way it feels to
come in Will's mouth, likes it when Will swallows it, but he doesn't really
mind the wanking that much. The look on Will's face when he does it is almost
as good as the way his mouth feels. So he does it, untwists his fingers from
the sheet beneath him or the pillow under his head and reaches down, wrapping
them around his cock, still slick with Will's spit and so hard because Will
always makes him so hard.
Will's fingers dig into the backs of his knees before he can even get a rhythm
going, pushing his legs even further apart and then up, bending him at the
middle until his arse is practically in the air, until Will can see everything,
all there is to see. His face always burns later just thinking about it but it
doesn't stop his gut from twisting hot at the memory of Will's face, the gleam
to his eyes and the shine to his lips, the way he just stares. Stares at
Skandar's face (twisted up with concentration) or his hand (fisting his cock
roughly) or his arse (pale and exposed and perfectly untouched though not from
lack of want) or the bands of stupid fucking socks pulled up tight just under
his knees. Stares and stares and stares until Skandar is tensing up, gasping
stupid and deep as he comes over his own fist, wet and warm and sticky,
splattering onto his stomach and chest. Skandar doesn't know what it is that
Will likes about watching him come like that, all awkward and bunched up, but
he doesn't care either. Because, whatever it is, it's him -- it's Will looking
at him. And that's all he's ever really wanted.
Will likes it when he wears just his costume socks and shoes whenever they mess
around. Skandar secretly has a feeling that even if Will were to ask him to
wear Georgie's costume he wouldn't mind.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!