Marius sees the bottle fall and land on the other side of the bed out of of the corner of his eyes; the lube may as well vanish into thin air in the next instant for all he cares, caught up as he is with all of Freddie's teasing and that grin, making his body ebb like the tide across the bed, seeking more of that touch currently so delicate and light. In the wake of his orgasm, Marius feels even the smallest touch most keenly; his breath hitches and his thighs tremble with each circling motion of Freddie's fingers.
Freddie's gaze on him inspires more fluidity to his motions; more urgency. Marius' hand glances against the heat of Freddie's skin and he knows Freddie must be aching himself. His touch strengthens as he drags his hand down Freddie's body, down his chest, as his own hips roll and he moans.
And then that finger is, suddenly, inside him once again, moving deeper and at different angles. Marius moans louder, more insistent, with his body arching more sharply at the friction. All of him is flush with wanting and sensation, sprawling through him like sea foam across waves at Freddie's touch. He feels as though he hasn't yet come down from his previous bout of pleasure; his hand curls against the heat of Freddie's chest.
"Dieu, Freddie!" He exclaims as that searching knuckle brushes against a deep, soft spot in him that sends stars shooting through his veins. Marius' whole body shudders, neck arching against the pillows as he writhes into Freddie's touch, frantically craving more of it. Again, French curses fall from his mouth, in between more fervent, voluptuous cries. His chest quakes as he can't seem to catch his breath.
And Freddie is so composed, asking him again about the drawer beside them. The sort of composure that encourages Marius' lips pressing together, teeth occasionally scraping the surface of his lower lip, as he tries to form a coherent answer.
"Still looking," he manages on a huff of breath, hand shakily reaching in the direction of the drawer. His hand again pauses when Freddie slides a second finger into him, digging into the bed briefly before Marius brings it to grasp at the bare skin of Freddie's chest along with his other hand. He moves them both to grasp desperately at Freddie's back, tugging him closer as his hips move faster.
"Keeping getting distracted," he tries to tease but the crack in his voice rather gives him away.
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Freddie's gaze on him inspires more fluidity to his motions; more urgency. Marius' hand glances against the heat of Freddie's skin and he knows Freddie must be aching himself. His touch strengthens as he drags his hand down Freddie's body, down his chest, as his own hips roll and he moans.
And then that finger is, suddenly, inside him once again, moving deeper and at different angles. Marius moans louder, more insistent, with his body arching more sharply at the friction. All of him is flush with wanting and sensation, sprawling through him like sea foam across waves at Freddie's touch. He feels as though he hasn't yet come down from his previous bout of pleasure; his hand curls against the heat of Freddie's chest.
"Dieu, Freddie!" He exclaims as that searching knuckle brushes against a deep, soft spot in him that sends stars shooting through his veins. Marius' whole body shudders, neck arching against the pillows as he writhes into Freddie's touch, frantically craving more of it. Again, French curses fall from his mouth, in between more fervent, voluptuous cries. His chest quakes as he can't seem to catch his breath.
And Freddie is so composed, asking him again about the drawer beside them. The sort of composure that encourages Marius' lips pressing together, teeth occasionally scraping the surface of his lower lip, as he tries to form a coherent answer.
"Still looking," he manages on a huff of breath, hand shakily reaching in the direction of the drawer. His hand again pauses when Freddie slides a second finger into him, digging into the bed briefly before Marius brings it to grasp at the bare skin of Freddie's chest along with his other hand. He moves them both to grasp desperately at Freddie's back, tugging him closer as his hips move faster.
"Keeping getting distracted," he tries to tease but the crack in his voice rather gives him away.