Some things don't need explanations. Chicken wings. Wonderful weather. Guilty pleasures like Michael Bay movies. This meme is one of those things. It's simple: one character is in another's lap, and eventually the two get hot and heavy. Whether it's a friend sitting on a lap because there's no room, couples cuddling, or a stripper giving a lap dance, one thing will lead to another...after all, the loss of personal space can certainly set actions (and more) in motion.
Prompts
Innocent Lap Sitting: It's just a friendly gesture. Maybe you're enjoying a movie or a dinner together. Nothing wrong with that!
Romantic Canoodling: You two are spending some time together, and there's no way to be closer than to snuggle up in your lover's lap.
Out of Necessity: No more room on the bench, in the booth, or on the couch? There's a place on their lap.
Amateur Lap Dance: Just something sexy between lovers. Or maybe more silly than sexy.
Professional Lap Dance: Better break out the ones. This lap dance will cost you.
Dare: Nobody ever thought you'd get this close and personal, so they pushed you into doing it.
Pointed: They said you couldn't turn them on so easily. Challenge accepted.
Accidental: Oops, you've fallen! Good thing this lap was there.
Step Back I Feel a Little Poke: Wait. What's this? Maybe you should wiggle your hips a little to find out.
Lovemaking Lapsitting: Riding someone while they're sitting up can make the rider feel powerful, since they're on top, but the one being ridden may notice just how soft and small they are...and embrace them out of instinct.
An improvement by a landslide. With Lexaeus shifting upright, Zexion cants his body close, forward, which pushes everything into perfect alignment, pressed firm to his partner's rippled abdomen, which is far more satisfactory than standing erect and unattended. It frees up both his hands, too, which run greedily up and down Lexaeus's arms to the elbow, warming over their shape. Perching on top of his lap also gives Zexion the illusion of feeling just slightly less dwarfed, and Lexaeus doesn't have to bow quite so far to get at his neck. (Which is such a nice feeling, warmth of a mouth easing at the tension straining there.
Propping one elbow up over a sturdy shoulder, the smaller man buries a hand in the back of Lexaeus's hair and threads his fingers through the coarse, kinked ends, twisting and toying with them loosely between forefinger and thumb. He rides up, sinks all the way down... and then, still hanging on and fully impaled, rocks himself treacherously backward at an angle that pushes that thick girth inside of him right up against his swollen gland. That makes him gasp and reel forward, slamming his prick along the sweaty washboard of Lexaeus's stomach as he seizes back up onto his knees again, only to repeat process.
It's shamelessly, comfortably, achingly potent, this deep and pleasurable feeling swallowing him up. Lexaeus inside of him, making his muscles throb, blinds him to all other troubles and is the perfect compliment... and maybe they really don't require completion after all, so long as they have this, agonizingly steady. Zexion tries to keep from picking up his pace deliberately, doesn't want to come until he knows for certain that the force of it will wipe his mind numb for the remainder of the evening.
He has blacked out once or twice before, from the ferocious intensity of climax slamming into every nerve, retreating into that dark, safe, warmer space within his mind. The world was blurry and warm and Lexaeus was still holding onto him, when he came to. After a day like this one, he wouldn't mind driving himself to that again.
The fingers combing through his hair feel like a small massage themselves, shooting tiny tingles down his neck that ease and spread through his rigid shoulders, Zexion clinging onto him as though he'll never let go again. He won't dare to mark unless Zexion plans on wearing his hood up for the next few days, so he covers as much skin as he can with his lips, jumping up and down Zexion's neck with wet kisses and the barest hint of teeth. Hot gasps and exhales blow right into his ear to match the bounce on his dick; normally he'll curl his hands under Zexion's thighs and move for them once his comrade's too spent in his thighs to keep up the pace, but he keeps them against Zexion's back, holding him as close as he can.
When they're clinging to each other like this, it always seems more intimate and personal than should be allowed for beings like them. Here they can spend a night pretending like they can fill the void in their chests, stealing away time like two young lovers who can't peel themselves apart from each other for mere minutes. Returning their hearts comes all the more urgent, not just to be complete, but to also experience what this may be like when they are complete.
He pries his mouth off Zexion's neck, giving himself room to grunt and sigh at the measured roll of Zexion's hips over him. It's obvious his bedmate is taking this deliberately steady, making each bounce all the more powerful, each clench even tighter as his erection swells and throbs in response despite how Zexion has loosened up just enough around him. At this rate, it's clear they'll be skipping the usual breakfast hour.
Lexaeus tilts his head, once again seemingly unable to help himself with indulging in acting as though this is much deeper than a quick, private moment. He plants more kisses up Zexion's neck, a few behind an ear, a few more along his sharp jaw, and ends halfway over Zexion's open mouth, drinking up each strained moan. The most he can grab is his comrade's rosy lower lip between his own, sucking it in and rolling a flat tongue over it. Kissing carried over from his days as Aeleus, now mostly pointless for a Nobody but a habit that's been hard to kick. He can still appreciate the physical aspect of it, from the soothing warmth of kissing a cheek to the desperate sucking of swollen lips and hot tongues right before pleasure peaks. Being upright like this means less room for movement from his own thighs, but he thrusts back as best as he can, at least until Zexion growls he needs more and Lexaeus can grab his hips and pound into him as fast as his arms are able.
When this mess began, Zexion had been too young to know any intimacy like this, and so there were moments where he seems to lose himself just drinking it all in, trusting that Lexaeus would allow him that. Now and then he'll pause, go completely still and make a quietly contemplative hum of a noise, as if trying to soak up true meaning in the way his partner moved his mouth along skin.
Aeleus may have had memories to guide him, but Zexion was running on instinct and wonder, still finding more and more to discover in the urgent sensation of lips and tongue dragging against his neck. It feels as though his partner is absolutely everywhere all over him, not the least of which inside. He didn't think it possible for Lexaeus to get any thicker, any more swollen, but Zexion would swear he is. The sensation is a little cramped, dense, and yet so perfectly pleasing all at once whenever he leans just so and feels like his release may just burst out unless he yanks his body up and all but dislodges the cock inside him all over again.
But then Lexaeus is breathing against his mouth, and his tongue lapping over his full lower lip- prone to sulking in tight pouts but even more prone to worrying on the inner lip with his teeth, or rubbing absently with gloved fingertips while he's musing over the day's troubles in an unconscious gesture of self-soothing. It's an entirely different feeling to have someone else's mouth upon him, and although the tingle of a moogle's healing potion is the strongest medicinal taste upon them, he'd swear he can taste the slightest hint of sweetened mint tea lingering there, too- the kind they serve in small glass ups at market stands in Agrabah. He parts his mouth to welcome it, and an effervescent dizziness dances behind his eyes, warms beneath his ribs.
If I had been loved, would it feel like this?
Those are dangerous thoughts, and Zexion tries to shove them aside in spite of himself, bury it in the sheer intensity of his grinding and fucking himself on his companion's lap. He can only go at it so long energetically, chasing the edge of it higher and higher in wave-like swells, before the slight quiver in his thighs and the low sounds of effort in his throat suggest that an enduring strength's failing him, running low before their lust. He's too proud to ask for help outright, but his tongue mashes up against Lexaeus' with the kind of insistence that goads for him to take over dictating their momentum.
There's no way Zexion can mask the trembles in his limbs as his legs begin to give out, not when someone like Lexaeus is so attuned to the ripples and layers of muscle over a body. The insistent tongue pressing past his teeth only serves to delay the inevitable, though he takes the chance to soak up the moment and drink in every breathy whine that breaks past Zexion's lips. The stuttering halt of Zexion's bouncing in his lap is enough to draw out little grunts from his as well, muffled over the wet slides of his tongue over his closest comrade. He rocks his pelvis from one side to the next, freeing up a little breathing room between his legs for his straining sac as the skin starts to chafe from perspiration and heat.
How very much like Zexion to stubbornly swallow down any sharp orders for assistance (or daresay, begging) even as the jutting roll of his hips lose their force and can only squirm in frustrated need. Lexaeus' hands slide around the backs of Zexion's thighs before they completely give out, gripping as much as he can and rising the shaking body over him with ease. A day of blasting away sand dunes and crushing rock under unforgiving heat do not affect his ability to raise Zexion against him, with barely a pulse in his well-worn arms. Keeping his companion warmly against his chest is a simple task he could do for much, much longer.
The slow slide of Zexion's ass rising up him is strenuous indeed to maintain, if the sharp bull-like exhales from his nostrils are any indication. He doesn't stop until the head of his cock threatens to slip out, fingers digging into those inner thighs in tension as it only seems to make Zexion clench around him harder, like it may be impossible to thrust back in. He holds just enough to take a steady, meditative breath, calming the dizzying buzz within his chest.
Then he moves, just in the way Zexion's learned he likes, powerful hands drawing him up and down to pound him over his dick. Lexaeus' hips tilt barely a fraction back, angling at just the right arc to meet little resistance, filling the room with heavy sounds of slicked skin slapping against each other that could dare to slip past the cracks of the bedroom door. It's a concern that's now too much effort to care about in the middle of fucking his companion as frantically as he can, and Zexion hardly needs to move at all on his own and simply cling on.
Zexion's overworked himself specifically to wear himself down, craving exhaustion and ache in his abdomen and the backs of his thighs to match the invariable soreness that comes with taking Lexaeus this deep. He knows he's not built to be tireless, that physically he can only strive so far until his breath is struggling, half-smothered in clumsy kissing, and his muscles show their weakness. He'd ever want anyone else to see that, but he's safe to reach his limits here, to let himself quiver and his rhythm falter.
Because he knows that Lexaeus will pick up the slack effortlessly, and in the moment that those warm hands come up under him, there's a renewed vigor in the wrap of his arms and a nipping bite mouth to mouth, finding his balance with ease between the span of his hold. There's no protest, no resisting, just a throaty moan of relief as Lexaeus hoists him up for a precarious pause...
And then he's all but slammed back down, impaled and bouncing, the force and pace so steady and yet crazed all at once, a wildness that sends his bangs swinging between their faces. Zexion pulls apart and buries the bridge of his nose against the Silent Hero's shoulder, teeth worrying open mouthed against hot skin while his tongue patterns in manic circles. Lexaeus works them like a piston, like well-oiled pieces of pounding industrial machinery made flesh, and Zexion knows he can't stop himself from the inevitable coil that's about to be sprung, the rush of young and healthy seed that gushes up between them and coats their bellies, stringy and opaque.
He roars furiously when he feels it, the excess intensity wheezing and whining out through his nose, but the sound is all but muted into the bulk of his partner's skin and hard muscle. There's such a fierce, palpable brightness surging violently through his limbs, ringing at a boiling throb in his overfull insides, gripping tight in sharp and jerky flinches until he's quite sure he's wrung himself dry, as though to make room for all that Lexaeus is about to unload up his ass.
Making a lover fall to pieces had always been a delight for Aeleus, and here with Zexion is almost enough to make Lexaeus wonder if he hadn't quite lost that sensation when darkness ripped away his heart. The gnawing on his shoulder teeters on the edge of digging marks as Zexion struggles to muffle his pleasure (and anyone could tiptoe through the hallway, and Lexaeus doubts he would hear it over the blood roaring in his ears).
His grip skids further up Zexion's thighs, following up the plump curves of his ass to spread those cheeks wider apart. The way Zexion can clench down and tighten around him threatens to make his head spin, daring to steal away any last remains of control he holds over his own body, like a hapless soul trapped in Zexion's illusions. He can't mask the quaking trembles in his belly that throb against Zexion's erection, nor the strained, broken grunts in the back of his throat that normally come out when he's close. It's hot, slick enough to make his hold falter while trying to maintain a greedy pace, and it's not long before Zexion tenses against him and spills a sticky gush of come between them, oozing trails dripping and smearing down their fronts.
Even then Zexion still manages to cling down onto him, and Lexaeus knows exactly what he's asking for. His breath comes out in ragged pants, like he's forgotten years of breath training and technique, hands almost at a blur then slamming down in place as he finally reaches his peak. Another mighty tremble rolls through him, coursing down his spine and culminating between his legs, swollen sac rising and pulsing out bursts of hot seed through his cock and deep within Zexion. The rest of his body seems to curl around his comrade, arms starting to wander upward as waves of pleasure rack his body before settling into blissful exhaustion several moments later.
What essentially equals two rigorous workouts in half a day is even enough to takes its toll on the Silent Hero. He's still mindful to keep Zexion close and gently lean back, letting his strength snap free at the last second to collapse back against the mattress with a heavy sigh.
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bakerstreet2015-02-12 08:47 pm
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Propping one elbow up over a sturdy shoulder, the smaller man buries a hand in the back of Lexaeus's hair and threads his fingers through the coarse, kinked ends, twisting and toying with them loosely between forefinger and thumb. He rides up, sinks all the way down... and then, still hanging on and fully impaled, rocks himself treacherously backward at an angle that pushes that thick girth inside of him right up against his swollen gland. That makes him gasp and reel forward, slamming his prick along the sweaty washboard of Lexaeus's stomach as he seizes back up onto his knees again, only to repeat process.
It's shamelessly, comfortably, achingly potent, this deep and pleasurable feeling swallowing him up. Lexaeus inside of him, making his muscles throb, blinds him to all other troubles and is the perfect compliment... and maybe they really don't require completion after all, so long as they have this, agonizingly steady. Zexion tries to keep from picking up his pace deliberately, doesn't want to come until he knows for certain that the force of it will wipe his mind numb for the remainder of the evening.
He has blacked out once or twice before, from the ferocious intensity of climax slamming into every nerve, retreating into that dark, safe, warmer space within his mind. The world was blurry and warm and Lexaeus was still holding onto him, when he came to. After a day like this one, he wouldn't mind driving himself to that again.
no subject
When they're clinging to each other like this, it always seems more intimate and personal than should be allowed for beings like them. Here they can spend a night pretending like they can fill the void in their chests, stealing away time like two young lovers who can't peel themselves apart from each other for mere minutes. Returning their hearts comes all the more urgent, not just to be complete, but to also experience what this may be like when they are complete.
He pries his mouth off Zexion's neck, giving himself room to grunt and sigh at the measured roll of Zexion's hips over him. It's obvious his bedmate is taking this deliberately steady, making each bounce all the more powerful, each clench even tighter as his erection swells and throbs in response despite how Zexion has loosened up just enough around him. At this rate, it's clear they'll be skipping the usual breakfast hour.
Lexaeus tilts his head, once again seemingly unable to help himself with indulging in acting as though this is much deeper than a quick, private moment. He plants more kisses up Zexion's neck, a few behind an ear, a few more along his sharp jaw, and ends halfway over Zexion's open mouth, drinking up each strained moan. The most he can grab is his comrade's rosy lower lip between his own, sucking it in and rolling a flat tongue over it. Kissing carried over from his days as Aeleus, now mostly pointless for a Nobody but a habit that's been hard to kick. He can still appreciate the physical aspect of it, from the soothing warmth of kissing a cheek to the desperate sucking of swollen lips and hot tongues right before pleasure peaks. Being upright like this means less room for movement from his own thighs, but he thrusts back as best as he can, at least until Zexion growls he needs more and Lexaeus can grab his hips and pound into him as fast as his arms are able.
no subject
Aeleus may have had memories to guide him, but Zexion was running on instinct and wonder, still finding more and more to discover in the urgent sensation of lips and tongue dragging against his neck. It feels as though his partner is absolutely everywhere all over him, not the least of which inside. He didn't think it possible for Lexaeus to get any thicker, any more swollen, but Zexion would swear he is. The sensation is a little cramped, dense, and yet so perfectly pleasing all at once whenever he leans just so and feels like his release may just burst out unless he yanks his body up and all but dislodges the cock inside him all over again.
But then Lexaeus is breathing against his mouth, and his tongue lapping over his full lower lip- prone to sulking in tight pouts but even more prone to worrying on the inner lip with his teeth, or rubbing absently with gloved fingertips while he's musing over the day's troubles in an unconscious gesture of self-soothing. It's an entirely different feeling to have someone else's mouth upon him, and although the tingle of a moogle's healing potion is the strongest medicinal taste upon them, he'd swear he can taste the slightest hint of sweetened mint tea lingering there, too- the kind they serve in small glass ups at market stands in Agrabah. He parts his mouth to welcome it, and an effervescent dizziness dances behind his eyes, warms beneath his ribs.
If I had been loved, would it feel like this?
Those are dangerous thoughts, and Zexion tries to shove them aside in spite of himself, bury it in the sheer intensity of his grinding and fucking himself on his companion's lap. He can only go at it so long energetically, chasing the edge of it higher and higher in wave-like swells, before the slight quiver in his thighs and the low sounds of effort in his throat suggest that an enduring strength's failing him, running low before their lust. He's too proud to ask for help outright, but his tongue mashes up against Lexaeus' with the kind of insistence that goads for him to take over dictating their momentum.
no subject
How very much like Zexion to stubbornly swallow down any sharp orders for assistance (or daresay, begging) even as the jutting roll of his hips lose their force and can only squirm in frustrated need. Lexaeus' hands slide around the backs of Zexion's thighs before they completely give out, gripping as much as he can and rising the shaking body over him with ease. A day of blasting away sand dunes and crushing rock under unforgiving heat do not affect his ability to raise Zexion against him, with barely a pulse in his well-worn arms. Keeping his companion warmly against his chest is a simple task he could do for much, much longer.
The slow slide of Zexion's ass rising up him is strenuous indeed to maintain, if the sharp bull-like exhales from his nostrils are any indication. He doesn't stop until the head of his cock threatens to slip out, fingers digging into those inner thighs in tension as it only seems to make Zexion clench around him harder, like it may be impossible to thrust back in. He holds just enough to take a steady, meditative breath, calming the dizzying buzz within his chest.
Then he moves, just in the way Zexion's learned he likes, powerful hands drawing him up and down to pound him over his dick. Lexaeus' hips tilt barely a fraction back, angling at just the right arc to meet little resistance, filling the room with heavy sounds of slicked skin slapping against each other that could dare to slip past the cracks of the bedroom door. It's a concern that's now too much effort to care about in the middle of fucking his companion as frantically as he can, and Zexion hardly needs to move at all on his own and simply cling on.
no subject
Because he knows that Lexaeus will pick up the slack effortlessly, and in the moment that those warm hands come up under him, there's a renewed vigor in the wrap of his arms and a nipping bite mouth to mouth, finding his balance with ease between the span of his hold. There's no protest, no resisting, just a throaty moan of relief as Lexaeus hoists him up for a precarious pause...
And then he's all but slammed back down, impaled and bouncing, the force and pace so steady and yet crazed all at once, a wildness that sends his bangs swinging between their faces. Zexion pulls apart and buries the bridge of his nose against the Silent Hero's shoulder, teeth worrying open mouthed against hot skin while his tongue patterns in manic circles. Lexaeus works them like a piston, like well-oiled pieces of pounding industrial machinery made flesh, and Zexion knows he can't stop himself from the inevitable coil that's about to be sprung, the rush of young and healthy seed that gushes up between them and coats their bellies, stringy and opaque.
He roars furiously when he feels it, the excess intensity wheezing and whining out through his nose, but the sound is all but muted into the bulk of his partner's skin and hard muscle. There's such a fierce, palpable brightness surging violently through his limbs, ringing at a boiling throb in his overfull insides, gripping tight in sharp and jerky flinches until he's quite sure he's wrung himself dry, as though to make room for all that Lexaeus is about to unload up his ass.
no subject
His grip skids further up Zexion's thighs, following up the plump curves of his ass to spread those cheeks wider apart. The way Zexion can clench down and tighten around him threatens to make his head spin, daring to steal away any last remains of control he holds over his own body, like a hapless soul trapped in Zexion's illusions. He can't mask the quaking trembles in his belly that throb against Zexion's erection, nor the strained, broken grunts in the back of his throat that normally come out when he's close. It's hot, slick enough to make his hold falter while trying to maintain a greedy pace, and it's not long before Zexion tenses against him and spills a sticky gush of come between them, oozing trails dripping and smearing down their fronts.
Even then Zexion still manages to cling down onto him, and Lexaeus knows exactly what he's asking for. His breath comes out in ragged pants, like he's forgotten years of breath training and technique, hands almost at a blur then slamming down in place as he finally reaches his peak. Another mighty tremble rolls through him, coursing down his spine and culminating between his legs, swollen sac rising and pulsing out bursts of hot seed through his cock and deep within Zexion. The rest of his body seems to curl around his comrade, arms starting to wander upward as waves of pleasure rack his body before settling into blissful exhaustion several moments later.
What essentially equals two rigorous workouts in half a day is even enough to takes its toll on the Silent Hero. He's still mindful to keep Zexion close and gently lean back, letting his strength snap free at the last second to collapse back against the mattress with a heavy sigh.