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[sockblocked]

THE — giving or receiving — BLOWJOB MEME ( the brother meme to this one. ) Whether it's your characters very first time getting a blowjob, their millionth, or they're the one giving head, sometimes, you just want to play giving or getting dome. No need to wax poetic about it. Let's get down to business, ladies and gentlemen! No matter if you thread oral as foreplay, in combination with other acts, a moment of emotional connection, an awkward ender to a scene when someone comes and can't get it back up, or anything in between, this is the meme for you. Comment with your character & your preferences. Male characters, be sure to specify whether you're down with giving or receiving, though some preferences will make that obvious. Female characters, just come as you are! Reply to others. Put those lips to good use.

Comments

[bestdressed]

[ It's so deeply satisfying to be able to cause that shift in Anders' demeanor, the needy noise wrenched from this throat, the soft, bemused laughter. He knows how good it must feel, and it makes him feel good to do it. He's achingly hard beneath his own robes at the moment, without even so much as laying a hand on himself.

In truth, the idea that the other man could be hiding anything of significance doesn't even occur to him. His personality coupled with the image he's presented so far--the humble apostate healer--is enough to endear him to Dorian, even without his name.

Grinning, Dorian licks a long, wet stripe back up the path he'd just traced with his lips. ]

I would say that you were flattering me, ser,

[ good-natured, humorous, flirting even now, ]

except that you're exactly right.

[ Dorian contents himself with more amorous licks and kisses, laving his tongue over and around the thick cockhead, eagerly lapping up and swallowing drops of salty precome. ]

[problemagic]

[A shiver runs down his spine at the long, wet lick up the underside of his cock, the downright wicked grin on his companion's face. He runs his hand through Dorian's hair, pushing it back off of his forehead. His fingers tighten, not pulling or pushing his head but certainly enjoying having Dorian's silky hair between his fingers.

He chuckles affectionately, the sound cut off by a breathless sound as Dorian keeps laving his tongue over the head of his cock, teasing him relentlessly.]

I know a man who deserves to be flattered when I see one.

[bestdressed]

I could say the same.

[ It certainly seems like his apostate paramour could do with a little appreciation, and Dorian is more than willing to use his mouth for that in more ways than one. His fist glides smoothly along the spit-slick length of him in long, encouraging tugs as he alternates between suckling coyly at the tip and licking at a vein just beneath. He lets the head of the man's cock rest on his lower lip, keeping his mouth open so that Anders can watch the way his tongue plays over him. ]

Kaffas, just look at you. You're lovely.

[ It's a low murmur, though he very much means for Anders to hear it. ]

Knew right away I wanted to get on my knees for you. I thought perhaps a mage from the south would want to put a pampered son of Tevinter in his place. But you? No. Something sweeter, I think.

[ Something more intimate, like the sound of Dorian's voice. ]

I want you to fuck my mouth--but slow and deep, until you can't hold back.

[problemagic]

[Maker, that's one hell of a sight. Anders bites back a whimper, breath unsteady and his thighs trembling with the effort it takes to stay upright, to stay still. The sight of the head of his cock resting on Dorian's spit-slick and swollen lower lip makes his breath hitch in his chest and his cock throb, a bead of precome beading up beseechingly for Dorian's tongue.

His hand cards through Dorian's hair with an increase in desperation, raw little noises muffled by his other hand. Dorian's voice was like honey, and his hot breath over the head of Anders' cock was going to drive him insane.

His hips buck into Dorian's slow-stroking hand at the order, and his grip tightens in Dorian's perfect hair.]

Maker- Please.

[bestdressed]

[ Every crack in Anders' domeanor is a victory, and Dorian takes pride in the way he can feel his legs shaking, the muscles of his thighs quivering beneath his grip even as his hips shift of their own accord. The taste of him on his tongue is thick, heady, perfect--as perfect as the sharp tug on his hair. The hissed intake of breath it causes isn't even intentional.

Well. How could he deny a man who pleads with him so sweetly?

With no further preamble, he shifts forward a little more on his knees and closes his lips around the first several inches of Anders' cock. He lets it press into his mouth with a low groan, settling full and heavy and hot on his tongue. His fingers massage the base as he sinks down further, eyes closing for only a moment as he swallows at the point where his gag reflex might have otherwise interfered. He does this smoothly, with a practiced ease, and then his gaze is trained upward again, grey eyes through dark lashes. ]

[problemagic]

[Anders sucks in a breath and holds it, heavy and tight in his chest, not trusting himself to even breathe lest he unspool into scattered ribbons of want and need and pure overwhelming desire as Dorian takes him in again. He can't take his eyes off of the other mage, even as his lips close around his cock again, tongue flat against the underside. His fingers tighten and then shift for a better grip in Dorian's hair, as the other reaches up and runs through his own hair, an excited gesture that looses his ponytail and sends his golden hair falling into his face, just finding someplace to put his energy.

It's agony, waiting for Dorian to decide how deeply he wants to take Anders' cock. His thighs are shaking with the effort it takes to wait to thrust forward, and when Dorian's dark, gorgeous eyelashes flutter open again and he looks up at him with lust-blown grey eyes, Anders can't resist anymore. The breath he was holding shakes out of him, around the knuckle still pressed between his teeth like a gag, and his hips roll forward as his grip on Dorian's hair pulls him in.]

That's it. Perfect, Dorian, Maker-

[His voice is a breathless whisper, and his hand leaves his mouth, joining its match in tugging at Dorian's hair. Before he starts pushing the boundary, he has to set a limit.]

Tap me if you need me to stop. Understood? Blink once for yes.

[bestdressed]

[ Dorian feels his own cock twitch distinctly beneath layers of fabric and leather when Anders' fingers comb through his hair, disheveling it in just the sort of way Dorian had wanted to himself. It catches on the low light filtering up from below, falling around his face, golden and loose. It makes him look softer, more vulnerable, and distinctly more sexed, which is a combination of traits Dorian appreciates very much. Maker, how he wants to run his fingers through it himself, clutch tight at the back of his neck and kiss him so deeply they both have to clamor for breath.

Time enough for that, though, after he's fully enjoyed sucking him off, reveled completely in the aroused edge of his voice when he speaks his name, when he calls him--

Perfect, yes, that seems about right. He can't help but hum around the other man's cock in appreciation, the sound turning into a choked-off moan when Anders takes hold of his hair with his other hand. Oh, that's good. That's what he likes. He braces himself, prepared to take as much of him at whatever pace Anders desires, and to enjoy every moment of it. But that isn't what happens, and it takes a moment for his mind to register the next few words.

Telling, that it spears right to Dorian's heart that a man should want to make sure he's comfortable while having his face fucked. Telling, that he should feel more well cared for here on his knees with a stranger in a tavern hallway than he has in the beds of his peers at home.

Dorian blinks once, slowly and deliberately, and hopes the healer takes it for what it is: not only permission, but eagerness. And if that wasn't enough, he sucks very deliberately around his mouthful, cheeks hollowing obscenely. His hand leaves the base of Anders' cock, slides instead very obviously between his own legs, palming himself in a futile attempt to assuage his own arousal. ]

[problemagic]

[He waits for Dorian to blink with bated breath, and when he sees those grey eyes close, slowly and deliberately, he sighs out a breath and smiles, petting his hands through Dorian's hair and lightly scraping his nails against his scalp.]

Good--

[And then Dorian sucks, boldly, on his mouthful of Anders' cock, and Anders almost - almost - yelps. His thighs shake and his knees nearly buckle, and he fists his hands in Dorian's hair, urging him to take more in.]

Oh, please- Yes, Dorian-

[He's still a little gentle at first, as if this is too good to be true, as if he's waiting for Dorian to tap out, but he uses his hands in Dorian's hair to guide that perfect mouth back, and then forward, each time further down the shaft than the last.]

Maker, that's- that's so good--

[bestdressed]

[ Dorian adores that gentleness. He loves the way Anders takes his time with him, makes sure he can take a little more each time he guides him back onto his cock. And he can take it, of course, relaxes his jaw and swallows around Anders' length every time he feels it pushing into his throat.

He loves the way his lips stretch around him, the way he feels, thick and hot and velvety on his tongue, demanding only in the way he pushes in further each time. But that's just what Dorian had asked. It isn't long until he's able to take him in entirely, the whole of his shaft sliding in and out of Dorian's mouth as he's guided back and forth. He loves that, too, the hands in his hair, firm but not rough.

And Dorian may be the one getting fucked, but it's Anders who looks wrecked, and he is a sight--a flush high on his cheeks, hair undone around his face, murmuring half-formed praise in a voice broken with arousal. Dorian can't help but keep looking at him as he works him over to the very extent of his ability. Not only does he take him in deep, he alternates between sucking him each time he pulls back and tonguing at the head of his cock when he pushes back in.

There's loud laughter from downstairs, and somewhere music strikes up, but these things seem so far away and unimportant. The only things that matter are the way the other mage feels and tastes and looks, and the way he can't help but moan around him as he rubs a palm along his own cock through his clothes. ]

[problemagic]

[Anders bites his lip raw trying to hold back the keens and whimpers that threaten to spill out of him. His heart is pounding from the adrenaline of knowing that they could be caught at any moment. When Dorian moans low around his cock, he makes a startled, desperate noise that's thankfully drowned out by the music and loud laughter from downstairs.

He holds Dorian's head down, his thighs shaking as he pushes his cock deeper into Dorian's mouth on instinct, letting him slide back only a couple of inches before pressing back in. His frantic whimpers are getting more desperate, one hand keeping a grip on Dorian's hair while the other alternates between also gripping it and combing it back from his face so he can see the other mage's pretty gray eyes, can watch that gorgeous mouth take his cock, and Maker it's all quickly becoming too much, too fast.]

Do- Dorian, I'm--

[bestdressed]

[ He can tell he's close, even before his name tumbles from the other mage's lips in a tone that's no less than desperate. He can tell by the noises he isn't quite succeeding in silencing, those soft whimpers loud to Dorian's ears. He can tell by the increasingly uncoordinated way he's fucking him, less guiding him and more rutting into his mouth in quick stutters of his hips, fingers either gripping tight or moving distractedly through his hair.

The tension is palpable in his thigh, where Dorian's hand rests. They've gotten this far already without being noticed, but anyone could still round the corner and come up the stairs, find Dorian with the handsome healer's cock pressed down his throat, on the edge of bringing him off. But as electric as the risk is, Dorian very much wants this moment to be private. This is for the two of them alone. He wants to see what this man looks like when he comes, wants to taste the bitterness of his seed on his tongue.

So he practically purrs with approval at Anders' warning--a noise he knows feels as good as it sounds--and happily lets the man use his mouth for his pleasure. His tongue rubs along the underside for added friction and he swallows very deliberately. He can feel the way the man's cock twitches when he's pressed all the way in, and knows it really will be only a matter of moments.

In that case, Dorian squeezes Anders' thigh lightly, resisting the hands in his hair by pulling back just far enough that the head rests on his tongue. His hand returns to the rest of the shaft, twisting around the spit-slick skin in firm, encouraging strokes. He laps at the glans at the head with relish, the flat of his tongue both caressing and cradling. He worships the healer's cock like he would little else, and makes low, throaty sounds of pleasure as he does. No one he'd ever serviced this way could possibly doubt how much he enjoyed himself, how much he simply liked sucking dick. ]