wakey wakey

[maliceaforesock]

morning after






┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme
→ COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE.
→ PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND HIT UP RNG (01-10), OR CHOOSE A SCENE OF YOUR OWN.
→ PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY.
( keep in mind that sexual scenarios are the basis of this meme! please enter with caution )
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the scenarios

① BREAKFAST IN BED;
your partner is up and about -- maybe dressed, maybe not -- and in the kitchen. what are they making you? could it be... grilled cheese?

② HIT ME BABY;
they're such a peaceful sleeper. a peaceful, sexy sleeper. actually there's too much of that sleeping happening. why don't you wake the up, world's kindest alarm?

③ ESCAPE FROM AZKABED;
you wake up to find they're rummaging about for their clothes, about to leave. why the rush, can't you convince them to stay?

④ THE AFTERNOON AFTER;
and the evening, maybe even the morning after after... hours have passed but you just can't leave each other! or maybe one of you just won't...

⑤ HANGOVER FROM HELL;
there's a tiger in the closet, a baby in the bathroom, and a total stranger curled up beside you. who is this person beside you, smelling of tequila and regret? do they know any more about what, or who, went down than you do?

⑥ WET AND WILD;
don't feel too lonely waking up by yourself -- the shower's on and the sound of water falling is mighty inviting. why don't you get cleaned up -- or down and dirty all over again?

⑦ I'LL SLEEP WHEN I DIE;
sleep? what is this sleep thing you speak of? dawn's breaking and neither of you have gotten a wink, or want one. who's ready for round xxx?

⑧ A BITTER PILL;
turns out the reason you scored wasn't your sparkling wit and magnetic confidence. your partner had an ulterior motive -- they already knew it and you're about to. recon? revenge? rebound? tag and find out, if you can handle the truth!

⑨ THIS ISN'T MINE;
that sleepy person in your living room had a great night -- with your roommate. well, might as well get to know each other while you're both there, right? ... right?

⑩ WILD CARD;
roll more than once and combine scenarios, choose your favorite, or make up your own!

Comments

[cemarche]

[ there is something witty to say in reply, there are many somethings on Serge's tongue but the pressure around his dick stops all of them. teeth clack together and the grunt that makes it past his lips sounds like agreement but then even had it not, his hips are rolling up into the hand on him.

MM fists are motherfuckers, yes?

fingers bite into the wrist snug between them but Serge doesn't pull MM's hand away, he only holds onto it. there is a quiet debate going on in his pounding skull but in the end it is one he always loses. they will never be stable, he and MM. they are too much like fuse and fire, non? so why not.

Serge arches beneath MM's heavier frame, grinding himself upward in invitation. ]

[milkpunch]

Yeah, that's what I figured. [ Frenchie arches up, and Milk backs away. Raises his hips and lowers so that he's resting on his elbow, mouth bristling against Frenchie's jaw again. Monsieur Mouthwash indeed, but hopefully some of that can be forgiven in his palm. ] Face down, Frenchie. Come on. Ain't got it in me to toss you around right now.

[cemarche]

[ Serge breathes roughly in and out of his nose. ]

Enfoiré, [ he grumbles after a moment, unwilling to reject the hand on his cock in order to belabor the point of how he feels like a whore, being ordered onto his stomach. the hand is too good and the likeness to a whore, well. perhaps he would not go so far but he is never very careful with his touches. ] You would not like what happened if you tossed me around anyway, [ Serge says, muttering as he twists around on the bed, rolling over in the way that keeps the pressure where it's important.

he does still and look back over his shoulder. ] No more pillows. My gun is around here somewhere. Don't make me find it.

[milkpunch]

[ Frenchie can hate the order as much as he needs to. For MM, it makes everything easier. Easier to stretch his arm up over Frenchie's head and hang his own head down, mouth brushing the crown of French's head. Easier to hug the tangle of wires and weed below him tight, nested in the curve of MM's torso and the cradle of his hips. Easier to find a natural, smooth jack when his fingers slip under the waistband and wrap around Frenchie's cock. ] 

I got your gun right here, cowboy.  

[ Like this, it's easy to tell that Milk's biology isn't running quite as hot as Frenchie's this morning. His hips roll with the root-to-tip strokes, but this early, this hungover, every inch pressed against Frenchie is soft. ]

[cemarche]

[ Serge's outside knee slides up against the mussed bedding to keep space for MM's hand to work in even as he slaps MM's shoulder for the bad, terrible joke. the abuse is distracted, though, light, and his fingers have better things to do; they fall and curl into the fitted sheet. of all mornings, on this one he needs an anchor.

Serge's body moves back into MM for a moment with a matching roll and upward grind of hips but while his cock is happy to be awake, his stomach? not so much. so he stills under the weight and breathes through his nose, letting the other man work him. there is no hardness against his backside but MM is warm, and heavy, and his hand is very nice--there is no need for a matching erection to know that MM is enjoying himself. it is good. lazy, comfortable. Serge's eyes drop closed for the long strokes of his friend's callused hand and the pleasure slowly creeps under his skin, shifting his focus away from his unsettled insides. even his headache feels more distant. ] C'est bon, [ he murmurs. his shoulder blades press against MM's chest and then sink back again. ]

[milkpunch]

[ He is enjoying himself. The way Serge moves when he moves--Milk bows his head into the crook of Frenchie's neck, hand slowing and arm tightening over his waist. ] Parle moi. [ His accent is rough, he doesn't know much, but he can understand more than he speaks and god it's nice to hear. Like being someplace else. Any place else. But a little sun and a lot of sleep and Serge pushing up into him like that, that would be just fine. 

[ MM grazes up his neck, coarse beard and soft mouth and teeth scraping over his ear. ] Parle moi, Serge, c'mon...

[cemarche]

[ merde, why must MM ask like that? the french, his real name--these things that are never made a point of normally, now they make Serge's skin feel tight. they make him needy. they make him want things. ]

Plus vite s'il vous plait. J'ai besoin de plus. [MM finds his ear and Serge whines against the sheets. ] Please, [ he repeats in english, his hips jerking forward to try and find a renewed pace, ] please, MM, more. Faster. Ne me fais pas supplier, connard. [ his hand releases the sheets and jumps to find the back of MM's warm neck, to hold him close. even the necklace that bites against Serge's palm is warm from the man's body. ] Je ne peux pas supporter d'aller lentement maintenant. Je vais mourir.

[milkpunch]

What's that they say? What doesn't kill us...? [ He's teasing, if the tone and smile twisting down the side of Frenchie's neck are any indicators. Even so, it's only one more sticky-slow pass (thumb running a hard line up his shaft, palm smearing over the tip before twisting back down) before Milk gives him the pace he's asking for. Even so, the skin under Frenchie's palm prickles, soft muscles winding tighter as he pulls Frenchie's hips back into himself. ] You can beg. Just a little. 

[cemarche]

[ the hand on his cock robs him of any decent retort and Serge just groans, open-mouthed, against the sweat-sour sheets. his hips go with the pressure of MM's tug; it is increasingly easy to be pliable when the twisting heat in his gut is more incessant than his unstable stomach. with the new pace he begins to move again, little shudders of motion pushing him back if only so that he can thrust forward. ] Goddamnit, MM, [ nothing but gasps, ] fucking harder. S'il te plaît!

[ he doesn't have fingernails, which is better for MM as Serge curls his fingers down against skin. ]

[milkpunch]

[ Faster-harder takes concentration. His breath rushes, supporting arm drops to scoop under Frenchie on one of those wiggles back and forth and wrap from his ribs to his shoulders, pinning him back. Faster, harder, fist moving quick where his body takes up a slow roll in rhythm with his deep draws from the hollow of Frenchie's neck. ] 

I got you. [ Low, slow, deep enough that the noise comes out of his throat less than it comes out of his chest. ] I got you, baby, come on.

[cemarche]

[ there have been so many times Serge has whispered sweet nothings into someone's ear while in bed, coaxed them on, asked them to come--

but this is different. MM is different. how his arms are large enough to wrap around Serge until he has no choice, the rumble of that deep voice, those fucking words, like Serge is not standing at his back day to day, also covered in blood, but something fucking délicat, something worth something. worth anything. ]

Va te faire foutre, [ he pants out, his hips jerking shallowly, trapped as his body is. Serge closes his eyes and pulls on MM's neck as the quick, tight fuck of that callused hand and the murmur against his jaw bring him off. he grunts and shivers as his orgasm ruins any rhythm or further words. ]

[milkpunch]

[ Milk's encouragement melts into stern kisses behind his ear, at this hinge of his jaw. They punctuate his strokes, gradually fewer and farther between, till the laziest slide comes paired with teeth scraping over Frenchie's pulse and an incredibly smug chuckle. The hand at his shoulder shifts under his shirt, broad fingertips tracing the spaces between Frenchie's ribs. ] Now...tell me that wouldn't be improved...with a view of the ocean.

[cemarche]

[ Serge's hand releases skin and falls to the mattress as his lungs start to work again. he pulls shallow breath at the combination of the teeth and the continued strokes against too-sensitive skin. and the fucking fingers on his side. despite the orgasm, his entire body feels wound too tight, frayed slightly. exhaustion, surely. ] A beach would smell better, [ he groans out.

and then, in a quiet exhale: ] The beaches in France are incroyable.

[milkpunch]

A beach in France. [ Milk hums in agreement, hand drifting up from Serge's cock and along his hip. For a few seconds, hot and quiet here, they can be close and still. He's smelled worse anyway. ] Guess we'l have to try it again when we're next in France.

[ His palms spread flat and sure along Serge's skin, clutching him close. ] You can take the shower while we still got hot water. [ A firm set of kisses trailing up his neck, gentle teeth scraping over his ear. ] And then you're on breakfast duty.