midsummer is still for outdoor fucking :D
Nov. 18th, 2014 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzieRainaut leans down, wraps his arms around Brother Peire's head, and breathes "My God loves you too" across his mouth. "And your God must love me. We are blessed, my brother, my friar."
And for the first time since he was turned out of Montagui, Brother Peire can well believe it.
Rainaut stays there for a while, bent over Brother Peire, his hips now shifting back and forth. Brother Peire reaches around him and down to cup his ass and encourage him, although Rainaut seems to be doing just fine without help, if his moans and the pleasure rolling through Brother Peire's body are any indication.
He is out of his head and very nearly out of his body, caught up in this ritual to honor a God he doesn't believe in, with a man whose faith he can't share, as part of a community he never wanted to join. But he doesn't care. God will forgive him or not. It doesn't matter to him which. He is out in the fields, under the stars, utterly consumed with desire, panting and moaning and saying things he doesn't even understand, blindly following Rainaut's lead because right now he will follow Rainaut anywhere.
Rainaut presses his forehead against Brother Peire's. "Does your God see us," he murmurs, breathless. "Does He know."
"Know, know what?" Brother Peire answers. He can taste Rainaut's breath on his lips, the mead and the sticky roll, and he wants to pull it into his own mouth, wants to swallow Rainaut's breath and his quiet grunts as his hips move steadily back and forth, back and forth, still riding Brother Peire even hunched over.
"That you're here, with me, in service of my God. That you offered yourself to me for my God."
"No. No. Not for your God. For you. I'm here for, for – hnn – Rainaut - " He can feel his pleasure building, slow and warm and inexorable. But he wants to draw this out, wants to lie like this as long as he can – as long as they both can – Rainaut on top of him, surrounding him, their heads together and their mouths so close they could kiss if they only tried.
"Shh. Shh." Rainaut runs his hands through Brother Peire's hair, damp and curly with sweat, and he tilts his head just enough to kiss Brother Peire's mouth. It's a sloppy, open-mouthed, distracted kiss, but Brother Peire loses himself in it anyway.
He is lost, adrift, floating in a sea of grass, paradoxically buoyed up by Rainaut's weight on top of him. When they lie together in bed, back in their cell, he is loud and unashamed in his pleasure, but here, outside, with no one close enough to hear them, he is very conscious of the noises he's making, and distantly, drunkenly careful to be quiet. It feels more sacred to him, more sanctified, to murmur his arousal, rather than to cry it out for anyone who might hear.
God can still hear him. And if he could form the sentence, he would tell Rainaut that God does see them, and He does know.
But what He thinks and how He will respond, Brother Peire can't guess.
"Peire," Rainaut murmurs, "are you close, tell me – tell me you are."
Brother Peire can only nod. Rainaut puts his hands on Brother Peire's chest for leverage. Brother Peire cups the back of his head.
"Soon," Rainaut continues. "Soon. Let God hear you, brother. God should hear us both."
His hips are moving faster now, rolling and grinding, and Brother Peire can't breathe, so subsumed is he in his incipient climax and the hot, intense desire washing over him. He can't focus on Rainaut's face, just his hands and his body and the noises coming from his mouth, growing louder as he gets closer and closer to his own climax.
It seems that they reach it together, gasping out their release to each other rather than to Rainaut's God. Brother Peire is left feeling as if he's made of light, like the tiny flames of a thousand chapel candles burning just under his skin. He feels as if he might float away, if not for Rainaut's weight still heavy across his hips and his thighs.
"That was amazing, my brother," Rainaut tells him, voice dark and breathless. "A blessing on us, for us, from my God." He brushes his lips across Brother Peire's, but there's no pressure there, no want. It's an afterthought, a small instance of physical affection. "Did you see your God?"
"I felt Him. I know He saw us. He knows my heart and my, my – I don't think He would approve. But He saw."
"Does it bother you?"
Nothing bothers me, Brother Peire thinks. I am too overcome. He shakes his head.
Rainaut maneuvers himself off Brother Peire, lies down next to him, and pulls him close. "I'm going to pass out," he says. "Arms and legs around you, still feeling you inside me." Another brush of his lips, this time pausing so his tongue can snake out and flick at Brother Peire's mouth, which opens to it. They kiss deeply, exhausted and sated and still intoxicated, but caught up in each other and in the ritual and the pleasure.
"My brother," Brother Peire murmurs. "I'm, I'm, I don't even know. I drank too much and wanted you too desperately - "
"That's what Midsummer is for, friar." Rainaut tangles his hand in Brother Peire's hair, and Brother Peire rests his head against Rainaut's shoulder. "To sanctify that desire. But I wanted you too. Don't think too hard. It isn't a night to think, just to do."
"I did. Didn't." He chuckles against Rainaut's skin. He can hear his words slurring together, made indistinct by the mead and his and Rainaut's coupling. "I don't know what I'm saying."
"I do."
Rainaut rolls onto his back, taking Brother Peire with him. Brother Peire throws his arm across Rainaut's chest and his leg across Rainaut's thigh and breathes in the scent of him, sweat and the crushed grass underneath them and what Brother Peire thinks might be the scent of slaked desire. He can hear Rainaut's heart beating, strong and steady, and with that sound in his ears, he falls asleep.
He wakes several hours later to Rainaut shaking him gently. He still feels a little drunk, but a headache is starting in his temples and his eyes are hot and dry. He blinks, noting fuzzily that the sky seems to be lightening. It must be near dawn. Rainaut is sitting on the grass next to him, wearing breeches but not a shirt, holding a bottle. It might even be the bottle from last night, that they brought out here so they could bless their coupling with wine. There's grass in Rainaut's hair. He holds out the bottle and Brother Peire, with some difficulty, manages to sit up enough to take it. The world spins around him and he nearly lets himself fall back onto the grass.
"I found us some mead," Rainaut tells him, leaning close to him. "Drink it and put your mouth on mine and let me bury myself inside you." His breath is hot and heavy on Brother Peire's lips. Brother Peire puts the bottle to his lips and drinks. There isn't much left and he finishes it.
Rainaut takes it back, drops it behind him, and pushes Brother Peire down onto his back to attack his mouth. He struggles out of his breeches, his mouth never leaving Brother Peire's. He sprawls on top of him, pinning Brother Peire to the ground, legs falling to either side of Brother Peire's thighs, hips rubbing against him and hands holding his face still.
Brother Peire digs his fingers into Rainaut's upper arms and wraps his legs around Rainaut's waist and feels himself growing hard as they grind together. Rainaut's mouth tastes like mead and his body feels like coiled desire.
Soon he's parting Brother Peire's thighs, stroking himself for good measure, sucking on his fingers before sliding them inside Brother Peire's body. Brother Peire moans despite himself, and then Rainaut is guiding himself in, burying himself deep, and stretching out over Brother Peire to cover him once again.
Rainaut's thrusts are shallow, if steady, but he's planted as far inside Brother Peire's body as he can be. He wraps his arms around Brother Peire's head and Brother Peire once again wraps his legs around Rainaut's waist as Rainaut's hips push in and in, trying to drive himself ever deeper.
He pants open-mouthed against Brother Peire's lips and Brother Peire moans into his mouth.
"This is, is three," Rainaut says, his voice deep and breathless. "Enough and more than. I needed you one more time."
"Just – just once?" Brother Peire manages.
"All the time, friar. All the, the – unh – yes – yes – ahh, God - "
Brother Peire can feel him go stiff and trembling, breath stuttering and turning into a low moan as he releases himself inside Brother Peire's body.
"Now you," Rainaut says finally, sitting up just enough to take Brother Peire in hand and stroke him to his own climax.
They curl up together in the light of the rising sun, both of them still half-drunk and completely, utterly satisfied. Brother Peire can't form a coherent thought, and even if he could he doesn't have the energy to articulate it. He only wants to sleep, and to dream about his body and Rainaut's and all the pleasures they can take from and offer to each other.
words: 1572
total words: 40,346
And for the first time since he was turned out of Montagui, Brother Peire can well believe it.
Rainaut stays there for a while, bent over Brother Peire, his hips now shifting back and forth. Brother Peire reaches around him and down to cup his ass and encourage him, although Rainaut seems to be doing just fine without help, if his moans and the pleasure rolling through Brother Peire's body are any indication.
He is out of his head and very nearly out of his body, caught up in this ritual to honor a God he doesn't believe in, with a man whose faith he can't share, as part of a community he never wanted to join. But he doesn't care. God will forgive him or not. It doesn't matter to him which. He is out in the fields, under the stars, utterly consumed with desire, panting and moaning and saying things he doesn't even understand, blindly following Rainaut's lead because right now he will follow Rainaut anywhere.
Rainaut presses his forehead against Brother Peire's. "Does your God see us," he murmurs, breathless. "Does He know."
"Know, know what?" Brother Peire answers. He can taste Rainaut's breath on his lips, the mead and the sticky roll, and he wants to pull it into his own mouth, wants to swallow Rainaut's breath and his quiet grunts as his hips move steadily back and forth, back and forth, still riding Brother Peire even hunched over.
"That you're here, with me, in service of my God. That you offered yourself to me for my God."
"No. No. Not for your God. For you. I'm here for, for – hnn – Rainaut - " He can feel his pleasure building, slow and warm and inexorable. But he wants to draw this out, wants to lie like this as long as he can – as long as they both can – Rainaut on top of him, surrounding him, their heads together and their mouths so close they could kiss if they only tried.
"Shh. Shh." Rainaut runs his hands through Brother Peire's hair, damp and curly with sweat, and he tilts his head just enough to kiss Brother Peire's mouth. It's a sloppy, open-mouthed, distracted kiss, but Brother Peire loses himself in it anyway.
He is lost, adrift, floating in a sea of grass, paradoxically buoyed up by Rainaut's weight on top of him. When they lie together in bed, back in their cell, he is loud and unashamed in his pleasure, but here, outside, with no one close enough to hear them, he is very conscious of the noises he's making, and distantly, drunkenly careful to be quiet. It feels more sacred to him, more sanctified, to murmur his arousal, rather than to cry it out for anyone who might hear.
God can still hear him. And if he could form the sentence, he would tell Rainaut that God does see them, and He does know.
But what He thinks and how He will respond, Brother Peire can't guess.
"Peire," Rainaut murmurs, "are you close, tell me – tell me you are."
Brother Peire can only nod. Rainaut puts his hands on Brother Peire's chest for leverage. Brother Peire cups the back of his head.
"Soon," Rainaut continues. "Soon. Let God hear you, brother. God should hear us both."
His hips are moving faster now, rolling and grinding, and Brother Peire can't breathe, so subsumed is he in his incipient climax and the hot, intense desire washing over him. He can't focus on Rainaut's face, just his hands and his body and the noises coming from his mouth, growing louder as he gets closer and closer to his own climax.
It seems that they reach it together, gasping out their release to each other rather than to Rainaut's God. Brother Peire is left feeling as if he's made of light, like the tiny flames of a thousand chapel candles burning just under his skin. He feels as if he might float away, if not for Rainaut's weight still heavy across his hips and his thighs.
"That was amazing, my brother," Rainaut tells him, voice dark and breathless. "A blessing on us, for us, from my God." He brushes his lips across Brother Peire's, but there's no pressure there, no want. It's an afterthought, a small instance of physical affection. "Did you see your God?"
"I felt Him. I know He saw us. He knows my heart and my, my – I don't think He would approve. But He saw."
"Does it bother you?"
Nothing bothers me, Brother Peire thinks. I am too overcome. He shakes his head.
Rainaut maneuvers himself off Brother Peire, lies down next to him, and pulls him close. "I'm going to pass out," he says. "Arms and legs around you, still feeling you inside me." Another brush of his lips, this time pausing so his tongue can snake out and flick at Brother Peire's mouth, which opens to it. They kiss deeply, exhausted and sated and still intoxicated, but caught up in each other and in the ritual and the pleasure.
"My brother," Brother Peire murmurs. "I'm, I'm, I don't even know. I drank too much and wanted you too desperately - "
"That's what Midsummer is for, friar." Rainaut tangles his hand in Brother Peire's hair, and Brother Peire rests his head against Rainaut's shoulder. "To sanctify that desire. But I wanted you too. Don't think too hard. It isn't a night to think, just to do."
"I did. Didn't." He chuckles against Rainaut's skin. He can hear his words slurring together, made indistinct by the mead and his and Rainaut's coupling. "I don't know what I'm saying."
"I do."
Rainaut rolls onto his back, taking Brother Peire with him. Brother Peire throws his arm across Rainaut's chest and his leg across Rainaut's thigh and breathes in the scent of him, sweat and the crushed grass underneath them and what Brother Peire thinks might be the scent of slaked desire. He can hear Rainaut's heart beating, strong and steady, and with that sound in his ears, he falls asleep.
He wakes several hours later to Rainaut shaking him gently. He still feels a little drunk, but a headache is starting in his temples and his eyes are hot and dry. He blinks, noting fuzzily that the sky seems to be lightening. It must be near dawn. Rainaut is sitting on the grass next to him, wearing breeches but not a shirt, holding a bottle. It might even be the bottle from last night, that they brought out here so they could bless their coupling with wine. There's grass in Rainaut's hair. He holds out the bottle and Brother Peire, with some difficulty, manages to sit up enough to take it. The world spins around him and he nearly lets himself fall back onto the grass.
"I found us some mead," Rainaut tells him, leaning close to him. "Drink it and put your mouth on mine and let me bury myself inside you." His breath is hot and heavy on Brother Peire's lips. Brother Peire puts the bottle to his lips and drinks. There isn't much left and he finishes it.
Rainaut takes it back, drops it behind him, and pushes Brother Peire down onto his back to attack his mouth. He struggles out of his breeches, his mouth never leaving Brother Peire's. He sprawls on top of him, pinning Brother Peire to the ground, legs falling to either side of Brother Peire's thighs, hips rubbing against him and hands holding his face still.
Brother Peire digs his fingers into Rainaut's upper arms and wraps his legs around Rainaut's waist and feels himself growing hard as they grind together. Rainaut's mouth tastes like mead and his body feels like coiled desire.
Soon he's parting Brother Peire's thighs, stroking himself for good measure, sucking on his fingers before sliding them inside Brother Peire's body. Brother Peire moans despite himself, and then Rainaut is guiding himself in, burying himself deep, and stretching out over Brother Peire to cover him once again.
Rainaut's thrusts are shallow, if steady, but he's planted as far inside Brother Peire's body as he can be. He wraps his arms around Brother Peire's head and Brother Peire once again wraps his legs around Rainaut's waist as Rainaut's hips push in and in, trying to drive himself ever deeper.
He pants open-mouthed against Brother Peire's lips and Brother Peire moans into his mouth.
"This is, is three," Rainaut says, his voice deep and breathless. "Enough and more than. I needed you one more time."
"Just – just once?" Brother Peire manages.
"All the time, friar. All the, the – unh – yes – yes – ahh, God - "
Brother Peire can feel him go stiff and trembling, breath stuttering and turning into a low moan as he releases himself inside Brother Peire's body.
"Now you," Rainaut says finally, sitting up just enough to take Brother Peire in hand and stroke him to his own climax.
They curl up together in the light of the rising sun, both of them still half-drunk and completely, utterly satisfied. Brother Peire can't form a coherent thought, and even if he could he doesn't have the energy to articulate it. He only wants to sleep, and to dream about his body and Rainaut's and all the pleasures they can take from and offer to each other.
words: 1572
total words: 40,346
