Archive of Our Own

When it was one of Elliott’s writing work days, Braeburn checked in at noon-ish to make sure that his partner was doing okay and that he had something warm to drink. There were a few sights that Brae expected when he walked in the front door - Elliott hunched on the table, making notes, or busy typing on his laptop, or even in the kitchen preparing lunch before his afternoon writing session. 

What Braeburn did not expect to walk in to see was Elliott with his face as red as his hair, letting out an undignified squeak and slamming his laptop shut reflexively, wide eyes locking onto the opening door in surprise and humiliation. 

But there he was. Brae paused in the doorway, hand still on the knob as Elliott’s entire neck, ears and face beamed with a bright blush, laptop shut firm on his lap, and the writer appeared to be attempting to make himself as small as possible. 

"Elliott," Brae asked, trying not to let his humor at the situation show. "You good, sweetheart?" 

"I wasn't doing anything!" The redhead held his hands up, the scar tissue in his palms now almost invisible from time’s healing grace. "I swear!" 

Braeburn gave a snort before slipping into the room proper, closing the door behind himself. "El, tell the truth." 

"I am," He murmured sheepishly, looking away. He kept his hands away from the laptop, as if the offensive thing would burn him if he touched it. "I wasn't doing anything." 

"Tell me, or I'll open that laptop right up and see for myself. You know I will." Brae couldn't help but grin a little - the implication of Elliott’s incredible bashfulness and fear of being caught led him to believe that perhaps he was, well. Having some private time. Although Elliott was not really the type of person to do so; the pair of them had only been really intimate, physically, the one time so far and while they did not talk about bedroom antics in particular detail, Elliott had mentioned once or twice that in all his turmoil over his identity he had neglected his, ah, bodily needs as much as he could. It had just never been something he had put any stake in, and had always avoided thinking in that direction in lieu of focusing on his fiction.

The writer shrunk more so at the threat. He heaved a great sigh before answering. 

"I was reading." 

"That's all? Must have been something pretty spicy to get you as pink as this." 

It was almost a pout that he got in return, before Elliott reopened the laptop and gave a slight gesture to it. 

"It's…. It's something! Can you believe this - there are people out there writing stories about my characters. Fan-content over Camellia Station."

"Shit, really?" Braeburn beamed before starting to turn into the kitchen - he needed a hot mug of tea, and by the crackle in the back of his lover's throat, Elliott needed one too. "I mean, that's gotta be a compliment, right?" 

"It would be if it wasn't - I - I can't even explain it. They're having Vanessa and Gary be… well. They're writing of their intimacies, Brae, the fans, and I must admit that I was not expecting it." 

"Well hot damn." Kettle on and mugs ready, Brae leant against the sideboard. "Softcore porn of your characters? Hell, fans must be clamoring for more, El. You'll have to write your own stuff in the sequel. Unless it's making you feel weird?" 

If Elliott could grow any redder, he did. "I am… I'm perfectly flattered with the fact that my fans are creating content, but I… I would not call this softcore, per se. It's a little… humbling, I suppose? I never really thought of having Vanessa do such things."

"You never thought of sex while writing your romance novel?" The farmer asked and Elliott looked away. "Not even softcore stuff?" 

"It wasn't my intention to be a proprietor of smut, Brae. I may be able to write about feelings and emotions and flowery nothings but… but sex is different. And with a female character, I…." Elliott gave another uncomfortable gesture. Once he had realised how deeply he cared for Braeburn, a lot of pieces in his life had clicked into place. He saw himself anew, and he was a man that loved deeply and truly, so long as the target of his affections was Braeburn himself. "It is not like I have a particular wealth of experiences to get motivation and reference from." 

"We can change that." It was a cheeky little grin that Brae shot at him, and even though the redhead tried to give back a withering, semi-scolding look, it did considerably fail and turn into a lopsided smirk of his own. The look gave Braeburn an idea however, and he brought his thumb to his mouth as he thought for a second, chewing at the nail as he planned his words ahead. "...Or…. You know, we could do the opposite."

Elliott leant back in his spot on the sofa, intrigued but still blushing heavy in his cheeks and down his collar. "Enlighten me." 

"Tell me what you've done before. In detail. And then tell me what the fans are writing that's gotten you so warmed up, if ya will?" Braeburn turned to finish making the tea to give the flustered writer at least some distance to think on things. 

He heard Elliott give some sort of soft hum and then silence for a moment before he spoke up. "Well, I've told you before that I slept with two women fully, and I had foreplay with two others. And then, us… our -" He mulled his words for a moment, and even without looking at the man Braeburn could tell that he was squirming, throat tight with something like embarrassment. "...Bathtime. But, uh, wiith - with the women, it was all pretty standard and vanilla, so to speak. At least as far as I'm aware; some kissing, mild handplay and then I rather let them lead the way, truth be told."

Elliott watched as Braeburn nodded and stirred sugar into the tea, back to him. While he liked to imagine that the world viewed him as a suave, romantic hero of a person, the truth was that when it came to sex he was woefully inexperienced. Of course he knew the basics and how it all worked in theory, but...Braeburn had called him a late bloomer and he could not help but agree. He could write at length of longing looks, hands brushing one another, fleeting glances and the soft, hesitant first meeting of lips. But when it came to anything much further than that, his well of experience ran painfully dry. Elliott just cleared his throat a little before he continued, letting Braeburn approach with the steaming mugs. 

"The particular content I was reading had Vanessa push Gary into one of the storage cupboards on the train in the middle of a journey to the city and… use her mouth on him." He scratched at the back of his head, unable to find more suitable language to describe the act. Braeburn made a noise of confirmation, putting their mugs on the coffee table before sitting in his armchair, adjacent to his partner. 

"And that's got you worked up?" 

"I am not 'worked up'." Elliott huffed a little, looking at Braeburn from the corner of his eye but still spared a slight smile. "It's just - surprising, and embarrassing and… enlightening, in a way. I don't try to think of things like that when I write. It's not like I would know how to describe it, I have never…. Mnf. Well."

"You write about all kind of things you have limited experience in. That's what writers do though, love. You write about Gary being a train conductor and you have never worked on a train. You write about Vanessa being a woman but you yourself aren't a woman. And - wait. Wait wait wait. You've never used your mouth, not with the girls back then?"

"No," Elliott shrugged. "Not intimately. I kissed them on the lips, their necks, their chests, and I used my hands and then when we went the full way, I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what went where, but…. None of them ever asked me to, and I will admit that the idea did not particularly appeal to me." 

Braeburn leant with his chin resting on his hand, elbow on his knee, glancing at the screen."And no one has used their mouth on you? The way Vanessa is in that little story?" 

"No," Elliott kept his voice even, turning back to scroll through the short mini-story idly. "As I said - sexually my back story is incredibly barebones. There is little I have to share and talk about regarding it all."

"Do you want to try it?" 

Elliott kept his eyes on the screen but he could feel that heat creep up his collar anew, and he had a feeling that if he turned and looked that Braeburn’s Cheshire-cat grin would be curling from ear to ear. After a long moment, he forced himself to meet Braeburn’s genuine look - there was no grin, only a sincere expression of open discussion and welcome answers.

"...Are you… offering?" 

"I'm saying that it's about time we get the ball rolling, sweetheart. Strike while the iron's hot. Your fans wanna see your characters be close, and you said you'd need some inspiration if you wanted to go that route. I'm offering my experienced hand." That's when the grin started up, and Elliott almost rolled his eyes. "But. Yes. I've enjoyed what we've done so far. I'd imagine that we're gonna be doing more as and when we're ready for it. What I'm saying is that if you read something that sounds fun, we could try it." 

"You say it as if I should make a to-do list of sexual exploits that I'd want to engage in." 

Braeburn sat up straight. "That's a great idea! Hell yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying - make a list. We can go through it, see what seems good, and see how it all goes." 

“What, so that - that’s that, then?” Elliott looked at him skeptically, before leaning over and taking his tea. “You want me to research pornography for our own means?”

“I’m saying that it ain’t a bad idea for you to keep on reading and looking stuff up and maybe make a note of anything that feels like it could get a rise out of you,” Braeburn did the same, taking his drink and sipping at its edge. “If there’s stuff you see that tickles your fancy then write it down, and we can go through it together, see where we stand on it, and then try out the ones you wanna do the most. Tick ‘em off, one by one.”

“That feels... awfully indulgent, on my part.”

“Think of it as a safety precaution, maybe,” Braeburn gave a slight shrug, entirely blasé and unfazed, something Elliott would forever envy, just slightly, despite knowing that all of his own anxieties were at home and would forever be comforted. “Your life has taken some big turns lately, you’re developing who you are as a person. Now’s a good a time as any to explore yourself, and you might as well do it in a place that’s safe, with someone you trust, and y’know without judgement or doubt and all that. I’d like to think I’m pretty open minded, El, and I’m down to figure out what things in particular make you tick. You know how much I love taking care of you, and this counts. A lot.”

Elliott smiled slightly, hiding behind his mug, face still warm.

“You might just find yourself more productive if you’re not distracted or pent up. I think this is a real healthy thing to do, if I do say so myself. I’m not about to force you into it or nothing El, you absolutely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I just - wanna put it out there that if you see something that catches your eye, I am at your service.”

Rounded off with a cheeky smile, all sunbeam and optimism, and Elliott could not help but give a subdued little laugh into his drink.

“You shall be the death of me, Mister Smith.”

“I bloody well hope not. Anyway -” He stood, stooped and pressed a kiss to Elliott’s temple, and tapped the top of the laptop. “Keep it in the back of your head, anyway. I’ve gotta get back out there. And make sure you drink enough while I’m out.”

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Since living here, Elliott was not sure he had ever smiled so much, even if each smile had a different meaning and reason. He shooed Braeburn away and sat back in his chair, getting comfortable with his hot drink and conflicted feelings. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have debauchery to peruse.”

Truthfully, Braeburn had pretty much forgotten about it by the end of the week. It was just one of those things, an odd stray thought that Elliott had gotten himself wound up and worried over that Braeburn had suggested a solution to, made sure Elliott was alright, and then they just carried on. It wasn’t anything particularly out of left field nor something he actually thought his partner would make good on. Not that Elliott wasn’t one to keep his word nor forget things, but with it being such a sensitive topic and one inspired by Elliott’s own work, and the suggested way forward being one of intimacy and peeling back barriers Elliott had unknowingly built up, Braeburn hadn’t particularly anticipated it actually going anywhere. It was but a conversation among many that they had.

Imagine his surprise when he stepped into the farmhouse one evening a week later to find Elliott again in his chair, wrapped in a quilt, blanket on his lap, face giddy, flushed, and split with a shy grin.

“Hello.”

“Hello you,” Braeburn smiled back, stepped over Mac and his beating tail to kiss his other half in greeting. When he pulled back, standing over Elliott, the redhead was looking at him with pure excitement in his eyes, little twinkles of delight that almost always came about when he’d finished a particularly hard writing segment or had a very positive review in his email inbox. “Go on then, don’t leave me in suspense. I know that look - what’s gone on?”

“I finished it.”

“Your newest chapter?”

“No -” Elliott quickly scrolled the trackpad of the laptop and clicked, bringing up a document with a row of bullet points. From the angle he was standing at, Braeburn could not see it properly, and tilted his head to look. “May I present: The List.”

“The List.”

“Mm-hm,” Elliott confirmed and nodded, looking at the screen rather than Braeburn as his ears warmed. “I, ah, between farm work I ended up reading quite a few little stories I found online, and saw a few videos, and, well-” Elliott gestured vaguely to the screen. “-made a list of things that seemed of potential interest. I also wrote it out on paper; I thought that having a physical copy would be a good idea but, um. Printing this out at the library seemed like a bad idea.”

Braeburn could only chuckle and let a hand run over the top of Elliott’s head, threading fingers into his hair the way he liked. “Smart thinking. I’m glad you found at least a couple things to think about.”

“I haven’t ranked them or anything, but I suppose mentally there are a few things I would not mind exploring first. Should you still be willing to indulge me, that is. If you’ve changed your mind -”

“Don’t be silly. I’m the one that brought it up, aren’t I?” Braeburn kissed at the top of Elliott’s head again and rubbed his shoulder. “This is all about you and doing stuff you want, sweetheart. Though I might try to toss a couple of ideas your way, if you’re up for it? No pressure.”

“I’d love that, truthfully. However,” Elliott clapped his hands together, eyes bright and happy again, shyness masked with purpose and he gave a tender and eager smile up at Brae. “You always tell me how we can’t do anything on an empty stomach. I think we should get to cooking.”

“Elliott you are a man after my own heart.”

“Luckily I know to get to it through your stomach, my darling.”

“So, what was your first pick?” Braeburn asked idly as he undressed for bed, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I hope you do not think me impudent, Brae. What we have done so far has been more than satisfactory you know, I hope this recent turn of events hasn’t lead you to see me as selfish or unhappy or-”

Elliott was silenced by that same t-shirt being thrown at him, and he spluttered out a surprised little laugh as he pulled it from himself, shooting a playful look back at Braeburn from over his shoulder.

“Man can’t get by with frottage alone, sweetheart,” Braeburn smiled back and came closer, moving to hug Elliott from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. It was nice to fit against him so well. Despite Elliott being so tall and elegant it was nice to know that of the two of them, Braeburn was the solid one that was leaned on. Not that the partnership was one sided - it was just a comfortable difference in the two of them. Despite being shorter, Braeburn felt like a shield against the world, able to tuck against Elliott’s jaw like this. “Well, we could, but I feel like knowing what’s out there is only gonna benefit not just you in the long run but hopefully us both. If all you ever want again is for us to do what we’ve done so far, then that’s totally fine with me - you don’t gotta do nothing you don’t want, El, not ever.”

“Thank you,” He turned his head to kiss Braeburn’s cheek. “I appreciate it all.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Braeburn kissed him back, three quick peppered little smooches on his cheek, earning that smile that he adored.

Things grew quiet as they went about preparing themselves, kicking shoes off, both ending up sitting as they continued to undress. Nudity between them was still moderately new, and while Braeburn and all his scars were not shy and Elliott's bravery came in waves, tonight was a night for new experiences. Didn't hurt to ease in gently.

“Before we get started - was there anything you saw that you outright didn’t want? Stuff you really want me to avoid and never bring up or hint at?” Braeburn asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his overalls down his legs.

“Hmm, well… I suppose when it comes to quite common-seeming acts, I cannot say that I see the appeal in slapping or hitting,” Elliott mused, doing the same on the other side of the bed, their backs facing each other and the atmosphere comfortable if not tinted with the slightest edge of nerve. Anticipatory, but as it was with talking things out, the air progressively cleared. That being said, Elliott’s voice dipped, just slightly. “Especially on the face.”

Braeburn undersood why. They had discussed before of how Elliott’s mother had lashed out at him in the past. Perhaps the kindest thing right now was to move around that, acknowledge it but not dwell.

“Noted. Don’t worry, I wasn’t thinking of anything like that, not ever. You can always always let me know if stuff I do is too rough, you know. Just wanna check in though - have you thought about spanking, potentially? Or is that off the table too? That kinda thing might be up your alley.” If Elliott’s reactions to treatment before that just bordered on rough and controlling was anything to consider. Braeburn could hear it in his head now already, the kind of noise the writer would make were he bent over with his hair tugged back, a resounding smack echoing off of his ass, cock hard hanging untouched between his legs. However: Braeburn was a large guy with big hands, and Elliott, while not delicate, was certainly worth more than cheap violence. Braeburn didn’t desire to strike him in any form - but, like flavours, having a sting of sharpness can enhance sweetness sometimes. Elliott might just eventually get off on Braeburn manhandling him a little too casually.

“I suppose... something light initially, with warning, could be an interesting sensation,” Braeburn wondered if the same mental images were in Elliott’s clever head. “I’m assuming you doing the spanking and me receiving?”

“Whichever way you want, sweetheart,” Braeburn laid back, resting on his elbows as he kicked his overalls off of his ankles, bare back leaning against Elliott’s, solid and unshakable and warm. Truly, Braeburn wouldn’t mind - he had some reservations about Elliott ever having the confidence to take the reins with a forceful hand, but that’s what this whole list thing was about - experimenting, making him comfortable, and seeing the ways they fit together. “I’m happy to bend to what you want, El. There are some things I prefer, yeah, some roles I find a little easier to slip into I suppose, but I’m not above playing around. Why, d’you wanna spank me?”

Elliott didn’t look at him but Braeburn was positive that he knew how he looked - head lolled back, grin teasing, testing the waters and enjoying the reaction. He could see the back of Elliott’s neck tint pink. He always blushed so prettily.

“I... had not thought about it. In me being the one to... to take charge. I would not be opposed, but I fear that it may be a rather inadequate performance.”

“You’ve been the one to give before though,” Braeburn hummed, angling back further and leaning so the flat of his cheek was between Elliott’s shoulders. Touch was addictive, and Elliott always felt so right, so essential to Braeburn’s life now. He had filled out more recently, was starting to really look healthy. Strong from helping out on the farm yet still lean, slight, smaller. Something the more possessive part of Braeburn's mind kept drifting back to. Easy to pick up and hold, someone to carry and cradle and tuck blankets around at night, someone to feed good food to and work beside, live a life with, see grow strong and fed and happy and adored. Yoba he was so easy to fall in love with. Both physically and intellectually - Elliott was all sanded-down edges and depths with tunnels that ran off in all directions, limitless thought and oceanic interest. Truly, Braeburn was a lost cause. His voice turned soft. “There is nothing you could do that would ever disappoint me, you know.”

Elliott did not respond for a moment, remaining still, taking it in. That happened, Braeburn had noticed - sometimes upon receiving genuine support and compliments, it was like Elliott needed just a second to process it and formulate how to respond to it - if he even did. Sometimes he would simply continue the conversation as if nothing had happened. A lifetime of being ignored, an existence of being incapable of adhering to praise unless it was on his work, of his value, of what he did. To undo such habits would take time, if they ever truly did unravel totally. But each habit begins as a single act - and Brae would continue to let him know how incredible he was, how allowed he was to exist, until maybe it was internalised.

“No matter where any of this leads or if it leads to nothing - if you wanna tap out at any point, if you change your mind at all on anything, if you want to stop and need time to yourself to think on any part of it at all, that’s okay. Bodies are weird and do weird stuff and I won’t judge a single thing nor ever look at you any differently to how I look at you now. You’re all I ever want again, sweetheart - and I’ll be happy with whatever you decide you like. Okay?”

Slowly, Elliott leaned back into him, shoulders dropping by a half inch, voice quiet but also warmed through, touched, accepting.

“Okay.”

“Good man,” Braeburn turned out to plant a kiss in the center of Elliott’s shoulders - positive reinforcement - before moving to stand. “Let's get things together.”

He rummaged through drawers and arranged the pillows comfortably while Elliott stripped himself bare, keeping to himself for a moment.

“I wouldn’t expect you to strike me, by the way. I know you wouldn’t - I just wanted to be clear on that.”

“I know - and I’d rather you tell me something outright and we be clear than not. But no, I’d never hurt ya on purpose.” Braeburn tossed a tube onto the bed, just in case. He wasn’t sure where the night was going yet, but preparation was never a bad thing. “I’m not about that, pet. If anything ever stings, you speak up and it won’t happen again. It’s a promise - I won’t hurt you.”

“...th... the - hair pulling, though. That was - that doesn’t count.” Voice small and sheepish, and Elliott looked away as he put his clothes in the laundry hamper. Sheepish despite being bare. Braeburn watched him go, enamoured with how pink his skin got, all over. He had already had a feeling about that - a very strong, visceral, distracting feeling that came with the memory of the sound Elliott had made with one light little tug on his hair, let alone constant replays of their last and only time together, where Elliott had arched so prettily under him, vivid amber sprawled on their pillows still wet from their bath, skin damp and voice shot and chest heaving. Yoba he was so pretty, and Braeburn was immensely lucky. “The, um, the... the throat thing as well. Being held. That’s good also.”

Part of Braeburn had expected Elliott’s confidence to grow now that this new aspect of him had been deflowered, but his outer confidence and inner confidence were always at war with each other, the facade of ease and debonair ego forever crumbling once behind closed doors. Brae was the only one allowed in. That was something to be respected.

Elliott always cut a fine figure. Tall and lean and elegant, made to wear fine things and stand poised and pretty. But like this, comfortable enough to stand with nothing on, he was more handsome than ever. Another time, Brae would have to suggest some petting whilst Elliott wore his most fanciful dresswear, to ask if he could peel Elliott out of things that tied with dainty little strings, if he could kiss him while undoing his cravat and smoothing a hand between the buttons of his shirt. Elliott was stunning, and to be the one to see him in only his own skin was humbling. He was due a reward, for relaxing so easily.

It was easy to move around the bed and close the gap between them, crowding Elliott just enough and smoothing a hand upward, cupping his jaw and angling his head to pull him into a kiss - Elliott gasped at the contact, hands tentatively coming to hold onto Braeburn’s shoulders. Slowly, giving him as much time as possible to step away should it be too much, Braeburn leaned in, letting his chest and stomach press against Elliott’s, skin to skin, and smiled into their kiss as Elliott shivered and bit back a soft noise of appreciation. Their shapes and sizes may be different but it was a hell of a compliment that Elliott seemed to be attracted to every bit he could get his hands on. As and when, that is, he became brave enough to put his hands on Brae.

Elliott liked to be looked after. Liked to be clutched onto, needed, even manhandled a little. Braeburn liked to look after him. Liked to lace up that corset he had, and brush his hair, wrap around him when they went to bed. He wanted to make him happy, and feel content and protected, and the thought of Elliott feeling secure enough to get off whilst next to him, against him, that had been a thought in the back of his mind for months.

He sucked lightly at Elliott's lower lip before pulling away just barely enough to speak, sharing breath, what little air between them warm and domestically electric.

“Are you gonna be in charge of me tonight, little one?” Braeburn smirked, unable to look away from the stark blush and soft mouth and the hazy way Elliott was looking already. While it was always always beneficial to talk of likes and dislikes, of boundaries and green lights, Braeburn had more than an inkling of exactly the kinds of things that made Elliott’s blood run a little warmer. “Or shall I take good care of you and take you to bed?”

That was quick. Against the edge of his stomach, he could feel Elliott get hard and press. Skin flushed and interested, the soft pressure and heat of his eagerness. Adorable - how quickly he got worked up, how engaging it was to just play and know that the balance between them worked in both of their favours.

“Take me to bed, please,” Elliott mumbled. “Can you carry me there, and be under me?”

“With pleasure.” It was easy to scoop him up, arms locked around his hips as Elliott happily held on, hands coming to bring Braeburn’s face to his, kissing as Brae did as he was asked and brought him to the bed. Sliding to sit on the edge of the bed, Elliott on his lap kissing him exploratorily, hands smoothing up against Elliott’s bare sides - even this was more than good. If Elliott lost his nerve now and asked instead for them to simply lay next to each other tonight then Braeburn would not be disappointed.

To take things slow was a pleasure in itself. Why rush when you can savour, why swallow when flavours were made to seep across your tongue? Elliott let out another muffled noise of encouragement as tongue met lip and Braeburn asked for entry - small steps, no rushing, inquisitive pushes at the right time and never sooner. Elliott was warm against him, on him, practically humming with anticipation. 

Last time, it had been so spontaneous - so much buildup had simply led to them colliding, the circumstances comfortable and right and yet rapid. Braeburn didn't move fast, was built for comfort and not speed. Plush all the way to his bones and fluffy down to his nature. He wanted to be the bathwater Elliott sank into to relax and ease his aches, to be a good meal that he took his time over, to be just resistant enough and just leading enough that Elliott lasted long enough to plead and then be granted the most satisfying peak possible.

He held Elliott’s chin gently as if refraining him from getting away, sucking on his tongue and stroking it with his own in languid laps, more than aware of the slight squirming Elliott was trying to prevent. Hard weight lay against the fuzz of his stomach, hot and already needing attention, and another time, should Elliott find the idea worthy of the list, perhaps his partner could get off just like that, rutting against the soft pudge of Braeburn’s stomach and getting lost in the texture of downy hair and plush flesh.

His other hand held Elliott's waist safe, kept him from falling, and he pulled just slightly, an encouragement to be as close as Elliott could bear. He responded well, a tentative roll of his hips that had his erection grinding upwards and a whiny sound threatening to spill out into Braeburn’s mouth from his own.

Two taps - a little ask for freedom on his shoulder, and Braeburn pulled back, gave Elliott space to catch his breath. He wondered how sensitive he was, how quickly he would end up finishing - those that have been without decent attention tend to spiral rapidly, and Elliott's appetite was increasing but he was still starved. Braeburn loved to serve, but was firmly against force-feeding.

Elliott swallowed his breath in soft pants, wet his lips, needed a second to find the words. He indicated to the bed, having to detach one hand from Brae’s back to do so. “Could we…?”

“O‘course, darling,” Braeburn did as he was asked but not before pressing a kiss to the hollow of Elliott’s throat and internally preening at the stifled gasp and twitch that it earned him. Carefully, Braeburn scooted back on the bed, holding Elliott against him. Wouldn't do for him to fall. No, Elliott had to stay right by him, snug and waiting, safe and held. He inched back slowly, twisting to lift his legs onto their bed and with the motion he fell back as Elliott fell forward; it was clunky and clumsy but sometimes making love is like that, one half stumbling into the other, giving a little chuckle, getting distracted by a knee rising and pressing steadily upward. After some adjustment and shuffling, things were comfortable enough, and Elliott was sat pretty, upright with his hair hanging down gloriously and Braeburn under him, head propped up, hands appreciative yet steadying. “There. So, what's your pick, sweetheart?” Settled under him, his own interested cock under the swell of Elliott’s ass, Braeburn held him secure and waited. He knew how much Elliott liked it when he took charge, did things for him, took choices and distractions away, but this was important. Elliott had already outlined his choices and now it was for him to take the first step. Braeburn could do the rest - it just had to be started. “Dealer's choice.”

“Y-” Elliott began, and Braeburn could see him second guess himself, before amending it and steeling himself, just a little. “Your mouth. If that’s okay. Like this.”

“Had that on your mind, huh?” Braeburn smiled up at him and pat lightly at the small of his back, encouraging Elliott forward. “Come sit close, right on my chest. Let me at you.”

“Lech.” Elliott gave a little smirk down at him as he inched forward, kneeling over Braeburn one hand cupping himself and keeping his dick out of Braeburns face, the other steadying himself against the headboard. Simple starlight from the window sank over him, and even without anything being down his throat yet Braeburn’s breath felt short. Elliott shimmered and twinkled more than any of the gems he had on display in his room, he was more precious than any treasure he could find, more wondrous than life itself. How did he manage to make such a beautiful man fall for him? He wanted to prove how blessed he felt - how much he wanted Elliott to feel deserved.

“Connoisseur,” He corrected, gaze falling to Elliott's cock before him, hidden by his hand. Little steps, patience and encouragement. Elliott wasn't a startled horse that needed goading into a trot, but it never hurt to be gentle. Braeburn turned his head, laid kisses up Elliott's inner thigh, encouraged him closer. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to be buried in him, for Elliott to lay on him entirely, forever, to be at home on his face and in his chest and across his thighs and everywhere. He wanted to devour him and leave him shaken, wrung dry, sleepy and cosy for the next day and beyond. He buried his nose in the seam of his pelvis, close, licked a long stripe with the tip of his tongue and gazed upward, taken by Elliott's screwed-shut eyes, flushed cheeks, little tremble. Yoba he was a sight. Worthy of praise, worthy of all Brae could give. “You are delectable. Let me taste you proper, El.”

An almost hesitant look down at him, before Elliott's need overcame his desire to hide and he, albeit tentatively, presented himself; holding the base of his cock, keeping it just out of reach as if trying to be polite. Braeburn gave it an appreciative look - pleased with both the sight and the fact that Elliott was doing so well. Some part of his brain idly wondered if the scarring on his palms felt good, that if Elliott were to properly touch himself or eventually touch Braeburn that the subtle texture would be noticeable. He would have to ask Elliott sometime if he would be comfortable getting off in front of him - for Braeburn to learn from observation, see how Elliott’s body reacted to itself before joining in, taking over, taking the responsibility away from Elliott the way he liked. Braeburn had said before that something he enjoyed was the removal of distraction - to automate things and absorb responsibility, to be in charge of feeding the one he loves, guiding them to structure, take care of needs before they even knew they had them.

That included this. He wanted Elliott too trust him with all of this, to let him take, to learn what he liked and how he liked it so he could get Elliott to peak as blissfully as possible and feel no discomfort after. He wanted not only to please Elliott but to satisfy him - to chart a map of his body on his tongue and between his fingers, to see him wrecked and reformed. He had tried not to think of any of this, to remove such thoughts as if to think would make his partner uncomfortable or pressured - he had truly forbid himself to imagine a single thing. He’d failed.

“I've thought about this a lot, you know,” Said simply before leaning up to kiss just at the underside of Elliott’s dick, eyes closed, soft gasps from above him. He could feel, slowly, that confidence grow, and Braeburn cracked an eye open just enough to confirm his suspicions - he could feel that hand sluggishly move, Elliott delicately pumping himself, already engrossed. Oh this truly was going to be a treat. Seeing Elliott’s desire mount and confidence develop was something to treasure and something Brae couldn't wait to nurture. “Do what comes natural, El - I'll give you a signal if you go too deep or I need to breathe. But I can take it,” Another kiss, bolder, right to the tip of Elliott's dick which caused a ragged groan to slip out and a flash of hazy green from above. Watched. Well if Elliott wanted to see, then Braeburn would have to give him something to look at. He pressed his cheek to the length of Elliott and rubbed, the curls of his beard caressing hot skin and Elliott hissed in a breath through his teeth, still looking, hand stuttering still. Close enough to it, Braeburn kissed at Elliott's knuckle, a motion of dismissal. He could take it from here. “Hold onto the headboard, sink forward. I got you.”

Elliott was so fucking pretty, up and down. Braeburn smiled against his length, pressing more kisses up the length of it, getting accustomed to its heat, its size - Elliott was adequately proportioned for a man his height, not that otherwise would be any kind of deal-breaker. No, he was perfect any which way, and the way he was now was divine. Braeburn lapped a long, slow lick up him, pausing to kiss again at his tip, watching with interest the way he could physically see it throb before him.

“Good?”

“Mmnhg.” Little more than a grunt, and Elliott was biting his lip hard and no longer able to look. Oh he wouldn't last. Which was only indication that Braeburn had to make it as good as possible with the time he had.

A swirl of determined tongue and he was wet, the treatment hasty but necessary - any kind of dry intrusion anywhere was uncomfortable, for them both, and he wanted Elliott to be in bliss. Steadily, Braeburn sank his mouth down, sucking lightly, letting Elliott inch forward to slide against his tongue.

“Oh my - ohh-hhhnnnnhgg Brae-” Whispered like a prayer, his head tilting back, instincts telling him to ease in quicker and thrust. Braeburn kept him steady, but didn't let up, dragging his lips back and making sure that Elliott could feel every flick and suck.

It was easy to find a rhythm. Each motion he took him deeper, lathed attention on him, pulled him closer - Yoba, Braeburn wanted to use his hands so badly. To trail up and pinch and knead at Elliott’s chest, to stroke through the trail of hair down his navel, to pull his thighs apart, to cup and roll at his balls, to just touch everywhere he could, all he could, to drown Elliott in pure concentrated good. Having him halfway down his throat wasn't enough, Braeburn needed to touch him everywhere, for Elliott's entire body to feel how adored he was.

But, fuck, he couldn't do too much too quick. Instead, words. Words he could do. Elliott was the good one when it came to that, he knew how to talk well and speak with eloquence and weave ideas into what they should be - but perhaps Braeburn was more experienced in making certain words in certain situations punchy and effective. He hummed around Elliott and sucked in one long, slow pull, leaving him curling and breathless over him, before releasing him with a faint pop and giving him but a fraction of the attention he deserved.

“You're doing so good, look at you,” He crooned, angling himself to lap a stripe up Elliott's balls, kiss more at his thighs, nuzzle against the soft dusting of amber hair there. “I want you so bad, baby boy -” the petname earned a sharp whine, and Elliott rolled his hips, wet cock gliding against Brae's beard. He tried not to chuckle - Elliott was so endearing, and after this he couldn't wait to swaddle him up in the blanket and doze, tangled nude and against each other. All in good time, however. “I want you all the way in - I know you can do that. Let yourself go for me, sweetheart.”

Another wet, open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his weeping cock before Braeburn all but swallowed him, sinking half way down and knocking a sharp, needy groan out of Elliott. He could hear his fingers gripping the edge of the headboard, and, somewhat indulgently at the idea of Elliott letting loose and fucking his mouth, hair wild and body strong and those fingers gripping at his hair, Braeburn let out a muffled groan of his own - which made Elliott almost pull out, the sound reverberating down his dick, his sensitivity mounting.

He'd take his time next time they did this. Hold Elliott still and suck him leisurely, have him writhe and arch under him, hips jittering and legs locked around Brae's shoulders, entirely at his mercy, mercy that Braeburn would extend forever and ever, keep Elliott good and satiated, trapped at the edge and teetering, dripping into his mouth and clawing at the sheets. He wanted to press Elliott down and have him fuck up into his mouth, to roll them both over and swallow him whole, to lift him up just enough to lick below, eat all of him, adore every inch of his body. He cherished Elliott. He wanted to prove it, any way he could.

But for now, this time, Braeburn wanted him to fall apart, and quickly. A reward for his courage. He bobbed his head quickly, taking more with each pass, and each wet suck caused Elliott to give a soft and melodic "aah!” and rut his hips forward, press a little deeper, good boy, learning fast, doing so well.

Moustache met copper-red and Elliott was edging down his throat - Braeburn swallowed, managed a glance up with bleary eyes, could see Elliott's belly tensing and the double-handed grip he had on the bed as he panted, torn open, libidinous and magnificent.

Yoba, Elliott looked good like this - hair thrown back and just beginning to get messy, the threat of sweat beginning on his forehead and the cusp of his throat, skin flushed, eyes closed and lip bitten and eyebrows pinched with concentration. Each slow roll was measured and savoured, as if Elliott were not only trying to be cautious of Braeburn but also so intently experiencing it all - it was cute, the way he enjoyed himself.

Braeburn indicated with his head - a slight tilt back, twice in quick succession, a gentle warning for Elliott to pull out - which he did. A single droplet eased down and fell into fuschia fuzz as Elliott inched back and hovered over him, dizzied and trembling, eyes fixated on the way Brae licked his lips before speaking. 

“I’m gonna do something,” He managed, hands smoothing up the backs of Elliott’s thighs carefully. “I’m gonna try something, see how you like it. If its too much or it hurts or the angle isn’t right, just say and I’ll stop, okay?”

Elliott nodded, peachy-faced and panting, let out a soft “Yeah,” before guiding himself smoothly back into Braeburn’s mouth, moaning lowly at the sensation of tongue. “Oh Yoba-”

He was a natural at this. It was hard not to smile around him.

With one hand, Braeburn rooted around in the sheets next to them before finding his mark - the tube of jelly he had kept aside. He could coat his fingers decently one-handed - he didn't want to disturb Elliott while he was hard at work. He was getting the hang of it, gently thrusting, each movement making the tip of his cock hit the back of Braeburn's tongue.

He smoothed his hands around Elliott’s waist again, encouraging him to keep rhythm, kept his mouth lax and welcoming to keep Elliott just the right amount of distracted. Carefully, he let his slicked hand trail back - and slipped the pads of his fingers inward to rub against his hole.

“Oh, ff-” Elliott stuttered, teeth bared for just a moment as he held himself still and acclimated to the feeling. Braeburn could feel his cock throb with each inquisitive push, a twitch against his tongue that was just off-beat with the tremble in his lover's thighs and threatening his palate with spill.

“Ah - p-please, Braeburn, if you could,” Elliott panted, arching just enough not to hit the back of Brae’s throat but also ensure that he had better access - he asked so nicely, and Braeburn couldn’t say no to him. Yoba he was so handsome like this, and Brae watched him, enraptured, engrossed in the way his mouth fell open and his throat bobbed as he moaned at the feeling of two fingers slowly sinking into him - impressive for a first time, and something Braeburn could feel himself twitch at. He paused at the second knuckle, Elliott squeezing around him. “Oh, Yoba, fuck, Brae -”

The pressure of two fingers pressing inward halfway into his heat forced Elliott’s hips forward and he shook above Braeburn at the warmth, the submersion, the dizzying conflict of full and surrounded. He couldn’t look at Braeburn for much longer otherwise he would burst. He felt as if he couldn’t catch his breath, knuckles white on the headboard and Braeburn so soft and plush under him, holding him still, that big hand of his holding his hip steady - Elliott was thankful for it, for as sunken into haze as he was he felt as if he could just float away, untethered without him, as light as mist and as ungraspable as a breeze.

He was so happy to have Brae. In every way. In any way Brae let him.

“Please -” He rocked as best as he could, head down and panting heavy, flushed from hairline to chest, and Braeburn could not only feel but taste how little it would take for the edge to barrel in. “Hhnnnfuck Braeburn, Braeburn, please -”

He was snug and hot around his fingers, twitching, and Braeburn crooked them as best as he could, reveling in the whimper it rung out of Elliott’s elegant throat. Sensitive. Most definitely something to explore later.

“I’m not g-” Came gasped from above him, and Braeburn merely sunk his head down, swallowed around as much as he could fit. “Oh fuck I’m going to come -”

Braeburn sucked smoothly, lapped his tongue against the underside of Elliott’s cock, listened to the way he whined, high and needy and enticing - Elliott seemed so exposed, brought to pieces and beautiful, wonderfully submissive to everything around him, in him, the right side of desperate and so elegantly masculine; the soft, undefined muscle of his stomach fluttered as he tried to hold himself back, and his hair hung down over his collar in golden-red waves, and every sense was just him and his pleasure. His skin, his weight, his taste, his scent, his sounds, Yoba above his sounds.

“I’m coming, Brae, p- oh fuck please -” It was almost begging, although Braeburn had a feeling that Elliott didn’t even know what he was begging for - there was just so much he felt, so many ways he was being pulled apart, so much he wanted to aim at Brae and Brae alone. Each breath was a whimper, an airy, pretty, needy little noise that shit heat into Braeburn's gut and beyond. He swallowed around him, sunk down low, groaned around him and felt him shatter. “Oh- ! Th - there! I’m there, oh fffuck, fuck, coming, I’m coming-”

Elliott gasped brokenly as his hips twitched, short rough jerks barely restrained as the first rope hit Braeburn’s tongue - he pulled back enough so Elliott could see, gaze clouded and voice raw with continuous moans, as he spilled over and into Brae's waiting mouth, gushing against the edge of his beard, into his mouth, over the cusp of his moustache. Elliott shook, unable to even detach a hand from the bedpost to milk himself dry, too tightly wound and caught up. That wouldn't do - Braeburn managed to catch him just as the last few drops gushed, pumped him through it, rung out some final, high whines as overstimulation set in. 

And Elliott managed to watch as Braeburn swallowed, tongue darting over his upper lip, hand slipping away from his cock so he could suck the spend from his thumb. Debauched. That was the only word Elliott could conjure. Debauched. And incredible. And -

“G -... glutton,” Elliott wheezed, a joke, a soft grin managing to find it's way to him. He felt. Well. Thoroughly drained. “Yoba above… Ah- hah- u-um… thank you for that, my darling.” He looked flustered. Braeburn wanted to kiss him senseless.

“No need to ever thank me, pet.” He smiled up at him yet again, and once more leaned his cheek against Elliott, his spent length resting by his beard. It was meant affectionately, but Braeburn understood when the writer made a slight noise in the back of his throat. He shook, shivering from head to toe, hands careful as he held himself away from Braeburn’s face. He’d - he’d made a mess. Braeburn’s beard had a thick streak of white in it that had splashed up against his cheek, and everything was spit-slick and sticky. 

Shakily, he sat back, unfurling himself, leaning into those fingers and whining when they pressed deeper, overstimulated, stuffed just beyond what was comfortable. However Elliott made no motion to move them nor remove them - he merely angled his hips slightly, settled, tried to make himself used to the stretch with his lip still bitten and face flushed.

Carefully, he brought his hands behind him to the bed, balanced himself sitting back - and in passing, brushed the back of his wrist against Braeburn’s hard cock, untouched, but inches away from the small of Elliott’s back. Wet, and neglected.

They met eyes, Elliott flushing a deeper scarlet than ever at the realisation of how much had happened without him even doing anything to Brae, considering doing anything reciprocal to Brae. He had been too… distracted.

But the farmer merely shot him an immensely satisfied grin, and turned his head to press one more kiss at the inner seam of Elliott’s thigh.

“So - what was second place on The List?”