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Post by ARI WOLFF on Mar 24, 2015 4:27:40 GMT
"so what you're telling me is that your sex life is shit and you don't want to talk about it?" he wears his mischief proudly in his eyes, his smile. "if you didn't settle, you could release some of that tension." he rubs his wrist, skin red and swelling. no hard feelings. no harm done. isa hasn't kicked him out, so he isn't discouraged either. "how about your place? or is that off-limits?" though isa acts like he wants to get rid of ari, he doesn't try hard enough. he's familiar with the man's callous ways. the inner-workings of the man's head aren't hard to figure out. simple. "we can go to my place. it's probably much nicer than yours." ISA KRISTOFF |
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Mar 26, 2015 1:40:55 GMT
"are you fucking listening?" his tone is unaffected, for all the strain in his posture. "what i'm saying is i don't want to see you again."
somehow, he may still want to impress ari, and he has to bite back anything he want to say. he has to resolve not to make it any of ari's business - his sex life is far from lacking. but virgil feels like some sort of secret he needs to keep. virgil feels like something sacred.
he draws a deep breath, a lungful of midnight fleur. ari's perfume will sink into the seats of his car. despite his best judgment, isa leans over and fumbles open the glove compartment for a cigarette to smoke out the smell. ARI WOLFF |
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Post by ARI WOLFF on Mar 28, 2015 0:48:48 GMT
“i’m listening. but your mouth is saying one thing, and your body is saying the opposite. the body never lies.” not fooled, ari gazes at isa’s profile with hungry eyes. he senses the words dead on the man’s tongue. isa’s holding back. distance shortened. ari makes it smaller wraps his arms around his neck and catches the his lips from the side. the angle is awkward, far from ideal. an arm loosened from around his neck, it slides to the waistband. “pull over, or we’re going to crash.” he breathes into his ear. ISA KRISTOFF |
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Mar 28, 2015 2:43:47 GMT
isa doesn't know where he's driving - perhaps by some instinct, home.
he can feel ari's breath, he can almost feel the sticky residue of lipstick his lips leave when he speaks. it's not really there and he's going mad, but in a moment, it is - he can feel the warm red at the side of his lip, his tongue darts out to catch it.
isa is not an animal overtaken by primal urges. this, he tells himself, is rational - profanities, french, are streaming from his lips - pull over before ari grabs the wheel and does it himself. he has the cigarette pack, a crushed prize in his hand when he signals and pulls over, leans back in his seat. "don't you have somewhere to be?"
ARI WOLFF |
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Post by ARI WOLFF on Apr 2, 2015 15:23:08 GMT
red lipped smile, white teeth. name whispered, breath brushing against skin. sticky words, lips. ari has him where he wants him, coiled round his finger. hot and bothered. desire burning like an inferno. isa's hardly fighting him now. he wants what ari can give. feeble attempts to remain in feigned disinterest fall apart. "no." breath against his ear, hot. "i'm all yours." beneath fringes of golden lashes, he stares up. fingertips find buttons, zipper tabs. undone. zipped down. tongue darts across lips. he takes him by the length. ISA KRISTOFF |
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 4, 2015 4:58:05 GMT
he's dropped the pack - onto the dash, the seat, his lap, it hardly matters; while ari works open his pants.
"shit." ari lowers his head, and isa's fingers lace in ari's hair. he should stop him. people can see him, pulled over on some side street with his lights blinking. he shouldn't be letting this happen, but he's in too deep, and god, ari's fucking mouth. he can't help but remember all the filth, all the white-hot happiness of their nights together.
neither can he help but think of virgil when he finishes.
ARI WOLFF |
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Post by ARI WOLFF on Apr 7, 2015 4:01:55 GMT
tongue licks at then edges of his mouth. palms pressing on the upholstery of isa's seat, between his legs. he looks up, back arched. a hand lifts to press to his chest, slick with sweat. "i want you to fuck me hard, isa. right now. make me scream." golden hair in disarray, eyelashes fluttering. his mouth hovers inches from isa's ear, arms snaked around his neck "you want me. so take me." he's straddling isa. seat sliding back, more than enough room now. ISA KRISTOFF |
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 10, 2015 4:12:02 GMT
breath hitching, his hands loosen from ari's hair and slide down his back. they don't push or pull, simply rest at the small of his back. he's not sure how he's ended up here, but the fugue passes and isa refocuses his gaze to a point on the horizon, past ari. past this time and this place where there is nothing rational, right or wrong. "get off." he grunts, his fingers are digging into ari's hips and guiding them - away, out of his lap. "we aren't doing this." (they may already have). ARI WOLFF |
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Apr 10, 2015 18:49:34 GMT
Post by ARI WOLFF on Apr 10, 2015 18:49:34 GMT
self-control he didn't even think possible of isa kicks in. pouting, he sits in the seat he was placed. "you're no fun." lower lip stuck out, eyelids heavy over eyes staring to the side. "you never used to pass me up, especially not after i wound you up. and i'm making it easy. i could play hard to get." ISA KRISTOFF |
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 24, 2015 3:02:09 GMT
"used to." he reaffirms, breath still coming heavy as he tries to make himself decent. but letting ex-boyfriends blow you in your car isn’t decent in any sense of the word. him and virgil – he's not sure if there's any formality in their arrangement, they've never made any promises, but they're satisfied enough with one another not to fuck around. it doesn't make it feel any less of a betrayal. "i told you, i'm not interested." he knows ari isn't hung up on him – he only wants what he can't have. a quickie in the car, and he'd have forgotten all about isa before the afterglow burns out. now he's made himself an object of some unattainable desire. ARI WOLFF |
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