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Alastor was reading on the bed, rather than the large straight-backed lounge chair, when his Vincent returned home right before midnight.
Vincent had gone out with coworkers earlier, a bar crawl in his sights, and Alastor had anticipated the man returning well past 2 am. So, he had gotten cozy, with a cigarette and a whiskey as a Friday night treat, along with a bedtime read, The Great Gatsby.
The door flew open, and Vincent stumbled in, clothes and shoes still on, looking disheveled and disgruntled.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Alastor said, looking up at him curiously. The man was sweaty as if he had run the way back, his necktie loose.
Vincent just looked at him silently, taking in Alastor in his usual striped pajamas, a gentle reading light basking the room in a warm glow.
Then he lurched forward, and faceplanted on the bed. Alastor watched in amusement as the man looked up at him from the covers of their duvet. “Isn’t it a bit early to be back? I thought you could drink an entire brigade into the ground, Vincent, you’ve bragged about it so often.”
Vincent just looked slightly dazed, and flushed, possibly with the alcohol still coursing through his system. But the man was unusually quiet, even if he were black-out drunk.
“There, there,” Alastor said condescendingly, patting the man’s soft, though slightly sweaty hair. “You’ll always be a good-for-nothing drunk to me.”
Suddenly, the man’s hands were traveling up his thighs, then up to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Alastor continued reading The Great Gatsby as Vincent attempted to wiggle the bottoms off of him, shimmying it down his legs.
Alastor couldn’t help but notice the way the man’s eyes widened as he realized he wore nothing underneath, not a panty or boxer, and that he was slightly exposed in this position, with his knees bent to let Vincent unclothe him. The man’s pupils dilated, and he subconsciously moistened his lips. But he returned his gaze to Alastor’s face, somewhat pleadingly.
“What’s that look supposed to mean?” Alastor said, stroking some hair out of the man’s face. The man appeared to be upset, but not at him.
“They were talking ‘bout you at the bar,” Vincent mumbled at last.
“Pardon?”
“They were talkin’ ‘bout… how pretty your legs looked,” Vincent continued, still staring down at Alastor and stroking up and down his thigh slowly. “At that damn Christmas party we went to…”
“For your company?” Alastor said curiously. “Well; they certainly did, wouldn’t you agree, Vincent?”
“They can’t talk about my wife like that…” Vincent mumbled, slurring slightly. “You shoulda heard them, Al. It’s just not right.”
Alastor smirked. “What else did they say? Do tell.”
Vincent flushed a deeper red, and his brow furrowed as he clutched Alastor’s legs to him like a security blanket. “That you… got a nasty tiny waist that’s not big enough for my—my—”
Alastor chuckled, realizing the man was more humiliated than him by the cat-calling. “It’s a compliment to us both, dear. What’s the issue?”
Vincent shook his head and wrapped his arms around Alastor’s waist and leaned his head on his stomach. “Iss not an issue. It’s the way their faces were lookin’… like they were imagining it was theirs instead of mine…”
Alastor carded through Vincent’s hair as he flipped the page. The man could be too possessive for his own good. “You know it takes a lot to please me… so don’t get that thought in your head, okay?”
Vincent still sulked, his brow furrowed as he stroked Alastor’s legs, up his calves and creeping up his thighs. “I said… I said you’re mine, and they all laughed and said, ‘until he gets bored of you.’” The man’s eyes grew large and emotional. “Then they all started lining up for the next–next shot.”
Alastor huffed a breath through his nose. Vincent had had one too many to drink, huh?
“My silly weather-man,” Alastor said, closing his book and tilting up Vincent’s chin. “You know I only belong to myself, not a piece of property to be traded around.”
Vincent looked up at him, with a slightly dazed expression. Then he said, “Yes, but…” And his gaze grew focused and sharp. “You’re mine.”
Then he pulled Alastor flat against the bed, and he clutched his book to his chest as he did. “V-Vincent..?”
Vincent looked up at him from between his legs, his chin resting on his bush. “Let me show you, Al. I’ve been thinking about this since… since I left the bar, but… I need to show you.”
“Show me what?” Alastor said, putting the book down and feeling the man’s hot breath close to his skin, the sensitive parts of his inner thighs. “It’s a Friday night, dear. You shouldn’t let a little locker room talk get in the way of your fun.”
“My fun is right here,” Vincent said in a rough voice, a growl almost, and kissed his right inner thigh, held gently in his large hand. “I can please you better than any guy can, Al.”
Alastor gave a small smile. “Fine, go ahead then.” The man had a chip on the shoulder, and it was often best to let him attempt to prove what Alastor knew already. “Let’s take a shower after though.” Alastor would indulge him, but he wanted to return to the ruminations of the green light across the bay before bed.
Vincent nodded and kissed his thigh again, but lower. His lips were soft and traveled down his thigh, kissing gently despite his rough attitude earlier. Then he kissed up to Alastor’s abdomen, his nose going through Alastor’s soft bush, then across to his other thigh, kissing from the inner crease upward to his knee.
Despite not being in the mood earlier, Alastor could feel himself getting wet, the cool air and Vincent’s gaze making him feel exposed and vulnerable.
Vincent brought both hands up and gently wrapped them around Alastor’s legs, holding them apart from the inside, his hands curling around his hips. The man looked up at him, one blue and one green eye glistening in the warm light, and he began to feast.
He wasn’t kidding, he had been thinking about this for hours. The man dove in and pressed a soft tongue to Alastor’s folds, and licked upward to his clit. Then he pressed his lips to Alastor’s folds gently, covering them entirely, his tongue licking at his entrance while he sucked gently. Alastor could feel himself begin to coat Vincent’s tongue and chin with slick.
The man’s tongue swirled up and down his lips, kissing and sucking and drinking up every little drop Alastor was dripping out. His tongue wagged side to side, then up and down, before pressing harshly into his clit, which had grown swollen and aching. Despite himself, small sounds were being pulled from Alastor with each swipe and press of the man’s tongue into his entrance.
The man flicked his tongue repeatedly as Alastor arched himself into Vincent’s mouth, at that angle, just the right angle, before diving in and kissing and sucking him, holding him open with his hands. Alastor squirmed, as the pressure grew, mounting with each swipe, swirl, and kiss. “Ahh… Vincent…” He attempted to close his legs as Vincent focused on his clit, sucking on the knob, and flicking it gently with a tongue, feeling his pussy leak even more slick onto the damp bedsheets. Vincent focused on it, neglecting the rest of him, overwhelming him with the stimulation, yet leaving him aching for something missing, something that needed to be inside.
“Mmmm… oh, fuck…” Alastor couldn’t close his legs, Vincent holding them apart and spreading him more roughly as he continued feasting, the man’s chin getting wet, getting soaked. Alastor shuddered, something beginning to build and mount inside him.
Vincent released his clit, leaving Alastor gasping and teary-eyed, before closing his eyes and licking up the slick that had poured out during his clit attack, sucking up the juices. Alastor’s head was spinning, the man pulling more moans from him than usual, and seemingly keen to pull even more. Alastor’s knees clenched around Vincent’s head as the man released his grip, freeing his hands to point two fingers and curled them, deep inside Alastor’s pussy.
They slid in effortlessly, his husband finding the spongey spot instantly, like a homing instinct, and pressing and curling into it. Every press sent a shudder through Alastor, making him grit his teeth and bringing a tear to his eye. The man began pumping it, in and out, as he opened his mouth and panted onto his folds, licking it, swirling the slick that had gathered there.
Alastor could distantly hear himself moaning and whining, each sound growing louder with each pump and flick of Vincent’s tongue. The bedsheet beneath him was soaked, even with Vincent lapping up every drop he could. Sucking it out of him, dripping all over the man’s fingers, and splattering his chin.
“You’re mine,” the man mumbled as he pressed a kiss and looked up at Alastor’s face, who sat up and was looking down at him desperately, panting and shuddering, that pressure building within. Alastor just swallowed and kept gasping and groaning as his pumps grew harder, faster, his tongue lapping up more of the dripping juices, then swirling his clit with it.
Vincent looked up at him again, his nose deep in Alastor’s bush as his jaw worked. He licked a stripe up from where he was leaking all over Vincent’s fingers up to his clit and off, as he said again, with more intensity, “You’re mine, Al. All of this is mine.”
Alastor just closed his eyes, feeling lightning begin to strike and hit him from head to toe.
“I’m the only one…” Vincent panted, his face flushed, his lips covered in slick, “who can make you feel like this… right, Al?”
Alastor was shaking his head, trying to think with the fingers pumping and hitting that spot, a steady pounding making his heart race and lungs gasp, as the man’s mouth and tongue grew more ravenous, insistent, aggressive. “N-not so fast, Vincent… mm…!”
His thighs closed around Vincent’s face, trapping him deep within him, blocking out all sound as Alastor squirmed, trying to get away from the fingers and tongue pulling more desperate sounds out of him, yet also trying to keep them close.
Vincent grabbed his thighs, hands wrapping and squeezing, holding them apart enough to spread him open, but letting Alastor squeeze his legs around his neck. Alastor was on the precipice now, head light, panting, on the verge of covering Vincent with come.
“Vincent…fuck… I think I’m gonna.. I’m gonna…”
The man responded by just burying his head deeper, squeezing his thighs more tightly, burrowing his tongue inside Alastor. A lewd slurping sound reached Alastor’s ears and he flushed, more than he had been already. The man continued sucking on his everything, tongue delving inside him, curling and lapping at that spot. Vincent’s lips caressed every surface it could find, smearing everything with slick.
The light was building behind Alastor’s eyes, and when he opened them, the view of his husband’s face buried in his pussy, shoved deep between his legs, tongue buried up to the hilt, eating like a man starving, undid Alastor and filled his vision with white. He jerked and shuddered as something tensed up and released, come covering Vincent’s face, his legs tightening and threatening to choke the man by the neck. He grabbed Vincent’s hair by the roots to hang on, burying his fingers in the soft hair, as the man mercilessly continued eating him. Everything was suddenly too much, every sensation magnified, as his climax continued to electrify him from head to toe. But the man wouldn’t let him go, no doubt feeling his muscles quake and tighten all over his tongue, no doubt covered in come already. If anything Vincent was like a shark in bloody water, frenzied, starving, in his element.
It was probably one of the more intense orgasms Alastor had had, not that the man didn’t try, but something about Vincent with something to prove had changed the experience tonight into a desperate buffet for one. He continued coming as Vincent took his tongue out long enough to lick and stick his fingers in and mumble, disheveled and flushed, “Yes, that’s it, Al, give me more, that’s it baby, you have no idea how much I wanted this, I wanted this so bad… You all over my face, grinding up into me… fuck, keep going, keep coming for me, Al.”
The man was relentless, not letting him take a breath, even with the orgasm still rippling through his body. Alastor curled around Vincent’s body, nearly tearing the man’s hair out of his scalp. Then he flopped back onto the pillow, panting and exhausted.
Vincent kissed his pussy once, reverently, having drank up everything Alastor had to give. He felt sore down there as if he had taken an all-night pounding, and swollen, his clit as hard as a rock. Vincent continued kissing it, softly, letting the shudders and jerks die down, his hands stroking up and down Alastor’s thighs soothingly.
“So beautiful, Al,” he said. “God, I’m such a lucky man… I’m the only one who gets to have this sight…”
Alastor sighed out a laugh and reached down and grabbed Vincent’s face in his hands, pulling him up on top of him gently. He pressed a gentle kiss into his husband’s lips, tasting himself. “My silly Vincent... I already knew that.”