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"How many times, Schatzi?"
The courtroom has quieted significantly since the trial ended, almost everyone except for Apollo and Klavier having already left. They're both standing behind the defense's bench, and Apollo's been stalling— he's pretended to be organizing his paperwork for around ten minutes, now.
Klavier leans down and pushes his face into the crook of Apollo's flushed neck; breath falls heavy on his skin, hot enough to burn. There's suddenly a sharp, pulsed vibration in Apollo's cunt— and he clenches involuntarily around the toy that's inside him.
This was such a stupid fucking idea.
Much too early this morning, Apollo had woken up to a hand rubbing the inside of his thigh. Klavier was behind him, pressed flushed against his back while reaching around to touch the sensitive spot between Apollo's legs. He had pushed up Apollo's boxer briefs, compressing his skin like a rubber band ready to snap.
"Why don't we have some fun today, Liebling," Klavier posited as he pressed a kiss into Apollo's hair.
Apollo murmured drowsily, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as they adjusted to the too-bright bedroom. Everything was warm, so incredibly warm— the body cradling him, the down comforter laid on top of him: his slowly reddening leg. The curtains had already been opened, light searing into his retinas that only made denser the fog clouds crowded in his still weary head. And with every dragging stroke of Klavier's fingers, a pleasant tingling sensation had started to spread up his inner thigh.
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean, Klav," Apollo grumbled softly, shifting his hips to offer more access while nuzzling the back of his head on Klavier's face. He could feel himself starting to grow wet in his underwear, dripping into the thin fabric. "We have a trial. And are you going to fuck me or do I have to do that myself?"
Klavier just hummed, the noise rumbling deep against Apollo's back. It filled his heart with a resounding calm, smoothing out his spiked edges.
"So impatient," Klavier whispered. "If you're so eager for something inside you, why don't you wear your favorite toy in court today, ja?"
The words had barely registered in his exhausted state, so he had sighed, "If you let me go back to bed."
The next thing he remembers happening is when he was about to walk out the door, suit on and briefcase in hand, and he was abruptly stopped by a palm clamped on his shoulder.
"Forgetting something, Hase?"
Apollo had turned, greeted by Klavier holding up a remote-controlled vibrator in his free hand. The toy is made of smooth silicone, bulbous at one end that's meant to sit on his g-spot: the other end thin and meant to rest against his clit. It's one they use often when Klavier's touring and they have some free time. Normally they're on the phone, Klavier manipulating its vibrations with an app— but it does have a regular remote for close proximity use.
Turning bright red, Apollo hissed, "You can't be serious."
The smile he had gotten in return made his clit twitch: a shiver of anticipation that unfortunately spurred his arousal enough to give in.
It was despicable never knowing when the vibrations would return; the sick suspense was almost as rousing as the buzzing itself. It would come and go in waves: rippling from his pelvis first to his legs, his knees— then up his stomach, settling underneath his ribs where his lungs seemed to lose all understanding of their intended use.
And now, the trial having concluded, Apollo's entirely soaked through his underwear— and probably his pants, too. He had been smart enough to change into black slacks, but he's almost positive that it's still noticeable if someone looks close enough.
Open lips meet Apollo's neck, a swift flick of the tongue licking at the gathered sweat under his jaw. He smacks a hand against Klavier's shoulder, angrily whispering, "F-fucking stop it, there's still people here."
Klavier's eyes scan the room, and they both watch as the last person exits out into the lobby: the heavy wooden door swinging smoothly back and forth before coming to rest mere moments later. There's a sudden stillness to the air, punctured only by Apollo's attempt at restrained breathing.
"Doesn't look like it to me," Klavier smirks, taking his hand out of his pocket and revealing the small remote hidden in his palm. He clicks a button, and the buzzing swiftly starts in Apollo's pussy again: directly thrumming against his oversensitive g-spot.
This time Apollo doesn't have to hold back, so he lets out an obscene moan as his face collapses into Klavier's chest. His legs have been trembling for much too long, and they almost gave out from under him a few times during the trial. Close to the entirety of his pelvis has turned numb, overstimulated from the toy's abuse. The contractions in his cunt have barely stopped for the last hour, squeezing the vibrator uncontrollably— only making things worse for himself as it grinds against his walls.
He feels another gush of slick leaking out of himself, pooling in his underwear; the fabric has stuck to him like it's been smothered in honey.
"Aa-ah, shit," Apollo moans, his fingers raking into Klavier's shirt. "I can't— Klavier—"
"Answer me, Liebling," Klavier interrupts as he runs his hand through Apollo's hair. "How many times?"
Panting, Apollo asks, "Hah, how many— how many times what?" He can't help but rut his hips forward, meeting only sinfully unsatisfying air. Unlike earlier, he now feels absolutely no remorse for his unrestrained action.
"How many times did I make you come?" Klavier calmly elaborates. The tone of his voice is annoyingly mellow, as if he hasn't just spent the last few hours torturing his boyfriend's pussy with a sex toy in public.
It takes a second for the question to settle itself in Apollo's muddled brain, his eyes continuing to glaze over. He answers, "I d-don't, fuck, maybe, mmfh, twice?" It's perhaps the worst lie he's ever told in his entire life, and both of them know it— but the vibrations pushing against his engorged clit are making him feel like he could pass out at any second.
The sensation inside of him abruptly stops, and he whines: both grateful and disappointed at the loss. He takes the moment to breathe, his lungs barely functioning as designed while he tries to inhale deeply.
Klavier puts the remote back in his pocket and sneaks a hand into Apollo's pants, pressing his fingers on Apollo's folds while dipping into the massive amount of slick there.
"Seems like more than twice to me," he says, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. There's something glowing behind his eyes— reflecting the fluorescent lighting bearing down on them from above with a ruthless shine. "Or are you always this wet for me in court?"
A desperate mewl escapes Apollo before he answers, "I think it was, four— four times." He pauses before continuing, "Might have, hah, might have been more. I'm pretty sure I— I blacked out for a little bit after the third."
Humming, Klavier hooks a finger onto the curve of the thin part of the vibrator next to Apollo's entrance, and tugs— pressing the bulb inside callously against his g-spot.
Another moan falls from Apollo's lips, and he can feel the sweat on his face soaking into Klavier's shirt. "Klav," he pleads, "can we please go somewhere else? We're going to— someone's going to walk in and see us."
"But you've been having a great time right here, have you not?" Klavier responds as he starts pulling the vibrator in small circles, churning Apollo's walls like a washing machine on a spin cycle: and he's just as soaked.
Klavier retracts his hand and makes quick work of Apollo's trousers and underwear, pushing them down past his thighs before wrapping his hands around the back of the newly exposed skin. It takes no time at all for him to haul Apollo upward, seating him on the edge of the defense's bench: legs dangling off the side. He then ducks down, crouching before coming up to rest himself in between Apollo's splayed legs.
"Scheiße, you're so beautiful," Klavier praises, lifting Apollo's legs onto his shoulders. He settles his head in front of Apollo's plumped, flushed pink folds and continues, "Look at you. I could spend the rest of my life right here and die happy."
As Apollo braces his arms against the wood beneath him, he can't help but try to shift his hips, rolling his pants further down his shins so he can spread himself wider. His inner pelvis is absolutely enveloped in slick, globs matting his trimmed pubic hair. Even after all this, he needs it so badly— needs Klavier so badly.
Only a moment goes by before he realizes that he's still got the vibrator inside of him. Even though it's quieted, it's still sitting flush against where he needs Klavier the most. Apollo reaches a hand down, intending to pull it out himself, but he doesn't need to. He feels a blunt force pressing inside himself, and when he looks, Klavier's got his teeth wrapped around the sides of the external part of the vibrator: biting into the thin silicone like a dog with a bone.
Apollo gasps, "What are you—"
The toy is ripped out of him in a single motion and pops out of his cunt with a loud squelch. It scrapes against him, more pressure mounting on his upper walls with its forward momentum. A gush of arousal drools down his perenium as it exits his hole, dripping onto the bench below. His empty cunt clenches around nothing as he squeals, tongue caught high on his palate, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Klavier—"
It's almost enough to make him come again: but he holds himself steady, working through the shallow contractions in his pelvis with calming breaths.
The vibrator hits the ground with a dull thud, and Apollo pants, "Shit, did it break?"
Chuckling, Klavier kisses the inside of Apollo's thigh. When his lips lift off Apollo's skin, there's resistance from tacky, half-cooled slick; Apollo's body just doesn't want to let him go. He says, "Why are you so worried about the toy, Hase?"
"Wasn't it expensive?"
Klavier digs his nose into the hair above Apollo's clit and says, "I'll buy you another. I'll buy you ten. But right now, I'm busy." His tongue snakes out and gives a tentative lick to the sensitive nub, earning a low, brassy whine. Softly clamping his mouth down, he sucks on it like he would a popsicle: in slow, deliberate motions while moving his tongue in small circles.
It's almost too much— Apollo's clit pulsing in time with his heartbeat, enflamed skin sending pinpricks up his torso and down his legs. But he feels it again, surging forward like an avalanche, racing down the mountainside that is his quickly winnowing consciousness: and he's unable to do anything to stop it. He doesn't want to stop it.
He whimpers, lower abdomen mindlessly bucking, "Klav, fuck, I'm gonna— I'm gonna come. Please, I need you to… please make me come, please—"
Klavier pulls, breath like magma and lips covered in spit punctuating the pressure vacuum, and that's all it takes for Apollo to launch over the edge. His hips snap up as he moans, slick gushing out of him and into Klavier's open mouth. The entirety of his body rushes through with wildfire, searing down him down to his bones while peeling him open like the world's juciest orange.
"Nnng, ah, fuck," Apollo whines, his eyes squeezing shut: every drop of his arousal devoured by Klavier's eagerly awaiting mouth. Each contraction of his cunt makes him feel like he's never going to be able to still again— wave after wave of unending motion overtaking him while his tensing fingers try and fail to find purchase on the solid hardwood underneath him.
And Klavier doesn't stop: pressing his tongue flat against Apollo's weeping folds, letting Apollo rut himself up and down with broad strokes.
When his body stops trembling, Apollo looks down at Klavier, who's staring back up at him with hungry eyes. A mix of spit and slick is coating Klavier's chin, absolutely ruined by Apollo's leaking. It dribbles down onto his collarbone, and Apollo can't see because of the angle, but it's possible he's drenched the front of Klavier's shirt. His chest doesn't slow with the rest of his body though, his sternum trying to disconnect from his torso with every upward movement of the filling of his lungs.
Klavier opens his mouth wide again, leaning in— and Apollo says, his eyebrows smashing together, "I… I don't think I have, hah, another in me," but he's interrupted by a hot tongue snaking against his hole. Just the tip rubs against him, teasing another moan into the air with a single fluttering brush.
"I know you can do it," Klavier coos, licking another wide swipe against the whole of his pussy. The glide is so easy that Apollo almost thinks that Klavier's going to slide off his skin if he moves too quickly. "I'll help you."
Even just the light touch is making him shiver, his body running as hot as a steam engine. But even as the rest of him is boiling, his pelvis feels frozen over— a sharp and jagged iceberg, each contact sending him deeper and deeper into the relentless floes.
"I'll— I'll try," Apollo mewls. There's an intense dryness overtaking his throat, every single ounce of fluid within him seeming to be seeping out of his endlessly sweaty skin or his wet cunt.
Apollo almost shrieks as Klavier's tongue breaches his hole, and clamps his hands over his mouth while his head collides with the bench underneath him. A stinging pain rings through his skull, radiating across his jaw and neck through aching ley lines. The exhalation from his lungs makes him feel dizzy as the intense warmth surrounds his face in uneven gusts.
The squelching coming from his cunt is needlessly vulgar as Klavier works his way inside, each press against him drawing another spurt of fluid. As he hears the noise, Apollo can't help but think about the crowds of people milling around just outside of the heavy courtroom doors: all completely ignorant as to the absolute ravaging that's happening to his pussy.
What would happen if someone were to walk in and see them? What if someone opens those doors right now and finds Klavier tongue-fucking his coworker and rival, the defense's bench and ground below absolutely drowning in slick? And what is the janitor going to think later when they're cleaning up a suspicious amount of fluid off of every surface on this side of the room?
The thoughts do nothing but make him clench harder around Klavier's tongue as his breath somehow quickens even more. He tenses his fingers tighter over his lips, hard enough to bruise; and he almost wants it to. If everyone knew— if everyone knew anything—
Apollo hopes they'd be jealous.
Jealous that he gets to have this whenever he wants— gets to have Klavier Gavin, world-famous rockstar and prosecuting attorney, eating him out like he's a five course meal every single night of the week. Jealous that they'll never have Klavier displaying his breath control in between their legs, or know how good it feels to have him inside of them: grinding on every single right spot. Jealous that Klavier can make Apollo come again— and again— and again.
He groans as Klavier's nose rubs around his swollen clit, circling in rhythm with the tongue inside of his cunt. It seems impossible, but it reaches Apollo's g-spot: the spongy bundle of nerves raw and twitching. Almost immediately, the pressure deep inside of him is building again like the first signs of a pot of water boiling. He doesn't know how his body is still so reactive— at least five orgasms already having been stolen from him since he put the toy in this morning.
More pants escape him as his walls are passionately bullied, his fingers spreading around his mouth as he says, "Fuck, ah, oh my God, I think… I think I'm gonna come a-again, nngh."
He only receives a single moment of respite as Klavier backs away and purrs, "Let it out, Liebling," before diving back into the sopping pool that is Apollo's ruined pussy. "Such a good boy for me."
The words flip some hidden switch in Apollo's brain, and he's instantly seconds away from coming again. Tears start forming at the corner of his eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks in heavy streams. He tries to speak, but the only thing that comes out is a strained whimper: drawn out as he pulls his mouth into a thin line.
It's almost like he's floating; every part of Apollo's mind is melting onto the floor along with the liquid being drawn out from deep inside him. Right now he couldn't care less about being walked in on— he probably wouldn't even notice the heavy doors creaking open, or footsteps echoing only a short distance away.
The only thing worth his attention is Klavier's blonde hair, rubbing on his inner thighs hard enough to give him road rash: Klavier's fingers, slowly pushing on his flesh to spread him impossibly wider: Klavier's tongue, targeting the spots inside that cut out the stars from the sky and instead plaster them on the back of his eyelids.
All encompassing, all consuming: all lust, and depravity, and indulgence. All Klavier.
Incisive fingernails dig into Apollo's glutes, harsh and barbed, while Klavier's firm, fearless tongue stuffs him full with a white-hot inferno: and he's gone— glazed over eyes kiln-fired into a ceramic mosaic of bliss.
A lightning bolt of pleasure courses straight through him, his toes curling wildly in his dress shoes and his fingers gouging into his mouth as he moans incessantly. Swell after swell of slick spurts from his pussy: all dutifully swallowed with unyielding ease. He huffs short hah hah hahs as his respiratory system frantically grasps for air, and his legs shake— the only thing keeping them from falling off of him entirely are Klavier's secure fingers and sturdy shoulders underneath them.
"Hnngh, ah, Klavier," Apollo wails. He doesn't know when he squeezed his eyes shut, but tears have started rolling down his cheeks in hot streams and trickling onto the bench beneath him. The bursts of swirling hues dancing in what remains of his vision are spinning him in a ceaseless cyclone, and each buck of his hips synchronizes in time with the hopeless clenching of his cunt. "Hah… holy… holy shit. Oh my God."
Klavier licks a final, gratuitous line from Apollo's perenium up to his clit, feather-light and teasing. It almost singes his folds, which are enormously puffy and swollen. Apollo's really not sure how he's going to be able to walk out of the room if he's rubbing against his underwear while this sensitive.
When Apollo's able to open his eyes again, Klavier is rising from his hunched position in between his gaping legs.
Klavier's jaw, neck, and shirt collar are completely drenched in slick: its slime globbed against his skin and the thin fabric near his collarbone. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes back with a bright sheen that catches in the overhead lights.
As the fog bleeds out of his vision, an urgent realization flashes into Apollo's head. "Fuck, you haven't even," he mutters. "Give me a second, ah… I'll— I can, suck you off, or something." He flutters his eyelashes again as he tries to regulate his breathing back down to a normal pace; his lungs are as unstable and quivering as a rope bridge suspended over a bottomless ravine.
But Klavier leans over Apollo's torso, shaking his head before bringing their mouths together. Apollo can taste himself on Klavier's lips: salty, and sticky like a half-eaten lollipop. When they part, it just leaves him wanting more— more.
"Did you— Klav, that's so fucking hot," Apollo smiles as he furrows his eyebrows and blinks the dewdrops out of his tear ducts. Their gazes meet, tender and inviting.
Wiping more fluid off of his jaw with the sleeve of his jacket, Klavier asks—
"Same time next week?"