It was the quiet time. The night was well passed, and dawn had not yet come. Most of the citizenry had fallen fast to sleep. The moon was awake, splashing silver light onto windows and throwing the touch of its long rays in wanton strokes across richly embroidered rugs and finely woven sheets. Iliel was awake as well. He was watching by the light of the moon.
Kun. His Kun. The light was silver, and it caught on the pale, almost marble-pure quality of his lover's skin. It danced over the rich gray platinum of Kun's hair, brought out the edges of gold on the silver trailing of his own. He stared, through eyes lidded with grogginess and contentment. The sheets whispered with the youthful magi's movements, the pillow hissing loud in his ears.
Iliel fell first upon his side. He was quiet, nearly holding his breath, unobtrusive as he eased himself up against the sprawled, slumbering figure beside him. The sheets rustled over heels and calves, stirred along the narrow angles of hips. The gray of the fabric glinted white in the moonlight and near black in the shadows, painting a constantly shifting canvas of attention. He took one last look at it before slipping fully beneath the sheets.
There, everything was shadow. Iliel breathed softly and whispered to his heart to be calm. The heat of his breath on his face always sent it racing. He focused instead on the smells all around him. There was musk in the sheets from the twisting and tangling of their bodies earlier in the night. Salt on the skin. The quiet, dusty smells of his lover. Iliel's mouth touched to the curving of rib and sculpted muscle. His lips pressed, tongue trailing, and then paused as the steady in and out of the other elf's pulse turned to a long sigh.
Iliel tucked the soft swell of his lips into a smile laced with mischief. Lower he went, his heels digging against the plush surface of the downy bedding beneath him. He twisted and tangled in the sheet, trailed hair in long messy sweeps, and brought his fingers in ghostly little touches that caused the body against his own to shift in its dreams.
Iliel's teeth grazed the crest of a hip, his lips the indentation beyond. Fingers and hair and eyelashes fluttered over thighs, breath along the inside of a knee. He shifted and stirred, rolled himself over the length of one bent leg to nestle between it and its mate. The moonlight stretched itself through the fabric, giving just enough to his eyes that he could tell distance and depth and strange variations on shadow that might have had nothing at all to do with what was there. He sighed as the legs shifted again, letting the heat of his breath bathe their joining.
There was his nose, along the soft supple skin loose about the weight of Kun's balls. There and nuzzling, warm and gusty. His eyes had shut. There was darkness and breath and the sweet smell of proximity. He nuzzled and stirred, kittenish really, then tipped his mouth to catch the swell of one orb between the hold of his lips. He suckled heated and wet, hummed low in the back of his throat, and let his prize go in response to the sigh of the sheets above his head. Awake? Perhaps, perhaps.
Iliel would not let restlessness stop him, however. He caught the smooth patch of skin between Kun's balls and the belly of his cock. He took it into his mouth, coaxing the half-hard thing to swell all the further. His tongue tapped and slid, delving down and up in a warm firm stroke between the hard suction of his lip. His mouth moved up in time with the growth, until he reached the flared tip and the sensitive thing of the slit. He explored these with his tongue as well, tracing under the edges and about the slick smooth head.
Familiar territory, but he mapped it all out as if it was new. New and his. Iliel's nails tucked short against the outsides of Kun's thighs. He smiled briefly as the hard cock gave a pulse, a sign of welcome, and he bowed his head down upon it in return. The head found his throat, bumped and notched, and he tipped to accommodate the broad flare with an eager, deep swallow. He swallowed again, as hard as he could manage, then drew away with a delighted twist of his lips as he heard the gasp come muffled through the sheets.
The smile was stifled by the cock between his lips. He was unwilling to give up the eager pulse of his prize, no matter the surprise that ran rigid along his lover's body. Iliel tucked to his treat in earnest, letting his mouth bob and slide, down and swift and wet and wanton. He sucked hard and swallowed repeatedly, plunging deep and pulling up again and again and again. His breath was a swift soft pattering of heat at the length of his lover's cock, stroking against the base of it and gathering at the tops of his thighs. His nails swept along belly and hip, the tips of his fingers played loving stacatto taps along the sides of his ass. He hummed and moaned and crooned, driven to more than whispers of noise from each sigh and stir of the man above.
Then there were fingers in his hair. They crept and crawled, slid through it as the heat from the billowing sheet whuffled about his skin. The sheet withdrew, but Iliel did not open his eyes. He kept his cheeks hollow and full and hollow again. He breathed in deep the cooler air, the strange sweet smells of the apartment as they pierced the musky veil of sex. More fingers in his hair, more petting. Along his ears, oh his ears.. past his temples, teasing at his neck. Grasping and tugging, slipping and stroking. He squeaked at a slight bucking of hips, startled himself with the sound, and recovered quickly as he swallowed about the head of the cock buried within his throat.
Iliel moaned again, low and soft, as he felt the weight of the heavy sack gather about the jutting of his chin. He drooled all the more, sweet in his anticipation, and drove his mouth warm and wet about the pulsing and jutting, stroked and sucked and pulled, dove down to do it all again. His fingers twisted at the slick, throbbing base, grasping and squeezing and willing, willing.. and when it finally came, when the belly of the shaft pulsed and swelled, he followed the movement with his mouth, stilled at the tip and let the seed erupt against his tongue. His. Sweet and bitter and sticky and there, more. More. It pulsed and he slid his mouth down, up again, forcing cum along the eager curve of his swollen lips, over the pale smooth skin of chin and jaw.
When all was said and done, Iliel swallowed around the softening of Kun's cock. He opened his eyes to barely-there slits, studying the elf through a fringe of lash that reflected silver in the moonlight. He was met with a smile, a gleaming of ardor, and returned it in kind as he eased his mouth free. His fingertips were delicate as he gathered the sticky mess upon them, his tongue pink and eager as he licked himself clean.
Up he slid, past the slick sway of his lover's flagging erection. He met Kunziet's downward curl with a smile of his own. Their mouths crashed into the space that had once been between them, lips and tongues smearing sweet and warm and slick. A tangle of passion, of love. Arms met and wrapped. Strong and gathering, slender and eager. Skin slid to skin, and Iliel found his back upon the sheets.
Kun's voice was raw with pleasure and the lingering vestiges of sleep. The words were breathed along Iliel's ribs as the statuesque paladin slid down, and down, through the dapples of moonlight and along the sweaty sheets.