"You've reached the inbox of Jeremiah Gottwald. I'm unavailable at the moment, but leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you."
[McGillis was starting to strongly suspect that this man could handle a lot worse than some tipsiness, although that was another conversation for another time. Ideally a time that did not involve a foot between his thighs and a cock on his tongue, even if Jeremiah didn't seem to have much of a sense for appropriate timing. As demonstrated by that inappropriate question.
Consent was, of course, critical. He had demonstrated as much during their first meeting and he was demonstrating as much now, after reasonable negotiation. But it should've went without saying and thus without asking—yes, of course you can. Not that he can manage that much, just huffing around that submerged cock and threatening it with the slightest scrape of teeth.
And then, because evidently his partner learned best through demonstration, McGillis gobbles up Jeremiah the rest of the way. His cock slides down his throat, so slick and so soft, bulging against the delicate flesh and trapped by that thick column of muscle. McGillis doesn't even choke, doesn't so much as flinch, just letting Jeremiah see how a professional conducts himself.
Just letting him come to the realization, all on his own: you couldn't pay for cocksucking this good.]
[No sound makes its way out of his open mouth at first, but Jeremiah's wide eye says enough. It's deep, so deep, and he doesn't even budge once he's resting with him stuffed to the hilt. Like it's not even hard for him. It clearly isn't.
But Jeremiah also doesn't know who he's truly dealing with, either.
Groaning loud this time, he finally shifts himself to free up a hand, planting both feet back into the floor, nudging his shin between McGillis's thighs. He ends up seeking the back of his neck, sliding up to the hairline but not pushing, just cradles the dip at the base of McGillis's skull for stability as he tries not to melt into the scalding column of his throat. It's slow at first, for the urgency seeping into his core, dragging his hips back, choking on his inhale at the sight of those last couple inches pulling out. Sure enough, he sinks right back into that impossible heat as easy as the first time.
He's mindful but intent as he moves, startled into attentiveness by unfamiliarity. It doesn't stop him from trying, giving another slow push. This time, his eyes catch the bulge in McGillis's throat shifting with him, and Jeremiah shakes with the force of his gasp.]
[This man was going to beg his way into that bed and the very notion fills McGillis with a perverse glee.
For a moment, though, the situation turns a bit precarious; McGillis may have had the manners of a noble, but he was raised by the streets. He fought for his food and fucked for his money. And as a street rat, he tended to react rather poorly to any stray touch to the back of his neck, to the raised spines of his own brutal surgery. At least he was aware enough to realize that Jeremiah meant nothing by it, so there was no reason for any sort of altercation. But regardless, he does hesitate—likely long enough to communicate that this was definitely a no-no place.
The moment passes and McGillis finds himself distracted by that questing leg, all but humping it now to alleviate tension. McGillis withdraws for a few seconds, panting each time, coating Jeremiah's cock with saliva and gasping for air and returning for another round. As effortlessly as the rest of this encounter, he deepthroats Jeremiah and gives him the full experience of a proper prostitute. No longer abiding a slower pace, but then again, that was the point. He swallows like he was born to it and sucks until he wheezes, until he works himself into a full frenzy.
And when he finds the space to speak, it is only to incite Jeremiah further.]
Fuck my mouth—
[Permission granted. He wants to, needs to, has to feel that cock full force.]
[The pause is brief, enough like a falter to his otherwise impeccable rhythm that Jeremiah heeds, his touch receding as quickly as it came. Mindfully, he settles his hand to the crown instead, breathing still rapid as his fingertips bury themselves in his hair, just enough to steady himself.
He's pushing harder with his leg now, more free to let his hips shift with it, still hanging on with every intent to reciprocate and yet chasing the opportunity to give anything in turn. As if a man like McGillis would ever come in his, well, suit over something like this, as if he could provide even a fraction of what that nasty mouth and slick throat were doing to him. The wait was worth it for this, watching him slip his mouth right off, his cock and McGillis's lips both streaked with spit, then diving back with that same ease as before. Tension has already built itself heavy in his thighs, his hips, the pit of his stomach. When the pace ticks up, he knows it's not slowing back down, and he won't have any choice but to be carried along with the tide.
McGillis speaks, and when he shoves his mouth back down Jeremiah swears he sees as much as feels his cock pulsing in his throat.
So he draws back, tightens his fingers around the railing, around those blonde locks, and complies. Jeremiah's not fast, not careless yet, but he's stopped holding back as he humps into his mouth. It makes the pleasure sink that much brighter into his nerves, forcing every exhale out of his mouth a little louder, a little harsher. Someone could hear the obscene slurp of McGillis's mouth, his own rasping sounds, but it's pleasure too good to stifle. As if the picture they'd paint should someone walk around this or that corner wouldn't be more damning.
He's not thinking about it, driving his hips faster to a luxurious groan, still trapped watching the swell down the column of his neck, knowing he can't last.]
[Choke me, choke me, McGillis commands, without uttering another salacious word. And of course the good general gets what he wants, because he fucks hard for his food, as he always has and always would. While he wasn't likely to get off on Jeremiah's merit, he nevertheless appreciates the effort—appreciates it so much that he starts to touch himself through the suit—and it was obvious enough that he was still painfully hard from the whole affair. Much like Jeremiah, throbbing away in his mouth, ready to burst at any moment. Poor little put upon noble.
So he will make it good for the man. In fact, he will make it downright great, so amazing that he will have this exchange to compare to every other in this damnable world. Even half-shut, his eyes seem to taunt him; even robbed of the ability to speak, he goads Jeremiah towards climax. He continues to show off, shamelessly so, that he could and would continue to suck cock as it pleases him. He won't halt and he won't hesitate and he will shrug off every criticism because he was going to change the world. And he would start by ridding the hangar of that thing.
Or at least moving it someplace he could no longer see it. Small steps, really.
For now, though, McGillis will sit there and suffer. And he will suffer oh so sweetly, because he really wasn't kidding: he loves to suck cock and he loves to please men who think they are above his charms. Because nobody really was and that was part of the problem; just ask the friend he betrayed for the sake of that beautiful world. For now, though, enjoy the show.]
[Every time Jeremiah pushes a little harder, it doesn't make a difference, McGillis just takes and takes and takes. He's already lost himself in it, rutting harsh into the rigid passage of his throat harder than he feels safe to but searing so good across his nerves that he can't stop. He's right, Jeremiah very well could be ruined for anybody else. It won't be a surprise or an injustice, not when he can concede McGillis to be the best he's had.
He'll earn his victory, too. The satisfaction in his face, red from exertion and staring up with toxic eyes, they speak every inch to his wants. His wants to please to be pleased in turn, to get what he wants but have it given to him the way he wants it, too. And Jeremiah will walk away sated but bested, with a sweet memory to haunt him.]
I'm close.
[Jeremiah couldn't care less as he rides the high of the moment, for this brief time, while it's his. He's watching McGillis, carefully gripping his hair with both hands now, fucking in earnest to get the rest of the way there, fucking him like he's buried somewhere else. Moaning breathlessly on every thrust, his chest heaves with the force of his ragged pants, spine curling inward as his muscles begin to go taut.]
[Greedy men are greedy, McGillis relentlessly so; while that ragged warning might have thrown some into a panic, the telltale rumble of a chuckle would suggest McGillis has no such qualms. If anything, he rides the high along with him, buoyed by a building enthusiasm. Bolstered by his own, drawing Jeremiah into that bottomless den of debauchery. And somehow he finds a way to make it worse, right at the very end, because leave it to the good general to get what he wants—even at someone else's expense. Even if it was cruel and downright sadistic.
Deliberately slow, McGillis drags out his tongue and drags out Jeremiah. Pressing that reddened cheek flush to his cock, he makes a sloppy mess of all that precome and makes damn sure that Jeremiah will look at nothing and no one else but that smirking, sneering face. Like staring into the jaws of a snake, poised to deliver the final blow. Curling inward, prepared to strike.
And it was going to hurt so, so good.]
Go on, then.
[He leans into that tight hold, encourages an even tighter one. And dares him, right at the very end.]
All over my face, since you were thinking of it.
[...there's just no cure for that relentless brand of audacity.]
[It wouldn't matter what he had been thinking, all he has to do is say it for it to sound like the best thing Jeremiah's heard, already staring at the slick mess on his face, the desperate curve of his cock pushed against it. McGillis is beautiful, flushed and hungry and spilling the most tempting of ideas from those swollen lips. He would look better painted a complete mess.
And again, the first few movements are on the side of cautious until he gets a feel for it, McGillis's cheek plush and hot against him. Strange at first, but he understands quickly enough, so close that the friction quickly makes up for the loss of his throat. Jeremiah tightens his grip sure enough, fistfuls of his hair to anchor him as he rocks, sliding his length furious and slippery against his face.]
Oh... oh, oh-
[Hissing, he pushes harder and speeds up, taut enough to be perfectly telling, his strokes short and needy and fast. It's just a little cruel, rutting his hips so hard, but it doesn't last for long. A shudder crashes through him when he comes, a clipped shout eking out of his open mouth before he can stifle it, curling inward with the force of his orgasm. His cock pulses, pressed so close that he just gushes all over that pretty face, his forehead and his cheeks and the bridge of his nose catching it all, with nowhere else for it to go.
It wrings everything Jeremiah has out of him, and once the storm passes he straightens and falls back a little, implants clunking against the railing as his body is left wiped for a moment. His grip loosens, finally relinquishing McGillis's hair to cup his head. He doesn't speak, just pants through parted lips, gazing down with every inch of desire he has, drinking the sight in.]
[Yet another haughty nobleman, effectively cut down to size. Not a bad catch for what began as a mere barter.
Despite the sheer salaciousness of it—or perhaps because of it—McGillis revels in every lewd moment. He knows very well that Jeremiah has lost; he knows very well that he was to blame and that Jeremiah will not soon forget every sight and every sound of what took place here. As his composure cracks, as he chants oh, oh, oh, McGillis grins like an absolute fox. Almost mean, almost mocking, except he won't deny the man his rightful reward. He managed to last this long, after all, longer than most. Seeing him through was the least he could do.
It may have been a little cruel but McGillis likes it a lot worse. Parting his lips and awaiting his own reward, McGillis catches a few drops on his tongue while the rest of that furious orgasm will find a home all over that beautiful face. Streaking his cheeks, painting his skin, soiling his hair and dripping down his nose. Somehow it seems to suit him, that defilement, that ruin.
Sticky seed coats his fingers and falls into his waiting mouth, wide enough for Jeremiah to witness. Yet unsatisfied, he unzips the front of his suit and proceeds to jack off into his other hand. Until he comes too and makes an even bigger mess and it was impossible to tell who did what and where. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe it was a not so subtle form of entrapment.
You can't escape me now, so says the snake. The snake that now rests on its laurels, recovering from its hearty meal.]
[He was right, McGillis looks even better like this. Of course he doesn't miss a second of that mouth, that blessed, cursed mouth licking up what falls into it, hungry but not starved. He just looks as sated as Jeremiah feels. In the aftermath, Jeremiah also feels an utterly sweaty mess, the draftiness of the hangar pleasant on his skin but a reminder of his exertion, paired with his panting breaths. He's in no rush to get dressed anyway, taken apart as he is. His legs are still pretty leaden underneath him, though an arm over the railing helps make it a little more comfortable.
He could look at McGillis for some time, though it doesn't take long for him to catch on to the movement below. Jeremiah groans softly, watching his hand work with equal hunger to let it continue and intervene so he can return some measure of the favor. Fully hard, his cock is better than he'd imagined, he just looks so good that Jeremiah waits too long watching him caught up in his own pleasure.
And even he wouldn't dare complain, not now, not after receiving the best blowjob of his life, not while it's all compiling in his head, just watching McGillis come satisfying in its own right. But there's a knit to his brow, one that doesn't quite pair with the rest of his expression, still warm in the afterglow, knowing his chance was robbed of him.
The satisfied look McGillis maintains through it all lays claim to committing the very crime.
And what can he say in turn, really, that McGillis doesn't already know? Words feel useless to describe what transpired. This doesn't feel like a loss either, even with his pride bested, not just from the warmth settled in his bones. If he wants him to give chase, well, good. It would be harder for him not to.]
[Things are quiet for a time. Certainly compared to moments before, as McGillis stares calmly back at Jeremiah—as if he hadn't just enjoyed a mouth and a face full of cock.
And when he speaks up again, it is with that same smoothness. That same deliberate purr, the same clever roll of his tongue from their first meeting on the beach. As if he wasn't a disgusting mess, as if he had no shame or no pride at all. Or maybe he did have some pride, the pride of utterly pleasing a man and driving him towards inevitable ruin.
And of course he will smile, because McGillis knows nothing else.]
You will move your monstrosity, as agreed.
[Such a beautiful order from beautiful lips. And of course he will go on:]
Then you will carry on with your day and forget this ever happened.
[It should feel more awkward, really, but he's still transfixing. It's in the eyes, he thinks, not just for how vivid or unflinching they are. Harsh to look at, for too long a time. Jeremiah can't place it yet.
The words are about what he expects, but there's no change to his voice after the way Jeremiah had treated him. He's really not sure how, but then again, clearly there's a lot he still has to piece together about a brigadier general this good at swallowing a man whole.]
Of course, as we had agreed.
[Jeremiah straightens, expression evening as he politely tucks himself in his underwear before doing anything else. It's a mess, he's a mess, nothing can be done for now. With his other hand, because he still likes to think himself a gentleman and wouldn't just offer him even further mess even if he clearly doesn't mind it, Jeremiah reaches out to offer McGillis assistance getting to his feet.
He doesn't need it, that much is obvious. But he'll see if he takes it anyway.]
[It really could be anything. That's what Jeremiah's learned about men who spoke like McGillis, is that it's hard to be sure. So for the time being, he takes it at face value, and plows forward as he always does.]
[Wrong answer. But McGillis accepts it anyway and boosts himself up, further demonstrating his prowess by regaining his composure with a few deft flicks of his own hand. Although nothing short of a hot shower will fix the rest of it, so maybe Jeremiah won in that sense. Jeremiah will remember and so will he.]
You should request a meeting with the Augur. I believe they will be willing to barter with you now.
[Maybe that would be a better demonstration of sex and its influence. Dryly he adds:]
Try to secure a space for yourself, as opposed to wandering the wastes like a vagrant.
[He's got an inkling of what he'll find the next time he pulls up his card, at least, if its functions are just as inexplicable as the force behind it. First, he's got to attempt to feel dignified enough to make an exit. Doing up his pants, Jeremiah nods, his expression a mix of things, tempered as it is.]
I'll do so promptly. Thank you, McGillis.
[For the advice, for the sex, for the help he really did need. It's all tangled up, of course the answers all feel wrong. He hopes his gaze says enough, but there's no way to say for sure. At the very least, Jeremiah feels he's more than overstayed his welcome in the grander scheme of things. So he folds his clothes into a bundle to tuck under his arm, deciding the rest can wait for later.]
[It feels a bit weird, being thanked for that. But McGillis can't really find fault with the approach, well-mannered without that earlier stench of condescension. Speaking of stench, though, McGillis was more than aware that he needed that bath and needed it now. So he just shrugs and turns to leave, but not before offering one last piece of advice over his shoulder.]
I won't be the only one.
[He won't be the only one to accost him, to tempt him, or even to be tempted by him. This was a world ruled by sex, and if Jeremiah didn't understand that by now, then there was little hope for the future. A future which he might extend to him; a bed he might share with him, a home he might have with him. But not today, not as he walks off to his own space.]
Get better or get left behind, little noble.
[...actually, the most admirable part was how effortless he made it all seem. Or the most pathetic.]
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Consent was, of course, critical. He had demonstrated as much during their first meeting and he was demonstrating as much now, after reasonable negotiation. But it should've went without saying and thus without asking—yes, of course you can. Not that he can manage that much, just huffing around that submerged cock and threatening it with the slightest scrape of teeth.
And then, because evidently his partner learned best through demonstration, McGillis gobbles up Jeremiah the rest of the way. His cock slides down his throat, so slick and so soft, bulging against the delicate flesh and trapped by that thick column of muscle. McGillis doesn't even choke, doesn't so much as flinch, just letting Jeremiah see how a professional conducts himself.
Just letting him come to the realization, all on his own: you couldn't pay for cocksucking this good.]
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But Jeremiah also doesn't know who he's truly dealing with, either.
Groaning loud this time, he finally shifts himself to free up a hand, planting both feet back into the floor, nudging his shin between McGillis's thighs. He ends up seeking the back of his neck, sliding up to the hairline but not pushing, just cradles the dip at the base of McGillis's skull for stability as he tries not to melt into the scalding column of his throat. It's slow at first, for the urgency seeping into his core, dragging his hips back, choking on his inhale at the sight of those last couple inches pulling out. Sure enough, he sinks right back into that impossible heat as easy as the first time.
He's mindful but intent as he moves, startled into attentiveness by unfamiliarity. It doesn't stop him from trying, giving another slow push. This time, his eyes catch the bulge in McGillis's throat shifting with him, and Jeremiah shakes with the force of his gasp.]
Shit... McGillis...
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For a moment, though, the situation turns a bit precarious; McGillis may have had the manners of a noble, but he was raised by the streets. He fought for his food and fucked for his money. And as a street rat, he tended to react rather poorly to any stray touch to the back of his neck, to the raised spines of his own brutal surgery. At least he was aware enough to realize that Jeremiah meant nothing by it, so there was no reason for any sort of altercation. But regardless, he does hesitate—likely long enough to communicate that this was definitely a no-no place.
The moment passes and McGillis finds himself distracted by that questing leg, all but humping it now to alleviate tension. McGillis withdraws for a few seconds, panting each time, coating Jeremiah's cock with saliva and gasping for air and returning for another round. As effortlessly as the rest of this encounter, he deepthroats Jeremiah and gives him the full experience of a proper prostitute. No longer abiding a slower pace, but then again, that was the point. He swallows like he was born to it and sucks until he wheezes, until he works himself into a full frenzy.
And when he finds the space to speak, it is only to incite Jeremiah further.]
Fuck my mouth—
[Permission granted. He wants to, needs to, has to feel that cock full force.]
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He's pushing harder with his leg now, more free to let his hips shift with it, still hanging on with every intent to reciprocate and yet chasing the opportunity to give anything in turn. As if a man like McGillis would ever come in his, well, suit over something like this, as if he could provide even a fraction of what that nasty mouth and slick throat were doing to him. The wait was worth it for this, watching him slip his mouth right off, his cock and McGillis's lips both streaked with spit, then diving back with that same ease as before. Tension has already built itself heavy in his thighs, his hips, the pit of his stomach. When the pace ticks up, he knows it's not slowing back down, and he won't have any choice but to be carried along with the tide.
McGillis speaks, and when he shoves his mouth back down Jeremiah swears he sees as much as feels his cock pulsing in his throat.
So he draws back, tightens his fingers around the railing, around those blonde locks, and complies. Jeremiah's not fast, not careless yet, but he's stopped holding back as he humps into his mouth. It makes the pleasure sink that much brighter into his nerves, forcing every exhale out of his mouth a little louder, a little harsher. Someone could hear the obscene slurp of McGillis's mouth, his own rasping sounds, but it's pleasure too good to stifle. As if the picture they'd paint should someone walk around this or that corner wouldn't be more damning.
He's not thinking about it, driving his hips faster to a luxurious groan, still trapped watching the swell down the column of his neck, knowing he can't last.]
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So he will make it good for the man. In fact, he will make it downright great, so amazing that he will have this exchange to compare to every other in this damnable world. Even half-shut, his eyes seem to taunt him; even robbed of the ability to speak, he goads Jeremiah towards climax. He continues to show off, shamelessly so, that he could and would continue to suck cock as it pleases him. He won't halt and he won't hesitate and he will shrug off every criticism because he was going to change the world. And he would start by ridding the hangar of that thing.
Or at least moving it someplace he could no longer see it. Small steps, really.
For now, though, McGillis will sit there and suffer. And he will suffer oh so sweetly, because he really wasn't kidding: he loves to suck cock and he loves to please men who think they are above his charms. Because nobody really was and that was part of the problem; just ask the friend he betrayed for the sake of that beautiful world. For now, though, enjoy the show.]
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He'll earn his victory, too. The satisfaction in his face, red from exertion and staring up with toxic eyes, they speak every inch to his wants. His wants to please to be pleased in turn, to get what he wants but have it given to him the way he wants it, too. And Jeremiah will walk away sated but bested, with a sweet memory to haunt him.]
I'm close.
[Jeremiah couldn't care less as he rides the high of the moment, for this brief time, while it's his. He's watching McGillis, carefully gripping his hair with both hands now, fucking in earnest to get the rest of the way there, fucking him like he's buried somewhere else. Moaning breathlessly on every thrust, his chest heaves with the force of his ragged pants, spine curling inward as his muscles begin to go taut.]
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Deliberately slow, McGillis drags out his tongue and drags out Jeremiah. Pressing that reddened cheek flush to his cock, he makes a sloppy mess of all that precome and makes damn sure that Jeremiah will look at nothing and no one else but that smirking, sneering face. Like staring into the jaws of a snake, poised to deliver the final blow. Curling inward, prepared to strike.
And it was going to hurt so, so good.]
Go on, then.
[He leans into that tight hold, encourages an even tighter one. And dares him, right at the very end.]
All over my face, since you were thinking of it.
[...there's just no cure for that relentless brand of audacity.]
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And again, the first few movements are on the side of cautious until he gets a feel for it, McGillis's cheek plush and hot against him. Strange at first, but he understands quickly enough, so close that the friction quickly makes up for the loss of his throat. Jeremiah tightens his grip sure enough, fistfuls of his hair to anchor him as he rocks, sliding his length furious and slippery against his face.]
Oh... oh, oh-
[Hissing, he pushes harder and speeds up, taut enough to be perfectly telling, his strokes short and needy and fast. It's just a little cruel, rutting his hips so hard, but it doesn't last for long. A shudder crashes through him when he comes, a clipped shout eking out of his open mouth before he can stifle it, curling inward with the force of his orgasm. His cock pulses, pressed so close that he just gushes all over that pretty face, his forehead and his cheeks and the bridge of his nose catching it all, with nowhere else for it to go.
It wrings everything Jeremiah has out of him, and once the storm passes he straightens and falls back a little, implants clunking against the railing as his body is left wiped for a moment. His grip loosens, finally relinquishing McGillis's hair to cup his head. He doesn't speak, just pants through parted lips, gazing down with every inch of desire he has, drinking the sight in.]
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Despite the sheer salaciousness of it—or perhaps because of it—McGillis revels in every lewd moment. He knows very well that Jeremiah has lost; he knows very well that he was to blame and that Jeremiah will not soon forget every sight and every sound of what took place here. As his composure cracks, as he chants oh, oh, oh, McGillis grins like an absolute fox. Almost mean, almost mocking, except he won't deny the man his rightful reward. He managed to last this long, after all, longer than most. Seeing him through was the least he could do.
It may have been a little cruel but McGillis likes it a lot worse. Parting his lips and awaiting his own reward, McGillis catches a few drops on his tongue while the rest of that furious orgasm will find a home all over that beautiful face. Streaking his cheeks, painting his skin, soiling his hair and dripping down his nose. Somehow it seems to suit him, that defilement, that ruin.
Sticky seed coats his fingers and falls into his waiting mouth, wide enough for Jeremiah to witness. Yet unsatisfied, he unzips the front of his suit and proceeds to jack off into his other hand. Until he comes too and makes an even bigger mess and it was impossible to tell who did what and where. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe it was a not so subtle form of entrapment.
You can't escape me now, so says the snake. The snake that now rests on its laurels, recovering from its hearty meal.]
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He could look at McGillis for some time, though it doesn't take long for him to catch on to the movement below. Jeremiah groans softly, watching his hand work with equal hunger to let it continue and intervene so he can return some measure of the favor. Fully hard, his cock is better than he'd imagined, he just looks so good that Jeremiah waits too long watching him caught up in his own pleasure.
And even he wouldn't dare complain, not now, not after receiving the best blowjob of his life, not while it's all compiling in his head, just watching McGillis come satisfying in its own right. But there's a knit to his brow, one that doesn't quite pair with the rest of his expression, still warm in the afterglow, knowing his chance was robbed of him.
The satisfied look McGillis maintains through it all lays claim to committing the very crime.
And what can he say in turn, really, that McGillis doesn't already know? Words feel useless to describe what transpired. This doesn't feel like a loss either, even with his pride bested, not just from the warmth settled in his bones. If he wants him to give chase, well, good. It would be harder for him not to.]
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And when he speaks up again, it is with that same smoothness. That same deliberate purr, the same clever roll of his tongue from their first meeting on the beach. As if he wasn't a disgusting mess, as if he had no shame or no pride at all. Or maybe he did have some pride, the pride of utterly pleasing a man and driving him towards inevitable ruin.
And of course he will smile, because McGillis knows nothing else.]
You will move your monstrosity, as agreed.
[Such a beautiful order from beautiful lips. And of course he will go on:]
Then you will carry on with your day and forget this ever happened.
[But of course you won't.]
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The words are about what he expects, but there's no change to his voice after the way Jeremiah had treated him. He's really not sure how, but then again, clearly there's a lot he still has to piece together about a brigadier general this good at swallowing a man whole.]
Of course, as we had agreed.
[Jeremiah straightens, expression evening as he politely tucks himself in his underwear before doing anything else. It's a mess, he's a mess, nothing can be done for now. With his other hand, because he still likes to think himself a gentleman and wouldn't just offer him even further mess even if he clearly doesn't mind it, Jeremiah reaches out to offer McGillis assistance getting to his feet.
He doesn't need it, that much is obvious. But he'll see if he takes it anyway.]
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Are you sure about that...?
[He seems to be referring to something else. That or he simply continues to play the game, long after he has already won.]
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Yes.
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You should request a meeting with the Augur. I believe they will be willing to barter with you now.
[Maybe that would be a better demonstration of sex and its influence. Dryly he adds:]
Try to secure a space for yourself, as opposed to wandering the wastes like a vagrant.
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I'll do so promptly. Thank you, McGillis.
[For the advice, for the sex, for the help he really did need. It's all tangled up, of course the answers all feel wrong. He hopes his gaze says enough, but there's no way to say for sure. At the very least, Jeremiah feels he's more than overstayed his welcome in the grander scheme of things. So he folds his clothes into a bundle to tuck under his arm, deciding the rest can wait for later.]
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I won't be the only one.
[He won't be the only one to accost him, to tempt him, or even to be tempted by him. This was a world ruled by sex, and if Jeremiah didn't understand that by now, then there was little hope for the future. A future which he might extend to him; a bed he might share with him, a home he might have with him. But not today, not as he walks off to his own space.]
Get better or get left behind, little noble.
[...actually, the most admirable part was how effortless he made it all seem. Or the most pathetic.]