dream a little dream of me | Glowfic Constellation

"And mead's strong enough to cover it?"

of-the-west

“Most likely. But the more you can split the dose, the better. Often when she drinks she takes two or three.”

"I'll do what I can. How quickly will she feel it?"

of-the-west

“Twenty minutes, maybe. But it’s easy to confuse with alcohol, and it’s certainly pleasant enough to buy you time.”

"I'm starting to think you've tried this before."

of-the-west

“One does get bored in the barbarous wastes.”

"Well. I'll see what I can do."

"...if anyone wonders why we were meeting ......"

of-the-west

“Oh, of course.”

He slides a little closer on the log, just close enough to feel the warmth of his body in the chill.

“For our alibi, is that it?”

"Y...es? If ... maybe? Yes?"

He's squirming visibly. Is this okay? Is he pressuring him? Is he a bad person? Does it matter? What if Anatole's the real guy after all?

of-the-west

He picks apart the laces on the front of his pants and takes him in hand, unconcerned by the squirming.

This is a very effective way to increase the amount of squirming. Camillo presses up against Anatole's side and puts his forehead on Anatole's shoulder and fucks Anatole's hand.

of-the-west

He doesn’t seem quite as intent on teasing him, this time. He puts his free hand on Camillo’s head and lets him fuck his hand, strokes him quickly and firmly.

...okay this is actually kind of concerning.

Camillo puts his hand on top of Anatole's hand on his dick.

"Are you -- okay? We don't have to..."

of-the-west

“…what?”

He looks baffled.

"...you're acting weird. I don't actually -- um -- I don't actually ... want ... to ... if you don't?"

of-the-west

“…do you think I think the whole town will sniff it out if you haven’t come this morning?”

"I think you think that if I go to Dorothy and say 'Anatole tried to get me to put this in your drink' I won't be the one wearing my own guts as a stylish accessory."

of-the-west

“—even if your word was better than mine, she can’t kill me without a diplomatic incident and a war.”

"You clearly think she can do something or you'd have tried it yourself--"

He cuts himself off. Why is he arguing this.

"Fine. Never mind. Fucking jerk me off already."

of-the-west

He laughs, and does so.

He looks him in the eye this time, though, watching his face intently.

He has unlocked a new maximum on the amount of squirming. Camillo keeps making and breaking eye contact, twitching in his hand every time he does. He'll look away, biting his lip, or screw up his face and close his eyes tightly, and then a second later he'll peek out from under his lashes to see if Anatole's still watching him, and thrust harder when he sees that he is.

of-the-west

Anatole finds this boundlessly entertaining.

The only time he ever looks away from Camillo’s face is to look, briefly, at the particular way he’s fucking his hand.

With increasing desperation, now, hot and heavy and throbbing across his palm; and then he's burying his face in Anatole's shoulder to escape his gaze while he gasps in pleasure.

of-the-west