Embrasse

His voice rises in volume and pitch, but it doesn't--can't--drown out the slick wet slurping sounds of Suzaku's tongue wrapped around his prick. Lelouch moans, presses his thumb in alongside, feeling smooth, clean teeth squeak against the pad as he stretches Suzaku's lips obscenely, watching through slitted eyes his own thick cock disappear between sex-swollen lips. He groans, words spilling from his mouth in thick, sticky streams. French is a sibilant language, bubbling and hissing and splashing like water. It lacks the hard, choking sounds of the Britanian language, the hard "ck" sounds that make English words sound so vulgar. It also happens to get Suzaku off like almost nothing else he's ever tried.

He could have been reading the dictionary as he'd pushed Suzaku to his knees in front of him. He could have been recounting his grocery list when he'd ground his clothed crotch against the high planes of Suzaku's cheekbones, or recounting a particularly boring day in classes as he knotted his fingers in Suzaku's dense curls and rubbed the other boy's opened mouth across the clearly raised shape of his leaking erection. He could have, but he didn't. He found it better to pant and plea, to whisper filthy sweet words into the air, promises and praises and not a small amount of begging--plus, rapidement, ah! plus fort! Suzaku'd moaned like he knew what Lelouch was saying and had swallowed him in a rush that had left him dizzy and breathless. He'd seen stars when his head thumped against the wall behind him.

Now Lelouch's eyes nearly cross as he looks down at the sight of Suzaku kneeling before him, mouth shiny and wet and stretched obscenely, Lelouch's own cock flushed and dusky with desire shoving in past slick red lips. Suzaku's shoulders jump rhythmically as he strokes himself with a firm hand, thighs splayed and framing the fine bones of his wrist as he works efficiently. Moans vibrate in the back of his throat and Lelouch whimpers, whole words breaking apart into muttered obscenities. When Suzaku chokes and gasps and splatters seed across his feet, Lelouch closes his eyes tightly and lets go. He babbles in half-coherent French, barely able to recall his own name as he spills into that wicked waiting mouth.

He collapses into waiting arms, sagging boneless to kneel beside Suzaku. "Embrasse-moi," he commands, bumping the bottom of Suzaku's jaw with his nose. It's an instruction he knows, so he does, again and again for as long as Lelouch will let him.