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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 23, 2008 14:06:38 GMT -5
"It was worth it for that reason."
He teased at Carlos the best he could, settling around him and imagining--yes, that's what it was like, fantasy, imagining, or sharing the idea of touch--lips against his neck.
"But for all else...I never would have made the pact."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 23, 2008 14:27:53 GMT -5
Carlos nodded, but it turned into an arch of his neck as the sensation of Destler's tease ran across it. That's what it was--a tease. His fingers flexed on the arms of the chair, desirous of further activity.
"Wish I could touch you," he murmured, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "I can feel you, but can you feel me? At all?"
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 23, 2008 14:33:02 GMT -5
"I can't feel anything. Not in any way I can describe. Like a dream. It will have to be enough for now."
He gave the impression of wrapping arms around the other man for a few moments, and then, wandering hands over Carlos' chest and shoulders and stomach as if from behind.
"But that you can feel is good. All I need."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 23, 2008 14:52:13 GMT -5
"It's like a whisper," Carlos said, sighing in frustrated pleasure. "Like... the breath of a caress. It's good, just to have you here. In any form."
But I want more.
He couldn't help the thought; his whole body seemed to be thinking it.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 23, 2008 15:01:08 GMT -5
"I know. I will find a way...perhaps you will take a trip down below after all, to visit Monsieur l'Phantom and Julian. They are dealing with a similar situation, actually. Julian mentioned something about being able build a body. But I had told him...ah...there may be the answer!"
Why hadn't he thought of it before? Distraction, of course. He ghosted his lips along Christopher's jaw.
"I must think more on this. For now...would you like me to take control of your hands as I did at the piano?" he chuckled.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 23, 2008 15:42:29 GMT -5
Carlos had no idea what Destler was referring to: who Julian was, what he could mean about a similar situation. But his suggestion sent a jolt of arousal through him. Of course, Carlos was quite capable of controlling his own hands--but the thought of letting Erik play him as he played the violin excited him. Even if he had no body of his own.
"Yes," he groaned.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 24, 2008 1:15:35 GMT -5
"Mmmm." The composer hummed in his lover's ear and sort of sank into him, taking only a moment to give Christopher that same connection they'd had whilst composing the love song at the piano and the tenor would find himself slightly numb from the shared control.
"Will this be too strange for you, my dear?"
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 24, 2008 10:41:25 GMT -5
His skin buzzed, but Carlos missed the weight of another, the tangible proof. It was better than nothing. By far. His joy at Destler's reappearance--in whatever form--went a long way. As he felt the slight numbness, like limbs falling asleep, he sighed at the oddness of it all but didn't fight it.
"Perhaps," he chuckled. "But if you don't do something, I'm going to have to. You told me once to wait for you, and I have." His voice was dark with longing. "I'll wait as long as you ask me. But it's been a long time."
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 24, 2008 10:46:18 GMT -5
The frustration at not being able touch Christopher's face with something other than the man's own hand was overwhelming for a moment, and he seemed like little more than a voyeur, unable to feel anything himself, but Carlos' hands worked at his trousers anyway.
"Then relax and enjoy, Christopher--I'll grant you this small bit of relief until I have a body to take you with."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 24, 2008 11:18:57 GMT -5
The words--and accompanying mental images--aroused him even further and Carlos sank back into the chair, motionless but for the working of his own hands. He could feel them, but it was not at all like touching himself. Except in a dreamlike sort of way. He was no longer accustomed to giving in like this, but Destler did something to him. He'd always liked older men. Mentors. Despite his fame, his accustomed self-sufficient arrogance, Destler had restored that longing to be shaped and mastered.
"Tell me," he sighed. "Tell me you love me, Maestro. You want me."
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 24, 2008 11:32:20 GMT -5
"You know that I do--you remember, the all-too brief moments I held you, I know you could feel the physical desire I had for you. It is such a hunger, my dear--a fire no other has been able to ignite to equal heat." He chuckled, his borrowed hands as skilled here as they were at the piano.
"And more than that, I do love you...when I am able I will show you such heat and such tenderness as you've never known."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 24, 2008 12:15:29 GMT -5
He did remember, but he wanted--needed--to hear it. Between Destler's voice and his own hands, it was almost...
"I know," he murmured, his rich voice rumbling. "I felt it. But desire can mean so many things... Oh yes... And I will show you... And I needn't always be the student..."
His thoughts lost coherence in the warmth of his/Destler's hands, the uncanny yet familiar feelings combined with the added electric shock of new passion, nearly unfurled.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 24, 2008 12:27:38 GMT -5
"Oh ho? What will you show me, my little teacher?"
The smirk could be heard in his disembodied voice and his ghostly lips passed against the younger man's neck.
This was pleasant, but the lack of real contact was beginning to become distressing.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 24, 2008 12:35:50 GMT -5
Carlos' chuckle became a gasp.
"We'll just have to see," he said, and he hoped, fervently, that they would get that opportunity. In his distraction, he began directing Destler with his thoughts, letting him know what he liked, how it felt, what he wanted, as he arched in the chair.
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 24, 2008 12:52:45 GMT -5
He took this private little instruction to heart, enjoying at least granting these few minutes to his pupil, but when the scene was finally played out, he lamented the inability both for greater intimacy and the simple act of being able to give the young tenor something warm and solid to rest against.
Destler released his control over his lover and his own thought-voice fell silent.
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