Mariah.

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing [M]

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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
With his glass castle mounted high in the wispy clouds, the crowned King of Olympia—Dawson Clarke—felt remiss without someone to sit by his side upon the throne. Everything else would be coveted with ease, so it seemed. His mayoral campaign, more specifically, appeared without flaw, so it was simply a matter of time before he'd capture that prize as well. Now, as the sun set on another day in the city of dreams, his aim was to make amends with the person who captured his heart; someone who hadn't a clue how Dawson truly felt about him as of yet.

The hour was drawing near: the moment Nathaniel Devereaux's flight would touch down in Olympia, and he'd arrive at Dawson's 'not so humble' abode. Dawson had already taken necessary measures to arrange their rendezvous, lighting candles around the luxurious marble jacuzzi bath, overlooking the sparkling city through transparent walls. After garnishing the steaming bubbles with rose petals and setting aside two bottles of the finest champagne, plucked the master bathroom's bar, he awaits his chariot to bring with it his spoils. He undresses to merely a short cashmere bath robe, his muscular legs and tight glutes teasing the rest of his fine, naked physique which he worked diligently to craft. Then... the bell would finally toll, the driver requesting entrance through the gates to paradise.

"I'm upstairs!" Dawson calls through the intercom to his arrived guest once he heard the front door pry open, afterward pouring himself the first glass of Krug Brut Vintage to wet his palette, against the sounds of neo-soul on vinyl. Every second thereafter melts like sugar, into what felt like centuries, adding to the excruciatingly long wait for this dire reunion with his lover. The footsteps of designer dress shoes against the expensive flooring grow louder in echo through the mansion, when suddenly they'd come to a stop behind him. With his trademark, high wattage smile just for his guest, Dawson turns to face Nathaniel and quietly observes the unchallenged specimen; his hair a blend between silk and gold, his seductive smirk framed by a steel, square jaw, his powder blue irises locked in a narrow shell, giving forth a natural smolder. No one could compete—except, of course, himself.

Slow in his path toward his mate, he arrives face to face, finally. "Would you look at what we have here," he greets with effervescence, stroking his palm against Nate's cheek, then taking him in for a tight embrace. "Color me shocked that I was finally able to pull you away from your Olympic training, for any time at all. Thought the Y2K apocalypse would end us all before I even got to see you again. And you look..." he pulls back, combs his green eyes over Nate once more, and exhales, "fucking amazing."
MONTY
@prince.
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oOo5rcG.gif I DON'T WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES; I DON'T WANT TO FALL A SLEEP
Embracing the tight, muscular yet comforting hug, Nathaniel accepts the glass of champagne offered by Dawson. The room grows quiet as he begins to study the setting that was once so familiar to him during a time the two would enjoy each others company. Truth is, he was nervous. A little too nervous to be in Dawson’s presence once again. It had been a while since they had seen each other and all he had known for the past year was swimming. His first love. But the unique love he had for his friend was different in the sense that he wasn’t certain about it, nor was he even certain about Dawson. What he was certain about was that he loved being intimate with him, hence his willingness to accept the invite.

“I’m glad to see you still have the robe I got you,” Nathaniel says, looking at his former lover directly in the eyes. Another thing he was extremely familiar with: those beautiful, green eyes that could hypnotize even the strongest of souls. The mutual eye contact reminded him of how exhilarating his escapades were before he left town. Their tension was thrilling and their chemistry was more euphoric than the strongest of drugs. He would never admit it aloud but Dawson was the number one reason why he left in the first place - and now that he is back, all he could think about was loosening the barely tied knot and letting the robe slid down to the floor until his fit, naked body was no longer covered. He runs his eyes down Dawson’s body, composing himself after salivating at the site of his firm, muscular thighs. Yes. For the first time in over a year, Nathaniel Devereaux was home.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
"I'm glad you're glad, but you won't be seeing it for much longer," Dawson teases and titillates in a soft tone, whilst a devious smirk—made through devilish thoughts—embeds across his lips. So desperately did he want to place them upon Nate's plump, lush mouth... then his neck, then chest, then stomach...

He'd waited long enough... 

But what was raging war with his hunger for his lover, was his desire to savor this for all he could. The build up, the foreplay; every part of it was worth prolonging. The prolonging also meant he might be able to put off his confession, the main reason he brought the Olympic athlete over. Despite their heated altercation their last meeting—that arose in the wake of the doping scandal which Dawson protected Nate from—he still had deep, unsung feelings for him. And the longer he kept them hidden, the more they'd gnaw at him piece by piece. As it stood, tonight is when he planned his vulnerable confession, where from there they'd figure out how to navigate it under the blinding spotlight of fame and recognition. Especially under Dawson's important political campaign. "Want a drink?" he offers, breaking up his profound thoughts. "You've gotta be parched. I honestly don't find first class to be that generous with portions, which is why I told you should use my private jet. But naturally, stubborn as you are, you refused."
MONTY
@prince.
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oOo5rcG.gif I DON'T WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES; I DON'T WANT TO FALL A SLEEP
“The usual, please.” Nathaniel once again locks eyes with Dawson, “You do remember, right?” he questions Dawson, followed by a sly smile. As Dawson heads to the bar counter to fix him up a drink, he grabs a seat on the edge of the jacuzzi, legs crossed, displaying his perfect posture. As he awaits for Dawson to finish up, he could not help to study him from behind. His eyes wandered all the way down to his robust glutes, almost hypnotized.

“So, what is the reason for the invite? Last time we saw each other, I didn’t think we’d ever so much as look at each other again, so this invite caught me by surprise. And well, to be frank, I didn’t accept the private jet offer because I thought you would have it crash,” he chuckles, as Dawson turns around with a glass of his usual: Bourbon, filled three quarters of the way with three ice cubes. Though he was usually used to being number 1 at everything, Nathaniel’s favorite number was 3. “Thank you,” he grabs the glass of Bourbon, savoring a sip, before bringing back his focus to the matters at hand.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
The question having ignited a rare feeling of worry and anxiety, Dawson develops a character trait just as outside the norm as his emotions, becoming uncharacteristically... timid. The real reason for his invitation left yet to be spoken out loud, he fixes his attention on his glass of champagne, staring into the deep gold tint as the silence crescendos. Finally he replies, first refusing eye contact then eventually meeting the earnest and curious gaze before him with an intense one of his own.

"To be honest with you, it took me shaking away a lot of my pride to admit this: but I was wrong for how I acted or reacted, and I just wanted to bring you here in hopes that we could put all of that behind us. You are, afterall, going to the Olympics for your final games in just a handful of months. And as my closest friend, I wanted to make amends so I can be in your corner, giving you all my love and support. You deserve it for all that you've done for me." While there was truth laced throughout his monologue, his final sentence took the talent of a thespian to deliver. Despite the way he felt in regards to Nate, he never felt that Nate was ever wholly there for him like he was for Nate. From Dawson's perspective, it was always him who'd swoop in and be the Superman, all because his love and devotion were undying. All because he felt he had to constantly prove it to his object of affection, in an effort to help Nate realize what they have and what they could be together. But still, he wasn't quite ready to confess to the typically detached bachelor as of yet. Not before reminding him of what else made them so great together.

Reaching out his hand and rimming the line of Nate's lip before leaning forward and breathing upon them, the space between them becomes so sparse he nearly tastes the bourbon he shared. "I also missed these,"  he hums.
MONTY
@prince.
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oOo5rcG.gif I DON'T WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES; I DON'T WANT TO FALL A SLEEP
For a moment, Nathaniel was frozen from Dawson’s touch. Being face to face, sharing the same breath was chilling and only brought memories of the nights the two used to share. Nathaniel was taken aback by his honesty and despite his hard exterior, it softened him inside knowing that the only person that has ever loved him enough to save his career still has that same amount of love for him, albeit not the kind he wanted. Truth is, Nate had a feeling that Dawson wasn’t being completely honest. Something was off and he was unsure if coming back and being used for a casual fuck was what he wanted at this point in his life. In the back of his mind, he began to think of the options and being the public figures both him and Dawson were, coming out to the public did not seem like a viable option—especially for Dawson.

As Dawson continues to rim the outlines of his lips, Nathaniel closes his eyes, while subconsciously licking Dawson’s thumb. “Is that all you’ve missed?” he says, snapping out of the momentary trance. “Something is telling me that you’re not being fully honest and I don’t know if I want to get it out of you. Surely you can understand why I’m apprehensive towards unbuttoning my pants and giving you the business for old times sake.” The mood in the room shifted and Dawson backed up and grew quiet. Nathaniel takes a sip of the now watery Bourbon and he stands up.

“You want to leave everything that happened in the past but you never even apologized for the way you treated me. You acted like I was indebted to you simply because you got me out of trouble but you vilified me and called me toxic every chance you had.” Nathaniel clenches his jaw and stops himself from going further. The look in Dawson’s eyes made him stop.

“I’m sorry…” he murmurs.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
"Don't be," Dawson counters, maintaining the close distance between the two of them. His eyes, however, fall as an internal battle of the emotions anger, resentment, lust, affection and remorse, rages through his conscience. As it were, only Nate had the ability to make him—as powerful as he projected himself to be—feel so powerless. Only Nate could push him to lose control of himself, both in mind and body. 

Momentarily, he's transfixed. Then finally, he swallows his pride to at least grant Nate a fleshed out apology, in place of the profession of his love—the love which although he'd yet to say out loud, was still very transparent to both. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. Because you're absolutely right: I should have already said it, but I haven't." Finding himself a seat at the edge of the jacuzzi bath, next to Nate, Dawson nests his elbows upon his bare thighs, folds his hands and leans forward, still avoiding the gaze of his love interest. "And I haven't been the most patient or understanding when it comes to you. But I just want you to know that... that I would never intentionally try to hurt or upset you," he soothes, before turning his head and grabbing one of Nate's hands. It was a gesture that despite their sexual intimacy, had yet to be breached. It was an intimacy beyond the physical; one which expressed the deep feelings Dawson was too cowardly to scream from the rooftops. "I care about you way too much for that. It's just that both you and I know I always let my emotions get the better of me. Not that it excuses my actions, because there's no possible way it could. I fully admit I was wrong, like I already said."

Dawson tightens his grip as means to gear himself up for his next intended act, then warily interlocks his fingers with his friend's. "God," he titters, "You know what's funny, Nate? The fact that despite my profession requiring me to deliver speeches and be well spoken, expressing myself to you has always been terribly difficult. If I can't properly put into words how sorry I am and how much you mean to me, then I'd really like to show you. And although it's probably impossible for me to make it up to you, I'd love for you to let me try..."
MONTY
@prince.
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oOo5rcG.gif I DON'T WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES; I DON'T WANT TO FALL A SLEEP
Nathaniel’s body grows tense and a knot forms in his throat. He felt handicapped and, once again, speechless. On the way to his meeting with Dawson, while he didn’t know what to expect, he was aware of the possibilities. Never did he expect to feel this powerless, however. Even after a year passing by, Dawson’s power over him is still very much prevalent—if anything, it's stronger now considering they have not shared a breath in such a long time.

I… Nathaniel begins to form a sentence, though his thoughts are not in order. Still feeling powerless, not knowing how to react to Dawson’s offer, he puts his face in his palms and begins to unceremoniously break down, like a lost child. He could only hold his pain in for so long. Three words begin circulating his mind; three words that have never been said aloud, but have been implied, anyhow. I love him he thinks, while Dawson wraps his arm around his back in an attempt to calm him down.

“That means a lot to me, Dawson. More than you fucking know. Because I... I think I'm in love with you,” he sniffles and whispers, avoiding any potential eye contact. “For a year, my feelings for you have been eating me alive and I could not get myself to tell you any of it because I never wanted to see you again. But then I just accepted your invitation because I could not bear it anymore, and at this point, I just had to say something, then brave whatever was to come afterward. So there: I am in love with you. And you’re the first and only man I’ve ever felt this for—but you scare me, for that reason and more. You have a career; both of us do. Very, very public careers. And I doubt yours is going to welcome you with open arms if you ever admit to screwing men. It’s political suicide, and you know it. So, I love you, and maybe you love me too… but I can’t hide. I don’t want to hide it anymore. I just don't know what we should do when I can't quit you.”
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
Dawson's top lip repels from his bottom, leaving a gap in between filled with hot air and a staccato breath. His green tinted eyes stretch wide and a thin sheet of salt water slowly begins to flood them, until a single tear escapes the bottom lid. As fate would have it, those three small words which Nathaniel spoke out loud were the very three words Dawson was too cowardly to express, despite that being the basis of this meeting. But his reservations only existed until now. He grabs hold of Nate's face, placing a hand on each cheek, and turns it toward him before speaking softly and closing the space between them. "I don't wanna worry about that right now; the what ifs or what we should do. Not tonight. Because I brought you here to tell you the exact same thing: that I love you. And right now... that's all I wanna fucking think about. Loving you and being with you. All of you."

Dawson's chest expands and collapses with the ease of a balloon, then after too long of a wait, he puts Nate's mouth to his own, swallowing the thinned saliva coating the inside of the athlete's throat, as the textures of their tongues create small friction. He moves his body closer, leaning deeper into the depths of Nate, incredibly eager to bear his naked, impeccable physique. The same physique which yearned for his lover, desperate to have Nate lose himself in the other depths of him next... or vice versa, if the mood would call for a role reversal. The gravity of their revelation soon matches the gravity of their bodies, however, as Dawson climbs to straddle and grind against Nate, leading them to both to fall into the water filled bathtub, which forces waves to crash over the edge and drench the marble tiled floor. Soaking, dripping wet, the couple emerges from the bath, grinning wide as the strapping Dawson rises to his feet and removes his saturated, soggy robe, baring the results of his hard physical labor—six pack, rippling abs, a firm, protruding pectoral region, with tiny nipples erect at its center, sturdy, meaty thighs, and a healthy, cut shaft which the blood filling his body was rapidly rushing toward. Wading through the pool, his brows trench and his eyes increase in their passion, while his heart gallops against his chest, Dawson eager for this consummation of true love.
MONTY
@prince.
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oOo5rcG.gif I DON'T WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES; I DON'T WANT TO FALL A SLEEP
The water runs down Nate’s square face as he stares across from him, jaw clenched and eager to loosen once again onto his Dawson’s tight body. The taste of his lover lingers in his mouth—a sweet flavor, drizzled with desire—causing an eagerness for more. He moves forward while keeping his eyes locked to his partner, the water parting ways for his hard, heavy body, and finally he comes face to face with Dawson’s firm dick. His eyes slant as he takes the length of Dawson’s shaft in his hand and he begins to knead it, both the men’s breath being released harder and faster, while their eyes burn through each other. As he continues to stroke Dawson in slow, sensual fashion, Nate inches his plush lips to the tip of his penis. Slowly, he begins to taste the top while keeping his eyes locked in with Dawson’s greenish irises.

The love of his life releases a moan of utmost pleasure, followed by a sly smirk, fueling Nate’s ravenous hunger, then Nate’s hands move onto Dawson’s muscular, full thighs as Dawson gets comfortable on the side of the tub. Before taking a mouthful, Nate makes it his mission to suction to every part of his lower body—from his tense abs, to his meaty thighs, to the skin holding his pair of fruit. He next makes his way back to the length of Dawson’s throbbing, syrupy dick, his damp lips curling as it clings to each inch of his partner, from the bottom up. And upon returning to the top, he allows the organ to burrow into his throat repeatedly until his gluttony takes control, leading him back down to Dawson’s scrotum.

Nate’s pointed tongue massages the path of skin toward the depths of his Dawson’s spectacular ass, when eventually he turns his lover around to his stomach, props one of his legs onto the side of the tub and begins to lick and suck down his spine, to the centerpiece of his two plump ass cheeks, spreading it open to gorge upon.
MONTY
@Mariah.
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oOo5rcG.gif I'm wondering what you're dreaming; wondering if it's me you're seeing
Dawson’s thighs begin to shiver and his knees weaken as the sensation of Nate’s tongue is felt against his deep, guarded opening. He lets forth a gasp through his tightened throat, while his eyes flutter closed at the vigor which Nate was consuming him; vigor the two had never shared for one another up to this climactic moment. Prior, it was mainly lust fueling their acts. Now, he felt love he’d yet to experience—love he wanted to express in ways beyond their wildest fantasies. There remained no limits for either of them

Turning his head, Dawson attempts to soak in the sight of his boyfriend’s square jaw sculpting into varying shapes as he excessively devours Dawson’s spread flesh. F-fuck,” the young politician stutters, his eyelids clamping shut and his hands running along the ivory bath looking for a portion to grasp onto. His hips begin to motion like a crashing wave, against the rhythm of Nate’s tongue, giving the athlete more space to play in. It was paradise, Dawson’s spirit feeling lifted from his body and taken through the clouds, while his airy moans grow louder in sync with the satiated and heavenly chorus Nate was singing.

As Nate comes up for air, with an open mouth smile stretched between his cheekbones, Dawson eagerly turns himself back around and rises onto his feet despite his numb legs, wading through the pool of water to tear off his lover’s soaked clothing. The couple’s tongues smash into each other’s throats while they simultaneously fight to peel the fabric to Nate’s shirt from his bronzed skin, revealing the further arousing sight of the Olympian’s defined, muscular build. Dawson immediately collapses to his knees, causing the water to splash around them, and pulls down Nate’s dress pants with him, it having been unfastened by Nate himself just seconds prior. Then, without hesitation, Dawson takes hold of his lover’s pulsating cock and engulfs it with his mouth like a starved animal, letting it drive through, into the inside of his cheek, before falling out of his mouth’s grasp due to the heavy lubrication provided by Dawson’s saliva and Nate’s premature spillage. Taking the erection into his hand once more, the echo of him slapping it against his cheek to keep it firm flows through the bathroom, before he continues to allow it to fill his neck, the texture of the veins through its length feeling astounding against his sleek tongue. He bobs his head over it continuously until he’s short of oxygen, then stands back upright while gripping into Nate’s impeccable ass, to share some of the salty taste he managed to collect. With equal aggression, Dawson and Nate exit the bath, then walk to the master bedroom, where the former forcefully lifts the latter off his toes and tosses him into the bed where he’d join.

Continuing to share a passionate kiss with Nate, Dawson rolls onto his back and takes in the beauty above him. “God fucking dammit, I love you. I fucking love you so fucking much,” he whispers, almost brought to tears by the unapologetic declaration.
MONTY
@prince.
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    • Beautiful Stranger
      By Mariah.
      .intoforest { position: relative; margin: 20px auto 0px; background: #191919; height: auto; padding: 40px; width: 400px; min-height: 300px; } .intoforest img { position: absolute; height: 250px; width: 480px; object-fit: cover; left: 0px; top: 0px; filter: grayscale(0%) contrast(75%); } .ifoutline { position: relative; min-height: 220px; width: 320px; border: 1px solid #d3e0e5; } .intoforest text { display: block; position: relative; color: #e7e7e7; padding: 30px; margin-top: 210px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 180%; font-family: roboto; padding-bottom: 20px; } .intoforest lyrics { position: absolute; color: #d3e0e5; font-family: overpass; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 800; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 10px; width: 180px; line-height: 200%; padding: 20px; } HAVEN'T WE MET? SOME KIND OF BEAUTIFUL STRANGER The vibrant, colorful lights flash in repetition through the dark basement venue, synchronized with a heavy electronica beat, as a dizzy Dawson steps from the bottom staircase into the jungle. The scent of spilled liquor and a wide array of elixirs crawl its way into his widened nostrils, mixing with his overloaded senses. Removing his long black trench coat at check in to reveal a collared black mesh button-down clinging to his incredible, chiseled torso, and tight, black leather trousers, providing the perfect seat to his high ass, he passes through a slew of scantily clad, body glitter laden male patrons on his way to his private booth, tucked away in a back corner. While a celebrity in the waking world, in the depths Olympia's nights, he was merely a shadow—a mystery to all. And he liked it that way. His double life was one of America's best kept secrets, the bachelor exceptionally wary of who he'd allow in his inner circle, striving to maintain his newfound image of a clean cut, All-American prince and political prospect. So it was here he'd regularly creep to, where those who knew of his sins had their own skeletons to bury, while those who didn't either didn't care or wouldn't dare to.

      The taste of the pill he popped upon entry lingers on his wet tongue while its particles slowly make its way through his bloodstream, to his cavernous cerebrum. His desire to venture toward his vices for the night was the last sober thought swimming through his mind as his wild surroundings wrap around him comfortably. Dancing amidst the sea of gay men while he continues to work his way toward his section, his eye catches someone unfamiliar to him, leaned against a pillar, trying to enjoy the music and his drink. Dawson's unable to turn his diluting pupils away, charmed by the man's boyishly handsome looks, wide eyes, and tight, little body. The prodigal son just had to know him; to have him. But he wasn't one to chase, for he preferred the control to be with him—for he, himself, to dominate.

      Seating himself in his private booth, he continues to observe the stranger, steeping in his fantasies, until a moment to capture his attention arrives. "Hey," Dawson calls out as he reaches forward to strongly grab the gentleman by his arm once he passes by. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here before. May I get a name?" MONTY
      @Jake