ph_logs | In Which The Boy Realizes He Has Aged

In Which The Boy Realizes He Has Aged

Who: Bart Torgal and whoever is interested in his BIRTHDAY!

What: Bart's 20th Birthday (and the immediately adjacent days

When: September 2-4

Where:The clinic, the Velvet Ambrosia and Silk, the beach, Bart's house, etc

Warning(s): n/a (will update as necessary)

The Day Before
On the second day of September, after he's figured out his budget for the month and realized how tight he's let things get, Bart makes a decision:

He's got to get out more, so that he can make more stable connections with other people again. This habitual self-isolation is doing him absolutely no favors. He'd promised First Aid that they would try harder to meet one another halfway, so...he should do that. He looks down at his sending stone, sitting neat and faintly glittering to one side of his desk, and debates on calling the protectobot to see what he might be up to when his work was finished. His fingers come to rest lightly against the outer edge of the stone and...

He hesitates. Dammit, why are relationships so hard?

Birthday, Morning
When Bart awakens on his birthday, he wants to have a quiet, simple day. Half a shift at the clinic, a bit of time spent outside working in the garden that he'd started that was coming along very well by now. It was a vegetable patch with newly planted, strong stakes in the midst of the climbing stalks, and even a space where he wants to eventually install a little fountain so that he could have the sound of water closer by. He's proud of it, especially considering he'd done the majority of it alone in the back lot of his property.

Settling into his seat at his desk, Bart whiles away his time writing little notes in his journal as he awaits incoming patients or perhaps other doctors in need of an extra pair of eyes or hands. But it's a quiet day, peculiarly so considering the semi-frequent upheavals in the regular goings-on of the town, but he's certainly not complaining. It means that what he's planning for the evening, after whatever else may happen to him in the intervening hours, may actually go down without a hitch.

He can hope, anyway.

Birthday, Evening (but possibly the next day, thread-dependent)
Later into the evening, when he's got time to do so, Bart can be found standing anxiously just outside of Velvet, Silk, and Ambrosia. He's dressed well in a fine button-down shirt and comfortable trousers that make his legs look even longer. His hair has been combed before being pulled back in a low ponytail. He looks every bit the very nervous first-timer to an establishment like this, and the reasoning is twofold:

1) The Madame of the establishment makes him very nervous. She has used him as a weapon before, might as well have been responsible for the death of his roommate, and took every opportunity to poke fun at him, which he considers to be very rude indeed!

and 2) It's a brothel. It's advertised as a "love hotel with breakfast options", but the general consensus is that it's a high-end brothel. Which is fine! He has nothing against that! He's just never, ever been this close to one in his life.

So now, here he is, hovering just outside the door with his hand out, as if to test the barrier that he knew had been put in place for the peace of mind of the staff and villagers alike. He can press through it and be permitted to enter.

And he will.

In a minute.

The Day After
The day had been long, and now he wants to take some time alone to decompress Being social takes so much out of him at times, and this was certainly no exception. Bart leaves a note on the front desk at the clinic to let the others know that he would be taking the full day off to get his head back in order, and that he could be found down by the waterfront in case of emergency. Then he simply leaves, heading down toward the beach to spend his day there with his pantlegs rolled up and his feet in the waves coming ashore in their rhythmic patterns. He looks, and feels, at home here, holding his shoes in one hand and just watching the ocean a while.

Wildcard
Belated birthday greetings and/or gifts? Just wishing to say hello in general or run into him early in the month? Prod here, DM me, hit me on the Discord, and I can set up a toplvl to make threads happen.

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He purrs at the fingers carding his hair, and playfully nips at Bart's thumb between his lips.

He turns his burning gaze on Bart as he slowly leans down, and keeps it even as his mouth hovers over Bart's member. His brown eyes seem almost black with his pupils this dilated. Just as promised, he starts slow, blowing hot teasing breaths first, to ready Bart, before gingerly wrapping his fingers around his shaft. Each stroke is gentle and testing, letting Bart get used to that sensation before Max takes it further. There's no hurry. It's just the two of them enjoying each other for as long as Bart can take it.

"Good so far?"

Bart already can't help the way that he shifts and squirms under the patient touch and the sensation of warm breath across the most sensitive parts of him. He draws his lip in between his teeth briefly and nods as he withdraws his hand to place over his own mouth in an effort to keep the sound of a soft whine from escaping him.

"I feel like...if you were to teach here in earnest, you may well be the most popular attraction." As if he weren't already.

Goddamn. If only Bart could hear the way his effort to restrain himself makes the blood rush in Max's ears. Every squirm, every sound, more rapturous than the next. Max has forgotten completely that he was even supposed to be paid for the job until Bart speaks up.

He continues to stroke, while also maintaining the flow of conversation. Up and down, squeezing ever-so-much-tighter when he gets to the base at each pass. "You know, I've considered doing something like that for real. It makes me feel good to teach, and I think... my disposition helps others feel safe learning, too." Which is gratifying beyond words for him. "I love helping people feel confident with their bodies. I get as much out of it as you do. I mean fuck, dude the noises you're making for me right now have me rock hard for you."

Max's talented hands play Bart's body like a tuned instrument, deft and fluid. That, accompanied by the conversation, put Bart at ease. His core tightens at the mounting pleasure, and he has to remind himself that he doesn't necessarily need to restrain his reactions.

The assurance that Max is getting just as much out of it as he is makes Bart shift himself up onto his elbows to look down at Max where he stands, eyeing the waist of his pants pensively.

"Would you like me to return the favor? I can't promise skill, but I know what feels good to me, so I can try and learn for you as well."

"I'd love that," he answers with an easy smile. He's not worried at all; he has a feeling Bart will do just fine, as smart and sensitive as he is. Max throbs just at the delightful thought of being another first for his dear friend. The skill of his touch matters so much less than the sincerity behind it.

With one hand he reaches down to free himself, letting his pants and underwear fall to his ankles without a care for the wrinkles. He stands now proud and strong in front of Bart, still grinning like a fool. "You can take all the time you want to get a feel for it. I'll definitely be enjoying myself, don't you worry. I promise, I'll tell you if something doesn't feel good so don't hold back."

Part of him had expected for Max to tell him to wait, maybe to pace himself, generally tell him to slow down, but now, he's being encouraged to go for it and even being shown exactly what he's managed to do when it comes to Max himself. It's almost comical, the way the man drops his pants without a care in the world.

"Goodness," Bart blurts out with a soft laugh, and sits up on the counter, observing Max standing there totally on display. His fingers rub briefly into his palms, before he carefully wraps both hands around the proud shaft, his teeth closed on his lower lip once more as he arranged his grip to feel out how he might want to approach it. Max was so much bigger than him in every respect, he was going to have to learn how best to work it over. As he does, it's clear that he's enjoying the process of learning this just as much as the way Max had touched him before.

"Heh," Max says, wheezing out of his nose, "This is why people usually need to work up to, uh... me." He used to be a lot more self-conscious about that, but these days he's owning it completely. That doesn't mean he isn't very conscious of limitations. It's going to be a hot minute before he lets Bart try to take the whole hog.

But this--hands wrapped around him, exploring and testing--feels fantastic. He's really starting to think there's a kink buried in here somewhere that he's touching on.

"I like that," he groans, as he goes back to exploring Bart at the same time. His thumb skims along the tip of Bart's head, like he's trying to make a crystal glass sing. He's always loved that sensation, so he's hoping Bart will too.

One thing is becoming increasingly certain the longer they work together on this: Bart would certainly be willing to indulge him in that kink as he figured some things out for himself.

The passing of Max's thumb around the soft, sensitive flesh makes Bart suck in his stomach, core tightening and lower body trembling subtly at the touch. He mimics the motion with one hand, using thumb and fingers to stroke around the outside then pass over the divot and follow it down over the frenulum to learn and map out where Max might most like to be touched. His ministrations are gentle and pinpoint, where Max envelops him utterly.

"Good, that's good," he breathes, and leans his head forward against Max's chest with his eyes unfocused.

"Mmm," he purrs, "Yeah, it feels good. I loooove that. Right on the underside below my head," his cock twitches in Bart's hands, pulsing with each touch, and even more when Bart's head leans forward.

"I like making you feel good," he whispers against Bart's ear, then he lightly nips the shell of it with his teeth. "I want you to enjoy it all as much as you want to. You look so good like this."

Bart's thumb strokes in gentle passes along the bunched, taut skin and back up along the slit, then back down again. His hands remain wrapped around Max, giving his shaft a kneading massage in time with the twitch that his hips want to do up into the other's hand.

With his lip pulled into his mouth, he groans softly and trembles, his legs tightening and shifting on the countertop, his toes curling.

"I am, I very much am," he replies quickly, before he cranes his neck upward and tucks his face against the soft, prickly underside of Max's jaw. He wants the closeness, and moves to surround himself in it.

At the same time, one of his hands moves downward again toward the base of Max's cock, and his thumb wraps around his own, coming to press his smaller member against the one he continues to enthusiastically toy with.

"Forgive me my eagerness," he pants against the front of Max's throat.

"Nothing wrong with that," Max husks, his voice heavy and low with the weight of his own desire as he maneuvers his hand until he's stroking the length of both of them at once right alongside Bart. "Forgive me for wanting to stoke your eagerness even harder." His hands move a little more aggressively with the up down beat of 'hard-er.' He wants nothing more than to keep Bart squirming, keep his toes curling until he can't hold back anymore. But, oh, if Bart only knew how much Max is holding himself back.

The tickle of Bart's breath on his neck promises more. He can't resist anymore, he'll beg if he must. "B-Bart, please, put your mouth on my neck right there. I... I love how that feels. I love... teeth."

Bart breathes a soft laugh at Max reassuring him that his enthusiasm is worthwhile. It stutters and chokes at that squeeze, and it's a very close thing that he doesn't spill over right then and there. His words are already failing him, and the moment Max urges him to open up and maybe even bite a little, he can't help but do exactly as directed.

At the same time that his mouth opens wider and his head tips back to allow him to scrape his teeth up to just under Max's chin, his orgasm hits him, and he groans breathlessly against the man's throat. His legs tense and tighten on either side of Max's hips, toes curling and body shuddering. His hands likewise tighten and press them both together all the harder as the long pent-up frustration finally snaps. He whines with it, and realizes with some shame that he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Yess," Max hisses, both at the scrape of teeth and to encourage Bart onward and upward. "Yesssss" he groans louder as Bart tenses and writhes.

Max's hands move faster, just a little more friction, a little more..."FFFffffuck," he cries as he spills over, too, knees quivering as he rides it out, only to come up panting as the tide of pleasure finally begins to recede back.

He's keenly aware, still, that Bart is looking to him for guidance. So, as soon as he catches his breath, he tilts down to look. It's then that he catches the first gathering of tears.

"Bart," Max says gently, while he cradles the man close and presses kisses to the top of his head. "It's okay. You can let it all out. You're safe with me."

Bart's face burns bright red at the volume of Max's voice. He pants harshly for a few good seconds, until he feels that comforting pressure against the top of his head. His eyes squeeze shut tight as he tries to regain some control over himself.

"It's...it's nothing...Just feeling a lot just now," he explains, voice muffled against Max's chest. "You know this is...a first for me..."

"It is a lot," he soothes. "I remember my first time, and it was intense. I just want you to know that it's okay to need a minute to feel it all out. You're being completely normal right now."

Bart nods, eyes still closed as he lets himself relax and shiver through the subtle aftershocks. It's such a vulnerable feeling, but here, like this, he feels more relief for it than anything else.

"You know...I had such romantic notions about what the first time would be like... Who it would be with, that it would maybe be at home in my bed, or perhaps outside, in the sunshine with a nice breeze and a picnic blanket..." He's quiet as he ponders it all. "This was a spur of the moment decision. I'm glad I made it." He looks back up, smiling softly as he reaches a hand up and cranes for a kiss, before making to ease off of the counter. He's covered in flour, after all, and he thinks he must look ridiculous.

Any small signs of fretting smoothes away when Bart says he's glad he chose this, and Max finds he's suddenly choking back some of his own tears. He meets Bart's kiss with tenderness and passion. He's glad, too, that he could bring such a good experience to Bart, one he hopes the man can look back to with only joy. And, maybe look forward to a few more joys, too.

As he comes down off the counter, Max giggles and swipes a finger over his back to pick up some of the flour. "And that," he says, all smiles, "is how you know it was a fun time, when you come up dirty, heh. You're all kneaded up and ready for the oven, aren't you?" Actually, he's probably ready to eat his dessert but, the metaphor is fun.

At the absolute least, this had been a great idea for his birthday, and Bart is grateful. He doesn't look quite as shy as he had previously, though he is keenly aware that he still needs to put his clothes back in order. He does at least pull things straight while letting himself be dusted off.

"I definitely think it's time to rest," he replies bashfully, reaching for a rag to wet and try to get some of the traces of flour off of himself. A glance behind him sends the blush shooting right back up to his ears, when he spots an obvious print of his backside on the edge of the counter. It may not have been completely naked, but it's still a clear impression.

His head leans against Max's chest as he laughs. "I think perhaps we can check in on the pastry now. I might have worked up a bit of an appetite."

He titters like a chirping bird at that joke. (Silly Max, of course the dough needs to rest first ;3)

Still giggling, he forms a square with his fingers and thumb around that beautiful butt-print on the table. "Wish I could frame that for you to take home." But, alas, as fun as it is, Max will have to wipe it down in a moment. First, he rescues his pants from around his ankles, shaking the flour out of them best he can before fastening the buttons.

"Yeah," he chuckles, hugging Bart close, "I'll say you did. Wait right here? I want to go get a candle."

Bart drops his head onto Max's chest with a theatrical groan, hands over his face before he goes to wash them. Even if this is still only for his own consumption, he wants to be clean about it!

"Candle?" He blinks, then remembers himself and laughs quietly. "Oh, you don't have to do that, the pastry and the experience is celebration enough."

By the time Bart returns, Max has the counter back in order and the pastry once more front and center.

"Okay, that's fair." He says, bringing up a knife so he can slice it and add finishing touches before shifting it in front of Bart.

"I wish you a very happy birthday, and many more."

"I hope you can be at the next one, and the next after that," Bart replies as he straightens the counter and cleans away the used dishes to wash when they've shared in his treat. He takes a small fork full and lifts it so that Max can taste his hard work. "Thank you again, Max."

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In Which The Boy Realizes He Has Aged

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