#in memoria

[beholdme]

You know I'm a sucker for some good memoria smut, so anything about that??

If there's anything I can provide, it's Memoria smut, which was so plentiful that I had to take some out.

Here we have a smut that I took out of the prologue, from when Jon goes back to his flat and Martin is waiting for him.

It's under the cut (and it's very explicit, if that wasn't clear)

Martin is waiting for him when he arrives at last. 

Not inside, because he had never bothered to give them keys to a flat they hardly visited, but sitting out in the hallway on the floor, reading a book. He looks content enough, as comfortable as if he were reading at home, except for the slightest pinch of anxiety between his brows. 

Scampering up at Jon's approach, he offers a smile, arms akimbo. "Hi! I, ah–" a nervous laugh, "–I can go. I just wanted to be here in case you needed me. But I can go if you like."

Jon stops in front of him, taking his hand and smiling with the full force of his happiness. "I'm glad you're here." He pulls him closer, slotting their mouths together for a long, appreciative kiss. “I’m so, so glad you’re here, my little sunshine.”

Martin beams, arms wrapping around his neck as Jon crowds him towards his door, pressing him firmly against the wood. Jon tilts Martin’s face up, kissing him with all the enthusiasm and confidence in him, for all the world to see if they should wander on past. He responds greedily, one hand stroking the nape of Jon’s neck as he meets each of his kisses with equal fervour. 

Jon shivers, sinking into the sweet, sunny warmth of him, feeling encompassed for all that he’s the one curled around Martin and crowding him back into the recess of the doorway. 

Martin laughs breathlessly, pulling Jon back with a playful tug of his hair to get a look at him. Jon smiles back, bubbly and jubilant. Martin brings a hand around to cup his face, stroking his cheek, fingers rasping over the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave off this morning. Another kiss, lips brushing together, soft as a caress. 

“Would you like to take this inside?” Martin sounds kiss drunk, the soft look on his face seducing Jon as thoroughly as anything. 

There's some fumbling with keys, Jon’s fingers clumsy with distraction, but he manages to get the door open. The pair of them stumble in, immediately resuming their frantic kissing as the door bangs shut behind them. Jon backs Martin towards the closest available surface, which happens to be his overly sturdy, vintage dining table. It’s a lovely piece he inherited from his Gran, but he chooses not to think of that as he hoists Martin up onto it, making room for himself between his legs. 

Martin wraps them tight about him, cradling Jon between his thighs. Jon makes a needy noise into his mouth as his erection comes flush up against the heat between Martin’s legs, tempting warmth to scramble his already lust-addled brain. He can feel Martin grin, swallows the breathless laugh he emits as Jon rocks against him, trying to crawl inside his skin. 

Pulling back with a growl, Jon narrows his eyes with a playful smirk. “Something funny?”

“Not at–” Martin gasps as Jon bites him, teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder. “–all. Jon!” 

Jon laves his tongue over the bite, sooting it. He presses a kiss there, before leaning back to tug at Martin’s jacket, determined to get it off. “You are much too overdressed for what I have in mind, Mr Blackwood.” 

“Only as much as you are, Mr Sims." Martin recovers his posture, sitting up properly to reach for Jon's trousers with a glint in his eyes to match Jon’s resolve.

Between the desperate give and take of their hands, they're stripped off in record time, clothes scattered around chaotically. They couldn't care less where their shirts end up, though, far more interested in the play of skin on skin as Jon steps back between Martin's legs. He squeezes his thighs, hands savouring the feel of soft skin as he trails up to take a steady grip of his plentiful hips. Jon takes in all the wonderous details of Martin, eyes touching on each freckle that decorates his skin as he considers the contours of his body, from the plushness of his thighs to the flushed line of his neck, over the softness of his belly and the scars that decorate his chest.   

Martin draws his face up, taking another kiss, and then another and another, and Jon gives each one as if his kisses are precious, and he takes each of Martin’s in turn. They wrap themselves up in a blanket of their love and adoration, and then they add their chemistry like a spark, lighting them up with the flush of desire.

Their kisses turn open-mouthed and rough, full of teeth and pleading, and it’s enough to have Jon’s knees trembling. Martin wraps a hand around his dick, thumb brushing over the head, touch too soft to be anything other than teasing. 

He moans, full-bodied and sweet, as Jon strokes his clit with gentle fingers. Exploring downward, he presses a finger inside him, finding him wet and open. Ready for him. 

Martin, the traitor, laughs at the way his cock jumps at this discovery. He sucks Jon’s bottom lip into his mouth, rocking his hips into the finger curled inside of him. Jon adds another, fingers moving with purpose, fingertips rubbing maddeningly into the sweet spot inside of him, his thumb mimicking the pressure on his clit. 

“Jon,” he says it on a long exhale, body falling back to rest over the table as he tightens up, teetering up and up towards a climax. Jon applies himself to kissing the stretch of his neck, mouth open and hot against his skin, tongue teasing at the sensitive place beneath his ear. “Jo-oon,” drawing it out into long syllables, a warning and plea as he comes, clenching tight around his fingers. Wet warmth accompanies it, coating his hand in extra slick. 

“Yes, my love?” Jon leans back, a hand flat on the table to prop him up, a look of cat-like satisfaction on his face as he brings his fingers up to lick them clean. 

Martin’s pupils dilate, a little sobbing noise escaping him as both of his arms come up to grip Jon’s shoulders. “Please fuck me.”

“Right here on the table?” Jon asks, the head of his cock already teasing at his entrance. 

“Or I can push you down on the floor and–” Martin’s head falls back as Jon fills him, mouth gaping open. 

The flush spreads down his chest as Jon starts to move his hips, chasing the warm clutch of him with each thrust. Martin's nails dig into his back and the grip of his legs tightens about his waist, urging him faster and harder to match the frantic beat of their hearts.

“Martin, Martin,” he murmurs, resting his temple against his cheek. Their chests brush together, so much of their bodies pressed hot together, skin damp with sweat. “I don’t even have words to tell you how much I want this. How it makes me feel to be inside you.”

“So don’t use your words, songbird.” Martin shifts, tilting his hips so that Jon’s cock rocks against that glorious place inside of him. “Show me with your body. Show me how it feels to take your pleasure from me, to be the instrument of mine.” 

Jon’s fingers dig into his hips, pace picking up as arousal coils hot and ravenous in the pit of his stomach. Martin clutches at his hair, pulling deliberately, a sharp spike of pain contrasting with the overwhelm of his pleasure. Jon laughs a little, the sound manic and exultant, and then they’re kissing and kissing as they both come, almost together, Martin’s second orgasm sending Jon over the plunging edge into his own. 

[roaminandtumbln]

📍cypress grove cemetery, new orleans, louisiana, u.s.a. 7 july 2022

[emgy805]

boyfail!

[in-memoria-story]

[alessandroiiidimacedonia]

Farewell to the historian Peter Green

Happy Sunday everyone, I’m Elena from Italy and thanks to be here on Alessandro III di Macedonia- your source on Alexander the Great and Hellenism. In a world full of news we can easily access with our smartphones, it surprises me how only one website talks about this sad news. Given the importance of this historian for fans of Alexander the Great and Hellenism, I will tell you about him briefly…

[white-fang-22]

"El dolor físico es molesto, pero el emocional es asfixiante"

-------- Anónimo

[nienteedispeciale]

voglio troppo urlarla ad un concerto

[vnachtfalterv]

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘦

[seguen-sd]

La terapia no es suficiente necesito una pérdida de memoria.

- Seguen Oríah 🍁.

[somos-deseos]

🍂 Fotolibros “En ocasiones vuelvo a visitar viejos recuerdos como si estuviera leyendo un libro”. - Oríah I'llewwynn 🍂.

[commsroom]

you're remembering this wrong. (by @hehearse)

[solxs]

Todos tenemos a 'esa' persona que nos dejó esperando con el corazón en la mano; hay quienes esperan hasta el día de hoy.

Serendipia

[ashdoodle-s]

May this journey lead you…

[amar-y--ya]

Tengo la horrible sensación de que necesito ser bonita para ser amada

[in-memoria-story]

huzzah! an update to chapter 1

[alessandroiiidimacedonia]

Death of Sir John Boardman

Good day I’m Elena and thanks to be here on Alessandro III di Macedonia. Today I’ve a sad news to share with you: two days ago Sir John Boardman, OBE FBA Hon RA, Emeritus Lincoln Professor of Classical Art and Archaeology at the University of Oxford and an Honorary Fellow of the Magdalene College Cambridge for 40 years, passed away. Classical art historian, specialist in Greek pottery. Boardman…