[what he wouldn't give to be able to murmur husky encouragement against his neck or licking hot against the shell of his hear. maybe he'd lift an arm and bury himself in the musky scent of sweat and sex and the pheromones that make skippy uniquely irresistible. hawk's never been one for any form of aftercare - god no, but watching him come down makes something pull in his chest and break loose inexplicably. that same urge to run his hands through his hair, to caress a cheek and tell him what a good boy he was over and over until his breathing stilled and he settled into a sweet slumber. in fact - ]
A lot. Best one I've had since I saw you last. And you are - don't second guess yourself, Skippy.
[why is he doing this? feeding into it? fuck. hawk finally pauses to wipe off his hands and dig through the drawer in his desk for the half-empty pack of cigarettes, fishing out a spare lighter while his other one is across the room in his folded slacks. the first inhale burns against his throat and lungs, a burst of flavor as he tips his head back and exhales back into control. tempting as it is, he's not gonna go for another round. this is about leaving skippy boneless and unofficially making his mark. skippy wants to be his best boy? well, maybe hawk wants to be the best - interaction he's got on this hellsite.
he tips his chair back, chin up appraisingly as he takes another drag and watches a plume of smoke caress against the screen - parting almost as nicely as the way his boy's reddened, not-nearly-abused-enough hole winks at him from however many miles away.]
Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Tell me how it feels, and don't skimp on the details. Too much? Is your dick as sensitive as I know your chest is when you get like this?
[it's gotta be at least sixty-five percent post-nut clarity, as the kids these days say that has hawk shifting only slightly uncomfortably at the endearment of skippy's admission. i never want you to be done with me. if this was anyone he ever followed home, he'd have his zipper up and hat pulled down before the cum even dried.
but one look at that pretty mouth, glisten of sweat across abs that look like they were fucking carved out of stone - yeah, he's a goner. what the hell, it's not the same thing. not a real commitment.]
Lotta questions out of you tonight. This an interrogation I didn't know about? But fine - it's bigger. I'd alternate between the two until you were teetering on the edge, balls ready to burst. You'd be begging me, delirious with it - say anything I want.
[that's what he'd do. normally. inhale. exhale. bright orange glimmer and a wash of gray in front of so much flushed skin. hawk feels like he's burning up from the inside out watching him, wanting him in a way that hasn't felt this intense since - things he won't revisit.]
And you wanna know a secret, Skippy? You wouldn't really have to beg. Watching you fall apart is the highlight of my day. Maybe even my whole goddamn year.
no subject
[what he wouldn't give to be able to murmur husky encouragement against his neck or licking hot against the shell of his hear. maybe he'd lift an arm and bury himself in the musky scent of sweat and sex and the pheromones that make skippy uniquely irresistible. hawk's never been one for any form of aftercare - god no, but watching him come down makes something pull in his chest and break loose inexplicably. that same urge to run his hands through his hair, to caress a cheek and tell him what a good boy he was over and over until his breathing stilled and he settled into a sweet slumber. in fact - ]
A lot. Best one I've had since I saw you last. And you are - don't second guess yourself, Skippy.
[why is he doing this? feeding into it? fuck. hawk finally pauses to wipe off his hands and dig through the drawer in his desk for the half-empty pack of cigarettes, fishing out a spare lighter while his other one is across the room in his folded slacks. the first inhale burns against his throat and lungs, a burst of flavor as he tips his head back and exhales back into control. tempting as it is, he's not gonna go for another round. this is about leaving skippy boneless and unofficially making his mark. skippy wants to be his best boy? well, maybe hawk wants to be the best - interaction he's got on this hellsite.
he tips his chair back, chin up appraisingly as he takes another drag and watches a plume of smoke caress against the screen - parting almost as nicely as the way his boy's reddened, not-nearly-abused-enough hole winks at him from however many miles away.]
Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.
Tell me how it feels, and don't skimp on the details. Too much? Is your dick as sensitive as I know your chest is when you get like this?
[it's gotta be at least sixty-five percent post-nut clarity, as the kids these days say that has hawk shifting only slightly uncomfortably at the endearment of skippy's admission. i never want you to be done with me. if this was anyone he ever followed home, he'd have his zipper up and hat pulled down before the cum even dried.
but one look at that pretty mouth, glisten of sweat across abs that look like they were fucking carved out of stone - yeah, he's a goner. what the hell, it's not the same thing. not a real commitment.]
Lotta questions out of you tonight. This an interrogation I didn't know about?
But fine - it's bigger. I'd alternate between the two until you were teetering on the edge, balls ready to burst. You'd be begging me, delirious with it - say anything I want.
[that's what he'd do. normally. inhale. exhale. bright orange glimmer and a wash of gray in front of so much flushed skin. hawk feels like he's burning up from the inside out watching him, wanting him in a way that hasn't felt this intense since - things he won't revisit.]
And you wanna know a secret, Skippy?
You wouldn't really have to beg.
Watching you fall apart is the highlight of my day. Maybe even my whole goddamn year.