[ this should be the easiest thing in the world. it's the most familiar, to be sure — falling into a random but willing pair of arms, the push and pull, the give and take. sex is easy. or at least sex was easy before he met ash, before that tenuous door inside of him had been unlocked, before he realized just how much he wanted and needed. now his string of meaningless fucks are the joyless, desperate search of a hollow, ruined man. he thought, stupidly, that coming here might reignite something, might shove some broken piece of him back into place, but instead he has a greer lookalike pressed against his body and ash tormenting his mind.
and hawk across the room, watching it all. resentment abruptly wells in him like a freshly bleeding cut. hawk had fucked him when he was just like this, once, years ago. same song, different refrain. still pathetic.
he untangles himself from the girl, his dick throbbing in his trousers, feeling restless and spent all at once. she gets the hint, casting him an almost pitying glance before leaving the room in a haze of gold, and embry's chest tightens at how much she looks like greer in that moment, proud and strong and so perfectly able to follow instructions — everything suited to ash's tastes, and everything embry failed to be.
he stumbles to the bed and drops onto the pillows in a miserable heap, his liquor-guzzling abruptly hitting him. he feels too warm, his clothes trapping heat against his flushed skin, and when he slides his hand into his trousers to wrap around his cock, he finds his fingers slick with pearly wetness leaking from his tip.
maybe there's something about being drunk and sad that makes him horny. ]
You're gonna have to tell me your type. [ he watches the smoke curl from hawk's lips with a shameless stroke of his hand. ] My type is everyone. Life's easy for me.
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and hawk across the room, watching it all. resentment abruptly wells in him like a freshly bleeding cut. hawk had fucked him when he was just like this, once, years ago. same song, different refrain. still pathetic.
he untangles himself from the girl, his dick throbbing in his trousers, feeling restless and spent all at once. she gets the hint, casting him an almost pitying glance before leaving the room in a haze of gold, and embry's chest tightens at how much she looks like greer in that moment, proud and strong and so perfectly able to follow instructions — everything suited to ash's tastes, and everything embry failed to be.
he stumbles to the bed and drops onto the pillows in a miserable heap, his liquor-guzzling abruptly hitting him. he feels too warm, his clothes trapping heat against his flushed skin, and when he slides his hand into his trousers to wrap around his cock, he finds his fingers slick with pearly wetness leaking from his tip.
maybe there's something about being drunk and sad that makes him horny. ]
You're gonna have to tell me your type. [ he watches the smoke curl from hawk's lips with a shameless stroke of his hand. ] My type is everyone. Life's easy for me.