Leave me things or request a starter ★ Slow Tagging ★ I'm bad at sexting ★ Picture Prompt Generators: m/m or f/m ★ kink list but tbh just ask ★ potential tw: underage, drugs, childhood trauma, mental illness, please warn in subject headers ★ in-game/AU continuity optional
[ He says, or maybe grunts, an immediate and reflexive response, but then his mind (so effectively distracted by the feeling of fullness and intrusion, strung out on pleasure and humiliation and the need to concentrate on all the good places he's being hurt.) ]
Wait, fuck it, yes.
[ This is transactional enough to parallel sex work even if it's not money they're swapping here, and maybe he should have better boundaries instead of risking all the violin-swell memories of all the other boys he's kissed, or one particular boy he kissed a lot, all the different kinds of kisses and—
Realizing that's confusing, he figures to be proactive and pulls Janus forward, bitten fingernails blunt at the back of their neck, his mouth opening with the same easy softness that it had for their dick earlier. Unlike with the blowjob, he isn't careful with his teeth. ]
[lips, teeth. it's a glorious crush of mouth. they feel the cigarette acridity of his breath mingle with their own, the slick-coarse scrape of his incisors, the scuff of his chin. it's a hot flush of triumph that moves through them, when they feel his body surge up to meet theirs and
they'd had sex out of the context of relationships before-- really, all the sex they've ever had has been deficient of that context. but still, they've never felt like they had the right to treat somebody's body with this rough abandon, finding a home for their tongue and their cock in the wet resistance of another. their fingers scrape and catch on the small gaps between wall tiles. they have to try, to really try not to smile.
and after that, it's a fast, rutting rhythm. sweat seams in between their shoulderblades, the heat of biological friction staving off the chill of the restroom. they paw at his nipples under his shirt, the smear of hair along his skinny thigh. lust coils a fond ache in their gut.
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no subject
No,
[ He says, or maybe grunts, an immediate and reflexive response, but then his mind (so effectively distracted by the feeling of fullness and intrusion, strung out on pleasure and humiliation and the need to concentrate on all the good places he's being hurt.) ]
Wait, fuck it, yes.
[ This is transactional enough to parallel sex work even if it's not money they're swapping here, and maybe he should have better boundaries instead of risking all the violin-swell memories of all the other boys he's kissed, or one particular boy he kissed a lot, all the different kinds of kisses and—
Realizing that's confusing, he figures to be proactive and pulls Janus forward, bitten fingernails blunt at the back of their neck, his mouth opening with the same easy softness that it had for their dick earlier. Unlike with the blowjob, he isn't careful with his teeth. ]
no subject
they'd had sex out of the context of relationships before-- really, all the sex they've ever had has been deficient of that context. but still, they've never felt like they had the right to treat somebody's body with this rough abandon, finding a home for their tongue and their cock in the wet resistance of another. their fingers scrape and catch on the small gaps between wall tiles. they have to try, to really try not to smile.
and after that, it's a fast, rutting rhythm. sweat seams in between their shoulderblades, the heat of biological friction staving off the chill of the restroom. they paw at his nipples under his shirt, the smear of hair along his skinny thigh. lust coils a fond ache in their gut.
if life were only this, life would be good.]