[ koby props himself up on his elbows, changing the angle almost instantly of the way his cock presses inside the tight heat of him and he groans loudly, hand leaving his sopping cunt to grab at his hips, to hike him higher and harder back against him. it gives him enough leverage to lean hard over him, weight against his back, fingers yanking hard at his hair to keep himself balanced as his hips jackrabbit into a needy frenzy.
the sounds of their joining fill the room - wet and sloppy, skin on skin. quentin is so close to cumming himself but it takes a great deal of tightened muscles and will to keep from absolutely blowing it all when koby begins to prattle on and on about feeling his cock where he shouldn't like this.
but there's the disobedient little hand, sneaking down between them where his own was and he growls, leaning to bite hard at koby's shoulder. ]
I won't - you won't get what you - if you keep -
[ he's panting hard against his skin, hand sticky with koby's mess sliding back down and pushing between them, replacing koby's frantic fingers. his thrusts grind to a halt on a deep, throaty groan, his cock pulsing in a way that's begging to be released, but instead he lets koby suffer the consequences of his actions. grinds his hips slowly into him, head of his cock nudging hard against that little sweet spot, finding the shuddering, clenching walls of his cunt absolutely unbearable. ]
You want fingers so bad then?
[ he doesn't touch his clit, no. instead allows his long arm to hook over a hip, their bodies slick with sweat, and presses his fingers against koby's entrance, sliding his fingers to where his cock shifts and grinds into him and presses. just the tip of a finger, stretching him carefully, nothing more. ]
That what you're after, love? [ a hoarse laugh, his fingers giving a last little tug on his hair before leaving, using koby's body as his stabilizer, his newly freed hand reaching to circle his clit once, twice. ]
[God, he’s so close, he’s clutching at the sheets and arching back into every deep, punishing thrust and he’s going to feel this tomorrow in a thousand different ways, the fucked-out, weary, delicious exhaustion that lingers into the next day, and when Quentin bites him, Koby almost comes right then and there, whining open-mouthed and going tight and shivery around the cock inside him – so much for remaining demure about the marks, about being bitten, because the press of Quentin’s teeth into his overheated skin is deliriously good and then –
– and then he slows, he stops and Koby makes a sound halfway between a gasp and a growl, hand jerking away too late, too slow, because he’s been caught disobeying and must suffer the consequences. And he knows it, whining pathetically and glaring over his shoulder, a mutinous pout on his face as he fists both hands in the sheets too late, too little.] That’s not f-fair, I was almos– [But then Quentin’s shifting inside him, pressing deeper, gliding his fingers through the slick, dripping mess and Koby’s words cut off in a shivery gasp at the press of one inside, just slightly, just the subtle shift of pressure that sends a jolt up his spine.
And suddenly all the fight is gone, all the scowling brattiness, and everything is molten hot and liquid fire inside Koby’s body, in the shivering, shuddering grip of his cunt around Quentin’s cock, Quentin’s finger, and his stomach goes tight and his breath shudders in and in and in, and there’s the tease of one finger at his clit, the ghost of a circle that makes Koby jerk and whimper brokenly and gush around Quentin’s cock inside him, everything white heat and light and he’s only barely conscious of himself choking out:] Y-Yeah, yes, yes, yes, please–
[ koby's body goes pliant and warm and desperate, his words becoming a litany of nothing more than desperate agreement. it's intoxicating, grinding his hips hard down into him, feeling the way his walls clench around him, the way his own dick hurts for the way he's holding back, just barely.
and koby goes utterly wet around him, hot and sticky and drenching the sheets and something about it is so wildly fucking hot he cannot think straight. he cannot deny this precious, wonderful man a single thing. he leans hard and heavy against koby's back, begins to finish thrusting hard to the point the slapping of their skin is almost louder than their moans, his fingers working desperate circles around his swollen clit.
his hand slicked by koby's need goes back to koby's hair, gripping hard as one more thrust brings him to his hot release, hips stuttering, filling koby up hot and full, his cock twitching desperately and a low growl coming out against koby's nape. ]
So good - you - the sea took you, brought you to me - [ a panting little laugh, his whole body twitching and burning from the orgasm, hips grinding still through his own to bring koby to an even higher peak in his once he crests over the wave. ]
The way I wanna taste you right now... you're so perfect.
[Part of Koby wants it to go on forever, wants the dizzying, aching, wonderful heat plunging inside him over and over and over for hours – wants to beg Quentin to keep him on edge for hours, keep him wet and wanting and ready and pleading. But the messages, the photos, Koby’s own fingers working himself open to both, the frustration seared away by Quentin’s chest pressed to his back, Quentin’s fingers replacing his own, Quentin’s cock inside him – there was no way he could’ve held on that long.
Besides, Quentin gives him what he wants, what he’s begged for, what he’s vaguely aware he’s getting accustomed (addicted) to – the heat, the release, the sense of Quentin filling him up, cock pulsing inside his clenching, dripping cunt. And Koby is gone, he’s gone from that alone, the tormenting bliss of Quentin’s fingers at his throbbing clit just keeping him there, thighs shuddering, breath coming in gasping, whimpering, sharp sounds. And everything is heat and light and bliss and Koby coming so hard he sobs and clutches at the sheets and moans Quentin’s name loud enough that they can probably hear it in the dining room.
Somewhere, he’s aware of how soaked he is, how the angle of Quentin taking him from behind and the relentless pressure circling around his clit had his climax accompanied by a release he’s never felt before, and Koby whimpers shakily, hazily, one hand slipping down to feel the ticklish trickle of Quentin’s cum and his own dripping down his thighs. A breathless sound, half-laugh, half-moan, and he doesn’t think, just presses his slick fingers into his own mouth, sucks them clean, his own taste and Quentin’s coating his tongue as he turns, reaches, tangles his fingers in dark curls and tugs the other man closer to kiss him, to share the sweet-salty-tang.]
There. [Breathless, between the press of his tongue to Quentin's, between shuddery breaths, whole body liquid and shivery.] G-Good? [Monosyllables is about all he can manage, still riding the aftershocks, the continued throb of his cunt around Quentin's cock, hips shifting slightly to keep him buried inside. The sheets are soaked, but it's a big bed, and Koby doesn't mind where they go, where they rest long enough for round two, as long as Quentin doesn't let go of him.]
[ koby is perfect in all ways, their bodies heavy and burning together, his cock aching and twitching against every pulse of koby's dripping cunt. but the kiss is what does it, makes him moan heavy and low into the other man's mouth, chasing the taste of them and chasing for more even though he's molded and pressed against koby's back.
he wants to face him, wants to devour him again already even though his own body is wracked with sensitivity. it doesn't stop him though, from dragging away, chest pressed against the other's back, but his dick slips free. it's short lived, what for the way quentin reaches and encourages koby onto his his back. he can't be away from him long, refuses to, and slots himself between koby's thighs again, nudging inside him again, feeling the wet rush of where they meet and humming low.
the sheets are soaked beneath them, their bodies sweaty and sticky, but it changes nothing about the way he kisses koby, slow and deep, licking languidly into his mouth and chasing the taste of him on the boy's tongue. he slides one arm under koby's head, pillowing it against his forearm so his fingers can tangle in his hair again, the other braced on the bed so that he can grind his hips down against koby once again. ]
So good.
[ he breathes against koby's mouth, nudging their noses together and chasing little kisses over his lips. ] Wanted to see your face. [ a little breathless still, hazy in the afterglow and the simmering burn of more. ]
[Predictably, there is a soft, whining sound of protest when Quentin pulls back, when his cock slips free -- not yet, not enough, not done yet -- but then Koby's being nudged to his back, and he lets his shaky, trembling legs give, heedless of the damp cling of the sheets to his back, his thighs, spreading them wide, eagerly. He grabs at Quentin, clumsily, tugs him closer and kisses over his cheek, his nose, lips parting on a moan against the corner of his mouth when he nudges back inside, settles between Koby's quivery thighs like he was made to be there. Sensitive, breathless, he opens his mouth to each languid, lazy kiss, smiles into them, half-expecting Quentin to settle heavy and warm against him.
But he shifts, he moves, still hard enough inside Koby that his oversensitive body pulses, clenches, drips onto the soaked sheets, and one shift of his hips has him gasping, shuddering, back arching up, seeking that angle again. Quentin's -- not done yet, not quite, the texting and the heated coupling of moments before not enough. The realization makes Koby laugh breathlessly, arms up around Quentin's neck, holding him close enough that the gently, rhythmic grind of his hips hits just right, stirs that slow-glowing ember of pleasure back up towards a flame.]
You m-missed me? [Still a little slurred, still trembly with aftershocks, fingers seeking out the sweat-slick curls at the back of Quentin's neck, tangling into them, chest hitching at the slowly-building sparks of pleasure.] M'right here. Not going anywhere. [It's the endorphins -- a word Koby knows now from a few too many biology books, from reading and studying pleasure and sex like it can somehow explain what happens when he's spread out in the sheets, when he feels hands on his body, on all the places he believed nobody would ever want, when this man kisses him. It hasn't, yet -- but his face is raw in it's pure adoration, in the worshipful way his free hand comes to cradle the side of Quentin's face.] I'm not going anywhere.
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no subject
the sounds of their joining fill the room - wet and sloppy, skin on skin. quentin is so close to cumming himself but it takes a great deal of tightened muscles and will to keep from absolutely blowing it all when koby begins to prattle on and on about feeling his cock where he shouldn't like this.
but there's the disobedient little hand, sneaking down between them where his own was and he growls, leaning to bite hard at koby's shoulder. ]
I won't - you won't get what you - if you keep -
[ he's panting hard against his skin, hand sticky with koby's mess sliding back down and pushing between them, replacing koby's frantic fingers. his thrusts grind to a halt on a deep, throaty groan, his cock pulsing in a way that's begging to be released, but instead he lets koby suffer the consequences of his actions. grinds his hips slowly into him, head of his cock nudging hard against that little sweet spot, finding the shuddering, clenching walls of his cunt absolutely unbearable. ]
You want fingers so bad then?
[ he doesn't touch his clit, no. instead allows his long arm to hook over a hip, their bodies slick with sweat, and presses his fingers against koby's entrance, sliding his fingers to where his cock shifts and grinds into him and presses. just the tip of a finger, stretching him carefully, nothing more. ]
That what you're after, love? [ a hoarse laugh, his fingers giving a last little tug on his hair before leaving, using koby's body as his stabilizer, his newly freed hand reaching to circle his clit once, twice. ]
What was it you wanted?
no subject
– and then he slows, he stops and Koby makes a sound halfway between a gasp and a growl, hand jerking away too late, too slow, because he’s been caught disobeying and must suffer the consequences. And he knows it, whining pathetically and glaring over his shoulder, a mutinous pout on his face as he fists both hands in the sheets too late, too little.] That’s not f-fair, I was almos– [But then Quentin’s shifting inside him, pressing deeper, gliding his fingers through the slick, dripping mess and Koby’s words cut off in a shivery gasp at the press of one inside, just slightly, just the subtle shift of pressure that sends a jolt up his spine.
And suddenly all the fight is gone, all the scowling brattiness, and everything is molten hot and liquid fire inside Koby’s body, in the shivering, shuddering grip of his cunt around Quentin’s cock, Quentin’s finger, and his stomach goes tight and his breath shudders in and in and in, and there’s the tease of one finger at his clit, the ghost of a circle that makes Koby jerk and whimper brokenly and gush around Quentin’s cock inside him, everything white heat and light and he’s only barely conscious of himself choking out:] Y-Yeah, yes, yes, yes, please–
no subject
and koby goes utterly wet around him, hot and sticky and drenching the sheets and something about it is so wildly fucking hot he cannot think straight. he cannot deny this precious, wonderful man a single thing. he leans hard and heavy against koby's back, begins to finish thrusting hard to the point the slapping of their skin is almost louder than their moans, his fingers working desperate circles around his swollen clit.
his hand slicked by koby's need goes back to koby's hair, gripping hard as one more thrust brings him to his hot release, hips stuttering, filling koby up hot and full, his cock twitching desperately and a low growl coming out against koby's nape. ]
So good - you - the sea took you, brought you to me - [ a panting little laugh, his whole body twitching and burning from the orgasm, hips grinding still through his own to bring koby to an even higher peak in his once he crests over the wave. ]
The way I wanna taste you right now... you're so perfect.
no subject
Besides, Quentin gives him what he wants, what he’s begged for, what he’s vaguely aware he’s getting accustomed (addicted) to – the heat, the release, the sense of Quentin filling him up, cock pulsing inside his clenching, dripping cunt. And Koby is gone, he’s gone from that alone, the tormenting bliss of Quentin’s fingers at his throbbing clit just keeping him there, thighs shuddering, breath coming in gasping, whimpering, sharp sounds. And everything is heat and light and bliss and Koby coming so hard he sobs and clutches at the sheets and moans Quentin’s name loud enough that they can probably hear it in the dining room.
Somewhere, he’s aware of how soaked he is, how the angle of Quentin taking him from behind and the relentless pressure circling around his clit had his climax accompanied by a release he’s never felt before, and Koby whimpers shakily, hazily, one hand slipping down to feel the ticklish trickle of Quentin’s cum and his own dripping down his thighs. A breathless sound, half-laugh, half-moan, and he doesn’t think, just presses his slick fingers into his own mouth, sucks them clean, his own taste and Quentin’s coating his tongue as he turns, reaches, tangles his fingers in dark curls and tugs the other man closer to kiss him, to share the sweet-salty-tang.]
There. [Breathless, between the press of his tongue to Quentin's, between shuddery breaths, whole body liquid and shivery.] G-Good? [Monosyllables is about all he can manage, still riding the aftershocks, the continued throb of his cunt around Quentin's cock, hips shifting slightly to keep him buried inside. The sheets are soaked, but it's a big bed, and Koby doesn't mind where they go, where they rest long enough for round two, as long as Quentin doesn't let go of him.]
no subject
he wants to face him, wants to devour him again already even though his own body is wracked with sensitivity. it doesn't stop him though, from dragging away, chest pressed against the other's back, but his dick slips free. it's short lived, what for the way quentin reaches and encourages koby onto his his back. he can't be away from him long, refuses to, and slots himself between koby's thighs again, nudging inside him again, feeling the wet rush of where they meet and humming low.
the sheets are soaked beneath them, their bodies sweaty and sticky, but it changes nothing about the way he kisses koby, slow and deep, licking languidly into his mouth and chasing the taste of him on the boy's tongue. he slides one arm under koby's head, pillowing it against his forearm so his fingers can tangle in his hair again, the other braced on the bed so that he can grind his hips down against koby once again. ]
So good.
[ he breathes against koby's mouth, nudging their noses together and chasing little kisses over his lips. ] Wanted to see your face. [ a little breathless still, hazy in the afterglow and the simmering burn of more. ]
Missed you.
no subject
But he shifts, he moves, still hard enough inside Koby that his oversensitive body pulses, clenches, drips onto the soaked sheets, and one shift of his hips has him gasping, shuddering, back arching up, seeking that angle again. Quentin's -- not done yet, not quite, the texting and the heated coupling of moments before not enough. The realization makes Koby laugh breathlessly, arms up around Quentin's neck, holding him close enough that the gently, rhythmic grind of his hips hits just right, stirs that slow-glowing ember of pleasure back up towards a flame.]
You m-missed me? [Still a little slurred, still trembly with aftershocks, fingers seeking out the sweat-slick curls at the back of Quentin's neck, tangling into them, chest hitching at the slowly-building sparks of pleasure.] M'right here. Not going anywhere. [It's the endorphins -- a word Koby knows now from a few too many biology books, from reading and studying pleasure and sex like it can somehow explain what happens when he's spread out in the sheets, when he feels hands on his body, on all the places he believed nobody would ever want, when this man kisses him. It hasn't, yet -- but his face is raw in it's pure adoration, in the worshipful way his free hand comes to cradle the side of Quentin's face.] I'm not going anywhere.