If it was that bad idea, Wash could ride top and Maine could lay back, if he was so worried about it. There were ways. There were ideas. There were avenues they could take, and every time he said it was a terrible idea, Maine just wanted to prove him wrong.
Consider it competitive, consider it simply hating to be told what he shouldn't do.
And the way Wash cursed that, the way Jesus, Maine dropped from his lips, it made him roll those balls again, cupping them, running his thumb along them. He wanted to hear him again, wanted him to be loud enough for the both of them, wanted Wash to stop talking about what a terrible idea this was and just enjoy it. He knew what risks he was taking, and he still didn't care.
But then he felt that seeking hand under his pants, could feel the fabric tightening around his cock as the hand squeezed him, and the sharp pleasurable sensation ran throughout him. His hand stopped for a moment because everything did; in the few weeks of nothing, he had forgotten how good this could feel. Fuck, Wash!
The noise in his throat rumbled, loud, long before he moved his hand back up to the length of Wash's cock and started to stroke it again, base to tip and back down again. He moved his head down a little, trying to catch Wash's neck, biting at the side of it, careful not to leave marks. The last thing either of them needed was the skeptical looks and quiet rumors.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2016-06-09 03:43 pm (UTC)Consider it competitive, consider it simply hating to be told what he shouldn't do.
And the way Wash cursed that, the way Jesus, Maine dropped from his lips, it made him roll those balls again, cupping them, running his thumb along them. He wanted to hear him again, wanted him to be loud enough for the both of them, wanted Wash to stop talking about what a terrible idea this was and just enjoy it. He knew what risks he was taking, and he still didn't care.
But then he felt that seeking hand under his pants, could feel the fabric tightening around his cock as the hand squeezed him, and the sharp pleasurable sensation ran throughout him. His hand stopped for a moment because everything did; in the few weeks of nothing, he had forgotten how good this could feel. Fuck, Wash!
The noise in his throat rumbled, loud, long before he moved his hand back up to the length of Wash's cock and started to stroke it again, base to tip and back down again. He moved his head down a little, trying to catch Wash's neck, biting at the side of it, careful not to leave marks. The last thing either of them needed was the skeptical looks and quiet rumors.