( it would be better if he could separate--if he could snarl at him for that tease, because yes, obviously it's there, obviously that's what he wants, what he's asking for, and esi's teasing him the same way that he's always teased him, in these situations; it would be better if he could drag his mouth away, if he could find some solace in berating him. but there's not enough breath for that, when it's shared between them--and he doesn't have the effort or the drive or the resolve to tear himself further away. trapped in this cloying heat between them, he feels like he can really feel something, now, his nerves alight, the tension between them forcing his body to curl and clench.
it would be better if he could just flatten himself to the mattress and ride it all out. but esi's on top of him, esi's touching him, esi's inside of him, and he can't rid himself of that feeling, either, or the fact that he's pressing in deeper, guiding himself in more and more, taking him in with deeper strokes. it doesn't even register, when esi finally orgasms, until he can feel the heat there: until he can feel his own body clenching in answer, teeth locked together, his voice a quiet, strained sound of desperation.
it feels so stupid, doesn't it? so cliche. but his head rocks back into the mattress, and fuck cliches, anyway, esi won't care: his hips press down, riding in against that feeling of him, his own orgasm taking him in quick lances of pleasure, his hips rolling to ride them out as the mess of feeling spills between them, sticky and warm against his own stomach. )
Fuck... ( panting, trembling, swallowing--he tries to find himself in all the warmth but can't, can't push esi off or even make up the excuse that he wants to. oddly, it feels good like this; oddly, he can't feel that tangled knot in his stomach anymore. )
Did it...? ( he has no idea if it worked. shouldn't mister magic know, here? )
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it would be better if he could just flatten himself to the mattress and ride it all out. but esi's on top of him, esi's touching him, esi's inside of him, and he can't rid himself of that feeling, either, or the fact that he's pressing in deeper, guiding himself in more and more, taking him in with deeper strokes. it doesn't even register, when esi finally orgasms, until he can feel the heat there: until he can feel his own body clenching in answer, teeth locked together, his voice a quiet, strained sound of desperation.
it feels so stupid, doesn't it? so cliche. but his head rocks back into the mattress, and fuck cliches, anyway, esi won't care: his hips press down, riding in against that feeling of him, his own orgasm taking him in quick lances of pleasure, his hips rolling to ride them out as the mess of feeling spills between them, sticky and warm against his own stomach. )
Fuck... ( panting, trembling, swallowing--he tries to find himself in all the warmth but can't, can't push esi off or even make up the excuse that he wants to. oddly, it feels good like this; oddly, he can't feel that tangled knot in his stomach anymore. )
Did it...? ( he has no idea if it worked. shouldn't mister magic know, here? )