Fade Rift IC: Inbox

[dreadinquisitor]

Notes, crystals, or other bits of interest.

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[dreadinquisitor]

"There was, a joke in there..." His voice shifted, straining roughly as he struggled to chain thoughts and words together, blood rushing through his body and pooling low. Burning against the soft, silken skin teasing so close. "Flowers. Blooming... something something dirty. ...Damned if I can make it now."

His hips moved. He couldn't help himself.

He bit the inside of his cheek to try and drag himself back under control.

"Gavin."

[slipshot]

"Something something dirty," he repeats, teasing, running his tongue over his lips before he turned his head and pressed a slow, teasing kiss to the underside of Maxwell's cock. He breathed him in, tongue slipping out to run itself up his length, to taste the entirely of it before swirling slowly around the edge of the head before he brought it into his mouth, sucking gently.

Yeah, he was taking his time.

[dreadinquisitor]

His heart was pounding so hard his ribs hurt. His knuckles ached. The stone above them was swimming, his senses narrowing down to the one that mattered in the moment. The feel of Gavin's breath, cool and hot by turns. The press of his lips, soft, and then firm as they shifted, molded, opened....

"Gavin."

His name again, rougher, lower, strangling in Maxwell's throat.

He grabbed blindly, hands threading into the wealth of Gavin's coppery hair. Winding them together, holding on.

[slipshot]

His blood and his heart thumped with the sound of his name - it was incredibly erotic, and he made a promise to himself to get Maxwell to say his name like that many, many more times before the night was done. His head pressed up against Maxwell's palms before he sunk down again, sliding his lips painstakingly slowly down the shaft - almost worshipful in its slow deliberation.

Lowly he groaned against his skin, humming against the heated flesh.

[dreadinquisitor]

It was torment. A sharp, sweet pain that set off little flares of light in his eyes; that set an ache in his knuckles, his hands griping so hard. A muscle jerked low in his stomach, hips straining for release, wanting to move... But he willed himself to lay still, to let Gavin's mouth work tortuously down.

He enjoyed the bite, as much as pleasure.

He allowed himself only the small shift of his leg, thigh moving up enough to rub against the underside of Gavin's cock. A flex of hard muscle, pressing and releasing in a smooth, firm stroke.

A little turnabout (wanting to give, wanting Gavin to burn) as his skin shuddered and the head of his cock began to weep.

[slipshot]

Gavin's cheeks hollowed as he began to suck - his tongue swirling around heated flesh and drawing the taste of salt into his mouth.

Maxwell dragged against him and Gavin moaned around Maxwell's cock, eyelids flickering as his body moved back against him - rutting slowly against the man's leg.