and I even misspelled previous. man I suck. ------------------------------------
"Yeah, and you didn't have a picture of your tattooed bare-ass sent to me before either," Butcher grunts, and grinds against Siska's wrist, finding the perfect pushing point. Fuckin' jeans, man, they look good but they are way too thick of a fabric when Butcher's this close to getting off. Wrist-job should be considered a form of explicit sex.
"Ah-ah-ahh," Adam smiles, tsking his tongue lightly and pulling his hand out from between the circle of Butcher's legs. Almost keening in his throat, Andy uncrosses his legs and slides to the front of the table where Sisky stands, and it was his form of pleading.
"Just imagine all the things you could do to my ass," Siska murmurs, touching foreheads but keeping a safe distance from the rest of Butcher's body, which, seriously, is not going over well with Butcher. "You could fuck me face down on the bed, pushing your hand against that one black spot, and I'll have a bruise there until the next time." Butcher's cock jumps at the thought of the 'next time.' He loops his arms around Sisky's neck and crashes their bodies together, falling back on the table as Adam's legs are pulled of the ground.
"Now this is better," Butcher smirks, because he's got Siska resting in between his legs, and it's quite obvious from the way that another hard dick is pressing into his leg, that Siska's enjoying this as much as he is.
He rakes his hands down Adam's sides, subconsciously counting each rib as he bump over them. He catches his fingers on the small t-shirt's hem and tugs it up, leaving Sisky on his knees, shirtless. His pants aren't far behind, and Butcher is already half-way there as he had gone without a shirt, the summer air and cool Cancun breezes feeling naturally good against his skin -- but never as good as this, right here, feels.
"I want you to turn around," Butcher whispers grittily into Sisky's ear, nibbling against his jawline and cheekbone in a way that should be slightly creepy, but instead is very, very appealing.
Siska obeys, kneeling naked in front of Butcher, body pressed low to the table. It seems ridiculous that they're doing this here, no matter how secluded it is -- the buses are just a mere thirty yards away, and the beach is set into a slight cliff over the sand, where anyone could be night-fishing or having a bonfire. But Butcher doesn't care, because he's got a gorgeous naked man sitting in between his legs, his erection pressing into the back of his thigh.
Butcher lets his tongue glide easily over the cursive of the word 'santi', laughing internally at the thought of the tattoo. He was never one to preach that 'you might regret your tattoo when you're older', seeing as he would be a hypocrite, but he's sure that Adam T. Siska would laugh on his death bed, and roll over to pull down his high-waters and show off his tattoo one last time.
Sisky jumps, moaning deeply as a tongue pokes at his tightened circle of muscles, holding in a louder sound with his abdominal muscles flexing wildly. Butcher laughs, which was a little difficult, but causes his to tongue curl up with the action and Siska moans even louder, Butcher smiling viciously. Hands still fixed tightly on Adam's hips to keep him spread, he flexes his tongue into a circle, rolling it upwards against Siska's heat, and said man bucks forward, his back arching into a valley with his head rolling back.
"Shit, I'm getting another tattoo on my dick if this is what you'd do to my ass," Siska moans pitifully. Said dick is feeling extremely ignored at this point, painfully, (painfully) hard and leaning against Butcher's leg easily.
Butcher pulls his head away from Siska's ass, and Adam mews sadly, pushing back. "I...I wanna fuck you," Butcher says aloud, almost like a question to them both.
"Then quit fuckin' talking already," Sisky says into his forearm, closing his eyes as he leans forward, knees protesting with a scrap against the table, but he really, really couldn't care less.
Butcher slides his hands up to pinch at Siska's thin sides, holding him in place while he lines up carefully with his ass. Sisky's vertebrae crack a little as he arches into the burn, the pain that something's going where it shouldn't. "You okay?" Butcher asks, leaning forward and pressing his flushed cheek onto Adam's back, rubbing his sides in a comforting circular motion.
"Yeah, yeah, go," Sisky grunts, leaning into Butcher's cock so that he slips in further, his stomach tightening even more to the point that if it had been any other situation, it would have made him sick.
Butcher pulls out slowly, biting his lip against the tight pressure of Sisky's ass, and then jams their bodies back together, going even further into Siska then before.
"Oh, shit, I think I'm going to -- need you to do this -- every day for the rest of my life," Siska shudders, rocking backwards into Butcher's thrusts, snaking an arm down to wrap around his cock. Butcher's hand slaps his away though, and the rhythm is barely lost as he squeezes Sisky lightly, alternating between pounds into his back and strokes up his cock. Siska can barely concentrate on which stimulation feels better as Butcher's hips are angled upward and he's there -- every muscle in his body clenching together tightly around Butcher and then unwinding like a released spring as he jerks into Butcher's palm and falls limply forward on the table.
"Holy fuck kid," Butcher's panting, sliding carefully out of Siska as he, too, comes, striping white on Sisky's thigh and ass.
"Oh man how soon can I get another tattoo?" Adam asks, light-headed, nuzzling up into Butcher's neck.
------------------------------------
"Yeah, and you didn't have a picture of your tattooed bare-ass sent to me before either," Butcher grunts, and grinds against Siska's wrist, finding the perfect pushing point. Fuckin' jeans, man, they look good but they are way too thick of a fabric when Butcher's this close to getting off. Wrist-job should be considered a form of explicit sex.
"Ah-ah-ahh," Adam smiles, tsking his tongue lightly and pulling his hand out from between the circle of Butcher's legs. Almost keening in his throat, Andy uncrosses his legs and slides to the front of the table where Sisky stands, and it was his form of pleading.
"Just imagine all the things you could do to my ass," Siska murmurs, touching foreheads but keeping a safe distance from the rest of Butcher's body, which, seriously, is not going over well with Butcher. "You could fuck me face down on the bed, pushing your hand against that one black spot, and I'll have a bruise there until the next time." Butcher's cock jumps at the thought of the 'next time.' He loops his arms around Sisky's neck and crashes their bodies together, falling back on the table as Adam's legs are pulled of the ground.
"Now this is better," Butcher smirks, because he's got Siska resting in between his legs, and it's quite obvious from the way that another hard dick is pressing into his leg, that Siska's enjoying this as much as he is.
He rakes his hands down Adam's sides, subconsciously counting each rib as he bump over them. He catches his fingers on the small t-shirt's hem and tugs it up, leaving Sisky on his knees, shirtless. His pants aren't far behind, and Butcher is already half-way there as he had gone without a shirt, the summer air and cool Cancun breezes feeling naturally good against his skin -- but never as good as this, right here, feels.
"I want you to turn around," Butcher whispers grittily into Sisky's ear, nibbling against his jawline and cheekbone in a way that should be slightly creepy, but instead is very, very appealing.
Siska obeys, kneeling naked in front of Butcher, body pressed low to the table. It seems ridiculous that they're doing this here, no matter how secluded it is -- the buses are just a mere thirty yards away, and the beach is set into a slight cliff over the sand, where anyone could be night-fishing or having a bonfire. But Butcher doesn't care, because he's got a gorgeous naked man sitting in between his legs, his erection pressing into the back of his thigh.
Butcher lets his tongue glide easily over the cursive of the word 'santi', laughing internally at the thought of the tattoo. He was never one to preach that 'you might regret your tattoo when you're older', seeing as he would be a hypocrite, but he's sure that Adam T. Siska would laugh on his death bed, and roll over to pull down his high-waters and show off his tattoo one last time.
Sisky jumps, moaning deeply as a tongue pokes at his tightened circle of muscles, holding in a louder sound with his abdominal muscles flexing wildly. Butcher laughs, which was a little difficult, but causes his to tongue curl up with the action and Siska moans even louder, Butcher smiling viciously. Hands still fixed tightly on Adam's hips to keep him spread, he flexes his tongue into a circle, rolling it upwards against Siska's heat, and said man bucks forward, his back arching into a valley with his head rolling back.
"Shit, I'm getting another tattoo on my dick if this is what you'd do to my ass," Siska moans pitifully. Said dick is feeling extremely ignored at this point, painfully, (painfully) hard and leaning against Butcher's leg easily.
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"Then quit fuckin' talking already," Sisky says into his forearm, closing his eyes as he leans forward, knees protesting with a scrap against the table, but he really, really couldn't care less.
Butcher slides his hands up to pinch at Siska's thin sides, holding him in place while he lines up carefully with his ass. Sisky's vertebrae crack a little as he arches into the burn, the pain that something's going where it shouldn't. "You okay?" Butcher asks, leaning forward and pressing his flushed cheek onto Adam's back, rubbing his sides in a comforting circular motion.
"Yeah, yeah, go," Sisky grunts, leaning into Butcher's cock so that he slips in further, his stomach tightening even more to the point that if it had been any other situation, it would have made him sick.
Butcher pulls out slowly, biting his lip against the tight pressure of Sisky's ass, and then jams their bodies back together, going even further into Siska then before.
"Oh, shit, I think I'm going to -- need you to do this -- every day for the rest of my life," Siska shudders, rocking backwards into Butcher's thrusts, snaking an arm down to wrap around his cock. Butcher's hand slaps his away though, and the rhythm is barely lost as he squeezes Sisky lightly, alternating between pounds into his back and strokes up his cock. Siska can barely concentrate on which stimulation feels better as Butcher's hips are angled upward and he's there -- every muscle in his body clenching together tightly around Butcher and then unwinding like a released spring as he jerks into Butcher's palm and falls limply forward on the table.
"Holy fuck kid," Butcher's panting, sliding carefully out of Siska as he, too, comes, striping white on Sisky's thigh and ass.
"Oh man how soon can I get another tattoo?" Adam asks, light-headed, nuzzling up into Butcher's neck.
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