Damn, his one weakness. Andrew wasn't good for much, but flattery... It made Warren all glowy inside. It made him want to growl, or fuck, or hit things really hard in pride and ecstasy.
Warren raised himself up one-handed to look down at Andrew's body. Andrew was blushing and cringing and starting to visibly panic. His still-mostly-hard cock twitched, dripping oozily. Huh. That was quicker than he'd expected. Oh well, less work that way.
So, let him suffer a bit longer? The quick breaths and red cheeks were so appealing somehow. But no. Sissy Boy was on the verge of tears, and that could just not end well no matter what.
Warren reached down with his free hand and touched their mixing come lazily. He dragged his finger through it analytically, brought it up to his face to see it closer, then wiped it off on Andrew's tummy.
He squeezed into the gap between Andrew and the couch back and laid on his side to rest. So sleepy. He thumped his arm across Andrew's chest, not caring if it was uncomfortable.
"Anyway, what do I care? Do I need you hard for any reason? Were you planning to bend me over the couch and molest me?"
He scoffed and shook his head, amused. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed his head down, with his mouth squished against Andrew's shoulder. So sleepy.
Andrew lay still, enjoying the weight of Warren on him. It was kind of hard to breathe, and his asthma was starting to kick in, but, really ... who'd complain? Warren was sighing happily and falling asleep on Andrew's chest. Tentatively, he brought his hand up to the back of Warren's head. He felt awkward to be so intimate, like this, but at the same time, so relieved. They'd made each other come. That was like... romantic, right? Closing his eyes tightly, he slowly combed his fingers through Warren's hair and imagined Warren's dreams. Again, what would it be like to be in that brain of his?
Andrew imagined it was a little like being as a god.
Using his undershirt with his other hand, he wiped the mess away on his own stomach. That was their come. That was them, cooling on his skin. Kinda gross. But, you know, sweet. All the same, he wiped it away and pulled his boxers up so it covered his dick. Warren was all tucked in and probably warm, so Andrew tried to cuddle himself closer.
The noise startled him at first, but when he realized it was just Warren snoring a little, he relaxed. Aww. Cute. Snoring. Andrew wondered if all men fell asleep after they came, or if it was just particular to Warren.
Didn't matter, he guessed, because there wouldn't be anyone else. For a second, as Warren shifted in his sleep and gathered Andrew's shirt in his fist, Andrew thought about telling him that he loved him.
"I love you, Warren," he imagined. And, in pretend land, Warren would hug him to him and say that he loved him too. And then he'd fall asleep for real. They both would. Just like this.
Instead, Andrew lay still until both his buttcheeks were asleep and he had a crick in his neck. He held Warren and listened to him sleep. If he couldn't tell him -- not yet -- he might as well just let Warren sleep. When they woke up, if Warren wanted to do it again, Andrew'd tell him.
Warren raised himself up one-handed to look down at Andrew's body. Andrew was blushing and cringing and starting to visibly panic. His still-mostly-hard cock twitched, dripping oozily. Huh. That was quicker than he'd expected. Oh well, less work that way.
So, let him suffer a bit longer? The quick breaths and red cheeks were so appealing somehow. But no. Sissy Boy was on the verge of tears, and that could just not end well no matter what.
"Pay attention Andrew. It's over. I'm done. Stop apologizing."
Warren reached down with his free hand and touched their mixing come lazily. He dragged his finger through it analytically, brought it up to his face to see it closer, then wiped it off on Andrew's tummy.
He squeezed into the gap between Andrew and the couch back and laid on his side to rest. So sleepy. He thumped his arm across Andrew's chest, not caring if it was uncomfortable.
"Anyway, what do I care? Do I need you hard for any reason? Were you planning to bend me over the couch and molest me?"
He scoffed and shook his head, amused. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed his head down, with his mouth squished against Andrew's shoulder. So sleepy.
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Andrew imagined it was a little like being as a god.
Using his undershirt with his other hand, he wiped the mess away on his own stomach. That was their come. That was them, cooling on his skin. Kinda gross. But, you know, sweet. All the same, he wiped it away and pulled his boxers up so it covered his dick. Warren was all tucked in and probably warm, so Andrew tried to cuddle himself closer.
The noise startled him at first, but when he realized it was just Warren snoring a little, he relaxed. Aww. Cute. Snoring. Andrew wondered if all men fell asleep after they came, or if it was just particular to Warren.
Didn't matter, he guessed, because there wouldn't be anyone else. For a second, as Warren shifted in his sleep and gathered Andrew's shirt in his fist, Andrew thought about telling him that he loved him.
"I love you, Warren," he imagined. And, in pretend land, Warren would hug him to him and say that he loved him too. And then he'd fall asleep for real. They both would. Just like this.
Instead, Andrew lay still until both his buttcheeks were asleep and he had a crick in his neck. He held Warren and listened to him sleep. If he couldn't tell him -- not yet -- he might as well just let Warren sleep. When they woke up, if Warren wanted to do it again, Andrew'd tell him.
I mean, probably.
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