Flavour [1/1]
Title: Flavour
Author: Eve atlaregay
Pairing: Jalex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Ain't my boys.
Summary: Our mix-tape is our moans.
The flavour of your lips is enough to keep me pressing.
And I won't care for your other lover.
I won't care for much, except that flavour.
Gives me chills and gets me high. Lifts me off the ground. I lift you off the ground. Onto the bed, under the sheets. Half-hard and sweating, swearing. That's just me though, the curses. You never speak when we do it. The heavy panting is enough.
I feel you against me and it's enough to keep me pressing.
Bare chests, bare legs. Jeans desperately being kicked to the floor. It never changes -- there's always a giggle from us both when the garments get tangled on somebody's ankles.
Your skin feels fiery hot and it makes me shiver.
Always a shy hesitance, to be naked, but there's that sly hand I always use on you, sneaking below the waistband anyway to tease, and embarrassment is forgotten. Underwear hits the floor with a soft sound and it's the signal for go.
And we don't take it lightly. No false starts where we're involved.
The flavour of your lips is what gets me here, but it's the flavour of your skin that fuels me further. Neck, chest, stomach, hips. All a little bit salty from that eager nervous sweating. Collarbones, nipples, ribs, thighs. Explored with my tongue. I want it. All of the flavour. I want it.
And your pre-come. So... edgy. Not bitter, not salty. Just something I can't quite place, like water or why the lights dance behind my eyes when you kiss me awake in the morning. I spread it around with my tongue, drawing out the process of tasting it. Something to be savoured.
It's always this way. Always going to be this way. Both of us just wanting and needing, whatever was available, whatever the other is willing to give. I just want you, and you just want me, and that's how it goes.
Chest to chest with hips against hips is how we do it best. Rubbing, grinding.
Enough to keep me pressing. Your other lover is only me, but not like this. I'm different like this.
And we kiss as we do it, even better, more beautiful. Adding to the wet feeling between us as each rub creates more leaks, excitement spilling from one or the other or often both in the form of beaded droplets.
Wanting and needing until we share that look, that strangled noise, the shakes setting in, and my hand goes down. Pushed between us clumsily, but just in time for the final spill, hot on my fingers. Your toes curl and your legs tighten, my eyes water and my stomach clenches. Soft noises are the only sounds we need.
Our mix-tape is our moans.
"Jack," I'll choke.
"Alex," you'll whimper.
And it's all done, just like that.
I caught it all, I always do, and it's hard to keep in my hand but I do it. Open mouths meet with tongues out in an attempt not to lose a drop, and that thick treat falls over my lips. You and me. We made that. When it stops dripping, we have to lick. Greedy, wide tongue-strokes all over my hand, between my fingers, racing to swallow as much as possible.
Kissing when I'm clean is the only way to keep tasting it, lapping it from each other's tongues. Breathless laughter when we realise how ridiculous we must look, licking into each other's open mouths like preteens learning to kiss.
That's how we know it's sleep time. Heads are put to pillows, blankets are snuggled under. And I give you your goodnight kisses in far stranger places.
Your underarms, soft hair tickling my nose.
Your bellybutton, tongue dipping inside for full effect. The flavour. I want it.
Your ankles, tongue gliding across the bone.
Your feet, light touches of the lips down to your toes and back up again.
Your fingertips, sucking delicately on each until I've tasted you everywhere and you're sleeping with a smile on.
I know I'll still taste you on my tongue when I wake. It's enough to keep me pressing.
All the flavours of you. I want them.
Author: Eve atlaregay
Pairing: Jalex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Ain't my boys.
Summary: Our mix-tape is our moans.
The flavour of your lips is enough to keep me pressing.
And I won't care for your other lover.
I won't care for much, except that flavour.
Gives me chills and gets me high. Lifts me off the ground. I lift you off the ground. Onto the bed, under the sheets. Half-hard and sweating, swearing. That's just me though, the curses. You never speak when we do it. The heavy panting is enough.
I feel you against me and it's enough to keep me pressing.
Bare chests, bare legs. Jeans desperately being kicked to the floor. It never changes -- there's always a giggle from us both when the garments get tangled on somebody's ankles.
Your skin feels fiery hot and it makes me shiver.
Always a shy hesitance, to be naked, but there's that sly hand I always use on you, sneaking below the waistband anyway to tease, and embarrassment is forgotten. Underwear hits the floor with a soft sound and it's the signal for go.
And we don't take it lightly. No false starts where we're involved.
The flavour of your lips is what gets me here, but it's the flavour of your skin that fuels me further. Neck, chest, stomach, hips. All a little bit salty from that eager nervous sweating. Collarbones, nipples, ribs, thighs. Explored with my tongue. I want it. All of the flavour. I want it.
And your pre-come. So... edgy. Not bitter, not salty. Just something I can't quite place, like water or why the lights dance behind my eyes when you kiss me awake in the morning. I spread it around with my tongue, drawing out the process of tasting it. Something to be savoured.
It's always this way. Always going to be this way. Both of us just wanting and needing, whatever was available, whatever the other is willing to give. I just want you, and you just want me, and that's how it goes.
Chest to chest with hips against hips is how we do it best. Rubbing, grinding.
Enough to keep me pressing. Your other lover is only me, but not like this. I'm different like this.
And we kiss as we do it, even better, more beautiful. Adding to the wet feeling between us as each rub creates more leaks, excitement spilling from one or the other or often both in the form of beaded droplets.
Wanting and needing until we share that look, that strangled noise, the shakes setting in, and my hand goes down. Pushed between us clumsily, but just in time for the final spill, hot on my fingers. Your toes curl and your legs tighten, my eyes water and my stomach clenches. Soft noises are the only sounds we need.
Our mix-tape is our moans.
"Jack," I'll choke.
"Alex," you'll whimper.
And it's all done, just like that.
I caught it all, I always do, and it's hard to keep in my hand but I do it. Open mouths meet with tongues out in an attempt not to lose a drop, and that thick treat falls over my lips. You and me. We made that. When it stops dripping, we have to lick. Greedy, wide tongue-strokes all over my hand, between my fingers, racing to swallow as much as possible.
Kissing when I'm clean is the only way to keep tasting it, lapping it from each other's tongues. Breathless laughter when we realise how ridiculous we must look, licking into each other's open mouths like preteens learning to kiss.
That's how we know it's sleep time. Heads are put to pillows, blankets are snuggled under. And I give you your goodnight kisses in far stranger places.
Your underarms, soft hair tickling my nose.
Your bellybutton, tongue dipping inside for full effect. The flavour. I want it.
Your ankles, tongue gliding across the bone.
Your feet, light touches of the lips down to your toes and back up again.
Your fingertips, sucking delicately on each until I've tasted you everywhere and you're sleeping with a smile on.
I know I'll still taste you on my tongue when I wake. It's enough to keep me pressing.
All the flavours of you. I want them.