He wanted to be able to come from just this. The suction of Leon's mouth on his balls loosened sound into a wretched moan and he was smacking his head back against the mattress because he couldn't deal with all this need. It was stronger than he was, more determined, and he twisted on the bed in an attempt to free himself from Leon's mouth and touch, except Leon was right. The explanation just wasn't important. He succeeded in making himself breathless but need was still there
( ... )
All of the obscenities he couldn't speak rung inside of his head instead. It was desire like a wreck inside of him to have Leon's hand around his cock while the water hit him and his hips jerked forward, arching him forward into Leon's grip to fuck his fist. His breaths felt just as drenched as his skin, the steam of the water making everything crawl with moisture, and he hated how Leon was able to hold himself distant enough to torment him. The beat of the water wasn't enough of a substitute when he still carried the memory of Leon's cock shoved up his ass. The water felt intrusive and it washed away the stain of their fuck off him but it couldn't cleanse his mind of it. It wasn't fair how badly he still wanted Leon's hand to stroke him more than this and send lust coursing through him until he could finally be rid of it. The way Leon let go instead left him protesting against the strap, his wrists jerking against the bindings around them as if he could free himself by sheer force. There was such a lack of connection to the room that
( ... )
He wasn't sure what had made him stop in the middle of this, what made him decide to make Matt wait again for him to choose to give him relief, the bathroom filled with the man's resentment and need as palpably as the humidity when he came back in to smoke and torment him with the weight of his gaze. "I'll let you go when this is done," he promised the man quietly as his fingers rubbed his asshole, easing inside when Matt's hips pushed back to him, the man impaling himself on his fingers like a whore. It didn't mean much to say that when there was no telling when he would be done with this man or if he wouldn't change his mind again. He fucked him carefully with two fingers, watching thin veils of steam lift gently from his skin, listening to the sounds smothered against the strap. Sounds that moaned tension and need. Sounds that hated him for the torture he was putting him through. Sounds that begged for more
( ... )
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