[He breathes eagerly, before America even gets all the words out. His boyfriend’s fallen into the robot logic trap, which is as far as Luke’s brain gets before all he can think about is the heat between his legs, nice fingers rubbing inside of him while sharp bites make his legs trembling and weak.
All these sweet murmurs in his ears do nothing to clear his head. Never forgot him. It’s almost as good as ‘never leave’, and just as painful to hear. Something to lock away with mute fragility, as he strokes the very low curve of his back. The glass is cold enough to make him shiver, but if he leans on it he can drag America closer and claw up his back, dig his fingers into America’s arse and thighs and rub against him while he laughs hot words between shallow pants.]
And alive. Feel how all the blood’s in your head… My heart is pounding. Look. [There’s not much space to press America’s hand over his chest. After a failed attempt to wriggle into the gap between their skin, America’s hand is dragged to his neck to feel how fast his pulse is racing. As if this is something unusual for sex, and not just a result of the heat on his already weakened breath.]
You sure you can lift me? I know you probably noticed, but I got pretty ripped while you were away. It’s all that dense muscle. Really heavy…
[He hikes his legs around America’s waist with a bounce that leaves all his weight hanging from a solid set of shoulders, in a scrabbling fight to lock his ankles around a trim waist. Apparently, he trusts America more than he trusts himself. Sex against a shower wall isn’t the most comfortable position, but then again, you very rarely have sex against a wall with someone who can lift a car.]
no subject
[He breathes eagerly, before America even gets all the words out. His boyfriend’s fallen into the robot logic trap, which is as far as Luke’s brain gets before all he can think about is the heat between his legs, nice fingers rubbing inside of him while sharp bites make his legs trembling and weak.
All these sweet murmurs in his ears do nothing to clear his head. Never forgot him. It’s almost as good as ‘never leave’, and just as painful to hear. Something to lock away with mute fragility, as he strokes the very low curve of his back. The glass is cold enough to make him shiver, but if he leans on it he can drag America closer and claw up his back, dig his fingers into America’s arse and thighs and rub against him while he laughs hot words between shallow pants.]
And alive. Feel how all the blood’s in your head… My heart is pounding. Look. [There’s not much space to press America’s hand over his chest. After a failed attempt to wriggle into the gap between their skin, America’s hand is dragged to his neck to feel how fast his pulse is racing. As if this is something unusual for sex, and not just a result of the heat on his already weakened breath.]
You sure you can lift me? I know you probably noticed, but I got pretty ripped while you were away. It’s all that dense muscle. Really heavy…
[He hikes his legs around America’s waist with a bounce that leaves all his weight hanging from a solid set of shoulders, in a scrabbling fight to lock his ankles around a trim waist. Apparently, he trusts America more than he trusts himself. Sex against a shower wall isn’t the most comfortable position, but then again, you very rarely have sex against a wall with someone who can lift a car.]