[ Last clamp, last bruise- Taylor tugs it free with a flick of his wrist, slick palm cradling Locus' cock afterward in an almost protective grip. New bruises all over, beautiful against dark skin, and it has to hurt, it has to ache, this has to be too much-
And he asks for more.
Goddamn if part of Taylor isn't a little in love with him for that. Just a little.
He curls tight, forehead pressed to Locus' cheek, hips snapping up hard and high on instinct, all finesse lost as that heat curls tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach. All he can feel or breathe or taste or think is Locus. That voice, this salt, the overwhelming clench of his body- one last sharp thrust and he groans, muffling the sound in the side of his throat, shooting hot and deep inside. ]
no subject
And he asks for more.
Goddamn if part of Taylor isn't a little in love with him for that. Just a little.
He curls tight, forehead pressed to Locus' cheek, hips snapping up hard and high on instinct, all finesse lost as that heat curls tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach. All he can feel or breathe or taste or think is Locus. That voice, this salt, the overwhelming clench of his body- one last sharp thrust and he groans, muffling the sound in the side of his throat, shooting hot and deep inside. ]