( he is absolutely not paying attention to what Crowley's saying after the man starts moving. not when he's finally doing what Aoba wants, holding his hips and thrusting into him in a way that rips a cry from his throat. that angle. it sends a twisting sensation straight to his core, making him gasp and shiver, tremble, squirm, kick his legs before awkwardly hooking them around the vampire.
even if Aoba's appalled by the order he's still trying to obey. his fingers twitch and it's only by clinging to that order that he doesn't try to grab himself and stroke, even if his arms do swing between going down and going up. he settles on up and over his head as he twists his fingers into the covers, tugging, using that an anchor as he rolls his hips and tries to meet those thrusts. squeezing in response, against the heat inside of him, trying to get it deeper.
it hurts. of course it does—not only is he lacking any lubricant but Crowley only teased his ass a little. yet the pain mixes with an undeniable pleasure that he's dying to get more of, a mess of delighted tremors, a euphoric expression etched across his features.
yeah, Crowley, you picked up a weird one. just leave him in the garbage cans outside when you head home.
the look soon extends into a laugh—a faint thing that grows stronger, breathless and excited, drenched with low-pitched allure and honeyed sweetness, rasped from bruised lips. )
Crowley, ( the man's name groaned in that same honey tone, ) Crowley.
( orders or not, Aoba's going to have no control over his orgasm, inevitable certainty it is. maybe if he'd been given those orders from the start. maybe if they had used lube and erased the painful elements that so easily sent him over the edge. maybe if he paced himself earlier and didn't get so drunk on seeing the man naked. seriously, maybe if Crowley wasn't so damn hot.
maybe, maybe, maybe. what he feels now is that prickling sensation at the small of his back, the ache in his groin swinging up hard, and that mix of numb and intense all at once crushing down on his chest like a weight.
rutting, grinding, hips jerking and his cock twitches as pre trails, warning about his impending orgasm before he can even managed to croak out the words. thoughts blown from his mind, he's a being of desire and want, trying to reach a goal. he's sweating, skin gone clammy with a wash of cold and hot flashes. god. god. he feels Crowley right down in the marrow of his bones. )
I—I can't, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!
( and unless Crowley stops him, which he probably won't, because telling Aoba to do things and watching him fail must also a kink of his, he's going to come. hard. whoops. he's so hopeless at following orders. )
no subject
even if Aoba's appalled by the order he's still trying to obey. his fingers twitch and it's only by clinging to that order that he doesn't try to grab himself and stroke, even if his arms do swing between going down and going up. he settles on up and over his head as he twists his fingers into the covers, tugging, using that an anchor as he rolls his hips and tries to meet those thrusts. squeezing in response, against the heat inside of him, trying to get it deeper.
it hurts. of course it does—not only is he lacking any lubricant but Crowley only teased his ass a little. yet the pain mixes with an undeniable pleasure that he's dying to get more of, a mess of delighted tremors, a euphoric expression etched across his features.
yeah, Crowley, you picked up a weird one. just leave him in the garbage cans outside when you head home.
the look soon extends into a laugh—a faint thing that grows stronger, breathless and excited, drenched with low-pitched allure and honeyed sweetness, rasped from bruised lips. )
Crowley, ( the man's name groaned in that same honey tone, ) Crowley.
( orders or not, Aoba's going to have no control over his orgasm, inevitable certainty it is. maybe if he'd been given those orders from the start. maybe if they had used lube and erased the painful elements that so easily sent him over the edge. maybe if he paced himself earlier and didn't get so drunk on seeing the man naked. seriously, maybe if Crowley wasn't so damn hot.
maybe, maybe, maybe. what he feels now is that prickling sensation at the small of his back, the ache in his groin swinging up hard, and that mix of numb and intense all at once crushing down on his chest like a weight.
rutting, grinding, hips jerking and his cock twitches as pre trails, warning about his impending orgasm before he can even managed to croak out the words. thoughts blown from his mind, he's a being of desire and want, trying to reach a goal. he's sweating, skin gone clammy with a wash of cold and hot flashes. god. god. he feels Crowley right down in the marrow of his bones. )
I—I can't, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!
( and unless Crowley stops him, which he probably won't, because telling Aoba to do things and watching him fail must also a kink of his, he's going to come. hard. whoops. he's so hopeless at following orders. )