Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven - Saturday Morning
It wasn't that Jamie felt like, undone or whatever. He wasn't done. He woke slow on a good day, his knee ached first thing and was stiff and his muscles needed warmth and work or they were tight as fuck. He wasn't there, like put together, he hadn't even begun. There had been nothing, warm fug of blankets and getting teenage-hard over a dream or proximity or whatever and now there was this: his own cock twitching in the slide of the guy's fingers, head flushed within the dry slide of Seven's palm, the heft of the guy's hips jammed against his own as Seven rocked hard, indeterminate rhythm of hipbones against the meat of his ass, the slide of his cock over like, his hole or whatever sent his stomach plummeting and his balls ached.
There was asleep and there was awake, and Jamie's voice croaked, as the guy's tongue laved wet heat against bare skin that cooled rapidly in the retreat. It was like, a zero to one twenty experience, and Jamie was like, awake and rock-hard and he made a sound that was like, surprise throttled around need that came from nowhere, full-throated and he moaned when the guy's teeth scraped skin. He wanted, like fuzzily, because what Jamie wanted was several things at once: he wanted to turn into the dirty heat of the guy's mouth and feel more of it, in more places, he wanted Seven's hand harder, or maybe his mouth there instead, and he was dizzingly aware of like, just HOW awake Seven was glued to his ass.
Jamie made like decisions, quick. They weren't even decisions, because to like, turn into the guy would have broken the grip the guy had on his cock, and Seven was crammed up behind him so hard there wasn't space to move without probably taking out something vital with a knee. He drew his knee up, like, toward his belly, which gave the guy a little room and - with an off-the-elevator kind of gut twist that stroked heat through his balls and fissured through his bloodstream like a couple shots of tequila - let Seven's cock hit fatly against the crack of his ass, with room to slide. He fucked upward, a little, into the guy's grip and let his head fall back.
"Fuck." Soft, fricative and full. Jamie laughed. It was thick on sleep, a little delirious. He was, a little, high on contact. "M'awake."