Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven - Saturday Morning
Yeah like, none of this was comfortable. He had a cramp building in his thigh, from where his knee was locked back, his foot pistoning the guy's calf, but the alternative was that his knee wasn't locked, and his thigh started to shake and Jamie was literally certain that if that shit started, it was going to like hit every fucking muscle on the way out. So yeah, knee locked, and his toes splayed and flexed against the muscle of the exterior of the guy's calf and that hurt too, but pain was like, blurred, seeping under how hot his skin felt, like the interior of the bed was a pressure cooker, sweat beading his spine.
He could feel Seven's chin dig into the gap between collarbone and the side of his neck, the scuff of his beard scraping the skin to slivers, and like, pain Jamie embraced, because the guy's thumb slicked under the head of his cock and Jamie inhaled jagged, his breath breaking like glass as Seven's breath lit up the back of his scalp, fetid-warm on the back of his ear, and like, Jamie felt everything, from the way the guy's breath rattled in his chest and buffeted his shoulder-blade, to the sticky ooze of precome drying faintly at the crack of his ass which like, set the hairs along his back to attention.
Sensation had been massing, spreading out like the light filling the room, picking out the cushions tossed wild across the carpet but all of it was distilling down to the sharp jerk of the guy's hips against his backside, the scald of the guy's arm over his hipbone, and Jamie wanted, sharply like, greedily or whatever to either get inside the guy or his mouth on the guy as he looked down, hazily at the hasp and slide of his own cock through the grip of the guy's palm, tanned against the shock-white sheets.
Seven's mouth was like, the next best thing? And like, he rose to it, his chin felt like raw meat and he fucked the guy's mouth with his tongue, rough slides and a whole lot of spit and the sloppy clash of teeth as Jamie thrust hard into the clasp of his hand. The angle fucking hurt, his spine felt like twisted wire and his knee ached but he was so hard that when the guy's shove against his ass canted low, Jamie felt him like, there, blunt pressure against his balls, like, unbearably this side of good and the muscle in his ass ticked, tightened.
He couldn't even see much now, sweat was stinging his eyes when they were open, and his neck was craned to kiss the guy, which didn't even feel like a kiss so much as consuming him, fucking him, whatever. He felt like, the arches of his feet quake, his fingers - on the hand that wasn't clamped against the side of Seven's ass - wound so tight into the sheet his knuckles were a dull, dark red and Jamie scraped teeth over the guy's lower lip and tugged, blind.