Re: [in-person: holly & noah.]
[Now is a good time to mention that Sweatpants Season was a good fucking season. Noah wasn't glad of the, uh, injured leg or anything, but Holly in sweatpants? Was sexy af. The dude wasn't into form-fitting clothes, so it wasn't like Noah could check out his ass most of the time anyway. But, what sweats did better than jeans was the dick print, dude. I mean, if Holly was hard, then jeans weren't going to do much either. But, even soft, if the dude walked right, Noah could catch glimpses of Holly's cock pressed to the fabric. He appreciated that. You know. Aesthetically. That the dude was hard now, his cock practically outlined, from head to shaft, was no small part of the incentive to sit on Holly's lap.
To give himself a little breathing room, Noah reached down to pop his fly. His own cock was trapped under denim and he repositioned it as Holly's palms came up to press to his, Noah's, hips. His cock was kept under his white briefs, just positioned so it wasn't getting crushed. It was real big Calvin Klein look, dude. Noah would've been proud of it, except he was trying to make sure he didn't sit too heavy on Holly's thighs.—Holly had other ideas, though. He usually did. So, Noah sat, his knees sliding wider. He urged the joint toward him, held in Holly's fingers, and he toked, long and deep, as he watched Holly watch him.
He held the smoke behind his lips and dipped toward Holly, just as the dude whispered his thoughtless little word. Noah smiled, trying not to laugh and choke on fucking pot smoke when he was trying to be sexy. He nudged at Holly, nose to soft cheek, until Holly parted his lips.]