[ Oh my god, James Mace, the things that come out of your fucking mouth are practically made for him. Hearing his own name, hearing it in that tone, and even more than that - nobody's ever. That one gives him a particularly selfish, deep kind of gratification. It's dark and possessive and filthy, and he bobs enthusiastically after he hears it. Like encouragement, like he's rewarding it,
Just like that.
Good. God damn, good. Mace has been taking care of him for two straight days, it's time he earn something back. He loves this, he really fucking loves this. It's like some kind of new scientific discovery, like he's the first person to unearth a new species. Write a new theory. Make it a law. His.
His hand strokes out the places his mouth can't reach, and he picks up speed. His body does its best to redirect a little blood south again - not enough to get him hard, not even half way, not so soon, but-- it's there. The thought is there. The want is there, burning under his skin.
If Mace keeps talking, his whole edging plan is gonna go clean out the fucking window. Replaced with absolute enthusiasm. ]
no subject
Just like that.
Good. God damn, good. Mace has been taking care of him for two straight days, it's time he earn something back. He loves this, he really fucking loves this. It's like some kind of new scientific discovery, like he's the first person to unearth a new species. Write a new theory. Make it a law. His.
His hand strokes out the places his mouth can't reach, and he picks up speed. His body does its best to redirect a little blood south again - not enough to get him hard, not even half way, not so soon, but-- it's there. The thought is there. The want is there, burning under his skin.
If Mace keeps talking, his whole edging plan is gonna go clean out the fucking window. Replaced with absolute enthusiasm. ]