[ Had he known, going into this, that Ian was gonna practically suck his brains out through his dick, Mace would’ve asked for his hands to be tied the fuck down. There’s no way he can keep them steady like this, nails involuntarily digging into Ian’s shoulder, his other hand clenching in his own damn hair as he moans Ian’s name, loud and trembling.
All he knows is the wet mouth around him, the way it’s reducing his entire world to nothing but good, and if Ian pulls back right now, Mace thinks he might actually die. But Ian keeps going, doesn’t stop, and the pleasure between Mace's legs goes white-hot right before it crashes over him like a wave, his voice going slurred and broken. ]
F-fuck, you’re gonna make me — Ian, please—!
[ And Mace comes so hard his vision blurs, his cock pulsing into that silken, molten heat, twitching all over and curling in on himself with the force of his orgasm. It’s so good he loses time for a while, sinking into it, his ears filled with a sudden white noise. As if from a distance, he can hear someone make shocked, hurt little sounds; realizes dimly that they’re coming from his own throat.
Realizes that his eyes are squeezed shut, lashes trembling; that both his hands are on Ian now, the fingers curled loosely in those dark, soft strands as the aftershocks go through him. He swallows, feeling overwhelmed and so, so good. ]
Jesus Christ, gorgeous.
[ Rough and unsteady, his breath hitching afterward. It’s as if his orgasm’s knocked the bravado right out of him, left him aching and soft in a way he’s never felt before. ]
no subject
All he knows is the wet mouth around him, the way it’s reducing his entire world to nothing but good, and if Ian pulls back right now, Mace thinks he might actually die. But Ian keeps going, doesn’t stop, and the pleasure between Mace's legs goes white-hot right before it crashes over him like a wave, his voice going slurred and broken. ]
F-fuck, you’re gonna make me — Ian, please—!
[ And Mace comes so hard his vision blurs, his cock pulsing into that silken, molten heat, twitching all over and curling in on himself with the force of his orgasm. It’s so good he loses time for a while, sinking into it, his ears filled with a sudden white noise. As if from a distance, he can hear someone make shocked, hurt little sounds; realizes dimly that they’re coming from his own throat.
Realizes that his eyes are squeezed shut, lashes trembling; that both his hands are on Ian now, the fingers curled loosely in those dark, soft strands as the aftershocks go through him. He swallows, feeling overwhelmed and so, so good. ]
Jesus Christ, gorgeous.
[ Rough and unsteady, his breath hitching afterward. It’s as if his orgasm’s knocked the bravado right out of him, left him aching and soft in a way he’s never felt before. ]