champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
It's a response - or a lack of one - enough for Mateo to get the picture very clearly indeed, and it's with an indulgent smile into their kiss that he's happily ferried forward as Hawthorn leans back. "Gods," he hisses as they part however briefly, the botanist leaning in to blaze a trail of kisses down the side of his neck, fingers clutching possessively against his thighs as their hips press and grind together.
With his patience finally running out, Mateo steps back a fraction that he might be able to unfasten buttons and tug at fabric, freeing both of them from the confines of their clothes enough to grasp both of their cocks in one of his hands. Stroking a rhythm that wishes it could be so much more, his free hand curls around to press at Thorn's lower back, and he offers him a devilish sort of smile. "How do you want to do this?" he whispers.
Both men are clearly flexible in more than one way, and Mateo has no preference other than pleasure.
With his patience finally running out, Mateo steps back a fraction that he might be able to unfasten buttons and tug at fabric, freeing both of them from the confines of their clothes enough to grasp both of their cocks in one of his hands. Stroking a rhythm that wishes it could be so much more, his free hand curls around to press at Thorn's lower back, and he offers him a devilish sort of smile. "How do you want to do this?" he whispers.
Both men are clearly flexible in more than one way, and Mateo has no preference other than pleasure.
