Mateo
Should'a seen what I wore
I had a cane and a party hat
I had a cane and a party hat
Satisfaction blooms in Mateo's mind like budding flowers on a hot morning, unfurling with every touch of Vesper's fingers, every sound dragged from his throat. "I was thirsty," he says roughly, the words framed by a wicked smile and hitching as he's suddenly shoved forward, left braced against the shelving and arched perfectly into the other man's hands. "I just didn't know it was for more than a drink." Gasping at the liquid fire of Vesper's touch, patient in a way that has his thoughts writhing and thorny for more, the botanist shifts to welcome the other man between his thighs in whatever capacity he's decided is enough for now.
"Is that - nn - so?" He pants, tongue running across his teeth as he lets his imagination run wild with the promise of so much more. He conjures the image of Vesper's hand across his mouth to cage the sounds of his pleasure, of fingers digging hard into his hips, of their bodies splayed out in the mirrored reflections like they've accidentally walked in on their doppergangers at work. "Well," he huffs. "You do own the bar. Who am I to say how long you take for a break?"
"Is that - nn - so?" He pants, tongue running across his teeth as he lets his imagination run wild with the promise of so much more. He conjures the image of Vesper's hand across his mouth to cage the sounds of his pleasure, of fingers digging hard into his hips, of their bodies splayed out in the mirrored reflections like they've accidentally walked in on their doppergangers at work. "Well," he huffs. "You do own the bar. Who am I to say how long you take for a break?"
I was the king of this hologram
where there's no such thing as getting out of hand
where there's no such thing as getting out of hand
