Mateo
Should'a seen what I wore
I had a cane and a party hat
I had a cane and a party hat
Oh, Mateo's body and mind will both remember this little tryst, from the bruises he'll boast in the days to come to the way he'll never again be able to glance at this former-supply closet without needing to adjust his pants. Gasping out a ragged breath as the shadows slip from around his mouth, he gazes at Vesper's reflection in the mirror, sultry and defiant and needy all at once, like an addict craving a fix daring him to do his worst.
And gods does he deliver, the botanist dragging in another breath as shadowy tendrils reconvene around his throat, as Vesper's cock drives into him again, hard and relentless and causing his fingers to flinch around the shelving. "Only because you know how to fuck me so well," he grates out, as if whatever pleasure the other derives from him is well deserved and then some. "Fuck--"
The shadows, slinking ever slower, reach their destination and completely dissolve any witty responses Mateo might have. Grinding back hard against Vesper as if to create his own friction, it's with a broken moan that he silently begs the other man to fuck him until they're both little more than scattered nerve endings and hoarse cries of pleasure, until he doesn't know where he is or how long it's been, only the possessive feel of him all around.
And gods does he deliver, the botanist dragging in another breath as shadowy tendrils reconvene around his throat, as Vesper's cock drives into him again, hard and relentless and causing his fingers to flinch around the shelving. "Only because you know how to fuck me so well," he grates out, as if whatever pleasure the other derives from him is well deserved and then some. "Fuck--"
The shadows, slinking ever slower, reach their destination and completely dissolve any witty responses Mateo might have. Grinding back hard against Vesper as if to create his own friction, it's with a broken moan that he silently begs the other man to fuck him until they're both little more than scattered nerve endings and hoarse cries of pleasure, until he doesn't know where he is or how long it's been, only the possessive feel of him all around.
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
