NATE
The tragic flaw of charming men
is exactly as it seems,
too much grease,
can break down a machine.
is exactly as it seems,
too much grease,
can break down a machine.
Pressing into Sam was a near indescribable feeling. Nate’s hands shook, one on Sams hip and the thumb of the other stroking over freckled cheeks. As he bottomed out Nate let out a groan from deep his throat and doubled over, leaning over the man under him and kissing along his jaw.
”Wow.” Nate repeated with a laugh, his whole body trembling with the effort of staying still, his hips rocking, grinding into Sam. He felt bad for the discomfort Sam was going through. From the kisses, which had now migrated low down Sams throat, and the hand still gently stroking Sam’s face, Nate was doing everything he could to be soothing. Or at least distract him. ”You okay?” He asked, breathlessly, in the moments his lips weren’t pressed to stubbornly pale skin.
Once he’d gotten confirmation that Sam was okay, that he wanted to keep going, Nate slowly pulled his hips back. It was half concern and half teasing. Sam has already said he was close, and if he was being honest, Nate knew he wasn’t going to last long either. But he wanted to savour every little notion, memorize every expression of bliss on Sams face.
