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.
If he was capable of thinking of anything beyond what he was doing, Nate would be amazed by Samuel. The man below him took everything he was giving, everything, and still seemed to ache for more. More that Nate wanted to give to him. Hungry lips sucked and kissed at Sam's throat, fingers squeezed almost too hard at Sam's hips, both desperate to make a mark.
Nate could feel himself growing rougher as his orgasm rushed up on him. Sam had been closer, but only just, and as the other man shook under him, a symphony panting from between his lips, Nate came himself, his hips thrusting forwards one last time. For a long moment, he didn't move, content to sit in this moment and bask. Back home, this was the last moment before one of them left. Nate didn't think that would be the case here. He didn't quite dare to hope it though.
Finally, Nate shifted, moving up and pulling out of Sam. He looked around for something he could use to clean them both up a little bit, then hovered, not sure what Sam wanted to do. His eyes flicked from Sam's face to the pillow beside him, a silent question of whether he could stay.
