A hot shudder rolls over him, and another, making him gasp for breath as he slams down onto that glorious cock over and over. Soon it's too much- Garrett can't keep leaning over like this, he has to sit up properly, lean back a little to get the angle that tears a cry from his throat.
"Oh! Oh fuck, fuck-"
It hits him like a bolt of lightning, Owen's cock striking hard against that place inside, and all of a sudden his exhaustion doesn't matter anymore. Garrett moves faster, hands resting on his thighs for all that he can't quite reach Owen at this angle. They roam over his body, desperate for touch- as he rides Owen's cock he runs his hands up his thighs, his stomach (deliberately avoiding his cock, bobbing huge and heavy and ignored between them, dripping onto Owen's stomach and throbbing so hard it aches-), tweaking and rubbing at still-tender nipples until he throws his head back and gasps.
"Owen," he pants, running his hands through his own hair at the heightening waves of pleasure, cheeks red and eyes glassy. His cock jerks and leaks, the fluid pearly-white as it only is when he's getting fucked, balls tight and the flush starting to spread tell-tale down his chest. He moves faster, putting those powerful muscled thighs to work, desperate to see Owen come- to do like he was told, to- "Feels so good, oh Maker, oh-"
The words come for me rise in his throat but he fights them back, feeling instinctively that right now, his is not to command. His job is to obey. To listen, to do as he's told and make Owen come, to get fucked. To distract himself he twists at his nipples viciously, arching his back with a pained cry.
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"Oh! Oh fuck, fuck-"
It hits him like a bolt of lightning, Owen's cock striking hard against that place inside, and all of a sudden his exhaustion doesn't matter anymore. Garrett moves faster, hands resting on his thighs for all that he can't quite reach Owen at this angle. They roam over his body, desperate for touch- as he rides Owen's cock he runs his hands up his thighs, his stomach (deliberately avoiding his cock, bobbing huge and heavy and ignored between them, dripping onto Owen's stomach and throbbing so hard it aches-), tweaking and rubbing at still-tender nipples until he throws his head back and gasps.
"Owen," he pants, running his hands through his own hair at the heightening waves of pleasure, cheeks red and eyes glassy. His cock jerks and leaks, the fluid pearly-white as it only is when he's getting fucked, balls tight and the flush starting to spread tell-tale down his chest. He moves faster, putting those powerful muscled thighs to work, desperate to see Owen come- to do like he was told, to- "Feels so good, oh Maker, oh-"
The words come for me rise in his throat but he fights them back, feeling instinctively that right now, his is not to command. His job is to obey. To listen, to do as he's told and make Owen come, to get fucked. To distract himself he twists at his nipples viciously, arching his back with a pained cry.