[ As Quentin steadies him, falls into a rhythm, Matt matches him. He draws in breaths that feel as deep as Quentin's thrusts, lets them out on moans that feather away as Quentin pulls nearly out of him. Once he's sure of his balance, of his grip on the back of the chair, his hips rock to meet him as he sinks back in, drawing louder, more urgent sounds that rise over the soft slap of skin meeting skin.
Matt wouldn't need the mirror to turn at the tug to his hair, but the extra perspective helps. He cranes to meet Quentin, messy collision of their mouths that gets them both laughing breathlessly--until Quentin's next thrust shocks a more profound moan from him. Matt bites helplessly at Quentin's lip, chasing after his mouth as if to drink in those strained words. But as Quentin begins to rock into him more firmly, Matt can't hold the position; his head falls forward again. ]
Oh, [ he groans. It's nowhere near so nice as the delicious words Quentin has to offer. Out in life, Matt chafes at the thought of uselessness, of confinement as someone's object; here, now, it's searing. The hottest thing he can imagine. Pretty little thing draws a reedy sigh, and his cry at Quentin's bite is sharper than it might otherwise be. Matt sighs, ecstatic: ] Smart man.
[ He is absolutely the kind of person to try and tough out strain. He enjoys suffering for a partner now and then, and though Matt doesn't think of himself as competitive, he's always trying to one-up himself. So it is, indeed, smart that Quentin gets ahead of the urge. That's why it's only a little while later that Matt admits on a hoarse laugh, ] Ah--okay--you're turning my legs into jelly.
no subject
Matt wouldn't need the mirror to turn at the tug to his hair, but the extra perspective helps. He cranes to meet Quentin, messy collision of their mouths that gets them both laughing breathlessly--until Quentin's next thrust shocks a more profound moan from him. Matt bites helplessly at Quentin's lip, chasing after his mouth as if to drink in those strained words. But as Quentin begins to rock into him more firmly, Matt can't hold the position; his head falls forward again. ]
Oh, [ he groans. It's nowhere near so nice as the delicious words Quentin has to offer. Out in life, Matt chafes at the thought of uselessness, of confinement as someone's object; here, now, it's searing. The hottest thing he can imagine. Pretty little thing draws a reedy sigh, and his cry at Quentin's bite is sharper than it might otherwise be. Matt sighs, ecstatic: ] Smart man.
[ He is absolutely the kind of person to try and tough out strain. He enjoys suffering for a partner now and then, and though Matt doesn't think of himself as competitive, he's always trying to one-up himself. So it is, indeed, smart that Quentin gets ahead of the urge. That's why it's only a little while later that Matt admits on a hoarse laugh, ] Ah--okay--you're turning my legs into jelly.