[ they could draw it out. they could fuck until dawn, fall asleep as the birds are chirping, wake up and do it all over again. cassidy wouldn't be opposed to the idea, far from it. he'd have someone in his bed at all times if it were totally up to him. doesn't have to be the same person, in fact he'd probably grow bored if it were, but ... he might not mind if it were john. at least for a while.
though, honestly, it's a little difficult to think beyond the present with the way john drags his lips over his cock and mouths his balls, causing a twist in the pit of his stomach. a broken moan falls from his lips. but what affects him just as much, if not more, is the sound of his name – his actual name. the one his mother used to call him inside for dinner, the one his friends yelled in the streets, the one his father used when barking orders at him on deck, the one avery whispered at night – the one he used before assuming the role of captain. to the world, he's captain hawking, but to those closest to him he's cassidy. and the way john says it, it sounds at once intimate and deliciously filthy.
the hot breath washing over his damp, highly sensitized flesh only makes the need worse. he moans low and gravelly, not unlike a growl. his hands slip into john's hair again, one on top and one in back, his fingers curling around it and holding his head still. this time, he doesn't waste any time building speed and shoving deep into john's mouth, nudging the back of his throat.
and it feels fucking incredible.
each thrust is punctuated by a short, hot "ah" or "oh," his heart pounding, his fingers twisting slightly in john's hair. when he feels his control slipping, he slows down enough to push all the way in, past the back of his throat until john's nose is pressed into his stomach, and the noise it wrings from him is absolutely wrecked. ]
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though, honestly, it's a little difficult to think beyond the present with the way john drags his lips over his cock and mouths his balls, causing a twist in the pit of his stomach. a broken moan falls from his lips. but what affects him just as much, if not more, is the sound of his name – his actual name. the one his mother used to call him inside for dinner, the one his friends yelled in the streets, the one his father used when barking orders at him on deck, the one avery whispered at night – the one he used before assuming the role of captain. to the world, he's captain hawking, but to those closest to him he's cassidy. and the way john says it, it sounds at once intimate and deliciously filthy.
the hot breath washing over his damp, highly sensitized flesh only makes the need worse. he moans low and gravelly, not unlike a growl. his hands slip into john's hair again, one on top and one in back, his fingers curling around it and holding his head still. this time, he doesn't waste any time building speed and shoving deep into john's mouth, nudging the back of his throat.
and it feels fucking incredible.
each thrust is punctuated by a short, hot "ah" or "oh," his heart pounding, his fingers twisting slightly in john's hair. when he feels his control slipping, he slows down enough to push all the way in, past the back of his throat until john's nose is pressed into his stomach, and the noise it wrings from him is absolutely wrecked. ]