[ christ above, john needs to start telling people about his telepathy. it always made it so convenient, the opportunity to keep whispering filthy things to whoever he's gone down on, even though his mouth is occupied. he doesn't answer, this time, because he doesn't want to break the rhythm, so all he does is raise his brows, looking up at cassidy from beneath his lashes, cheeks hollowing sharply for a moment as his lips tighten around his cock. he waits for cassidy to catch his gaze before lowering it again, a gaze that says it all, that promises cassidy he can recover that quickly. he digs his fingers harder into cassidy's hip, possibly enough to bruise, later, or at the very least leave flushed red marks from his nails.
with a casual sort of deftness, a ridiculous and stupid confidence in himself that he knows what he's doing (as if cassidy's not making that clear enough as it is), he makes two shallow, short movements before sliding all the way down again, agonisingly staying there for just a moment. a moment that he takes to watch cassidy squirm, his body reacting on impulse and lust. it's so satisfying. his own cock twitches, and he moans softly, subdued around cassidy, part of it involuntary and part of it purposeful. he vastly enjoys the way cassidy says his name, the way it trips and stumbles out of his mouth when he's so, so close to coming. john's always pretty ambivalent about people coming in his mouth until the moment that it's almost or has happened, and in that moment the vaguely smug pleasure of making someone else come kicks in.
if john knew exactly how much cassidy liked his talk, he probably wouldn't last long enough right now to get around to fucking him.
he'll stay there until the young man can barely take it anymore, lick him clean and slow down, soften the movements of his tongue and mouth on cassidy's cock until it's a whisper of a touch, but just enough, all the same, to keep him trembling. almost too much, but not quite. and when he feels cassidy's body slump, sink against the wall, he'll know it's time to press on. ]
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with a casual sort of deftness, a ridiculous and stupid confidence in himself that he knows what he's doing (as if cassidy's not making that clear enough as it is), he makes two shallow, short movements before sliding all the way down again, agonisingly staying there for just a moment. a moment that he takes to watch cassidy squirm, his body reacting on impulse and lust. it's so satisfying. his own cock twitches, and he moans softly, subdued around cassidy, part of it involuntary and part of it purposeful. he vastly enjoys the way cassidy says his name, the way it trips and stumbles out of his mouth when he's so, so close to coming. john's always pretty ambivalent about people coming in his mouth until the moment that it's almost or has happened, and in that moment the vaguely smug pleasure of making someone else come kicks in.
if john knew exactly how much cassidy liked his talk, he probably wouldn't last long enough right now to get around to fucking him.
he'll stay there until the young man can barely take it anymore, lick him clean and slow down, soften the movements of his tongue and mouth on cassidy's cock until it's a whisper of a touch, but just enough, all the same, to keep him trembling. almost too much, but not quite. and when he feels cassidy's body slump, sink against the wall, he'll know it's time to press on. ]