[ with all the people he has brought to his bed and then never seen again, john should be better at being distant. at being charming without being too meaningful, giving himself enough depth for others to explore without seeming shallow and dull, but without giving himself away. he used to be so good at it. is that a sign of age, the simple way he falls into like, so to speak, with people here as though it's nothing. maybe it's what isaac did to him. gave him someone to come back to, someone to actually love, as easily as they ever skipped around the subject, avoided it as though it didn't existed even though it lay in bed with them every quiet sunday morning they shared together.
john wishes he didn't care. but as much as he tells himself that he picked cassidy's number out of his phone tonight for practicality, for the fact that he thinks they are both quite suited to this business of being casual about their partners, but now that he's here, he knows he cares a little more than he should. he knows that he cares about several people here far more than he should. but he tells himself that the pleasure rippling through him at the pathetically attractive sound that cassidy makes is the same kind of pleasure he'd get from doing this to anyone. ]
Now, now. [ with that, john dips his finger into cassidy properly, at long last, twisting and crooking, his nose pressing along the line of the young man's cheek until their mouths meet again in a brief but firm kiss that muffles the words that john mumbles against them. ] There's no need for that kind of language, is there?
[ if cassidy has an answer to that, it will have to wait until john is done with kissing him again. properly, this time. he doesn't care that his neck strains a little with the angle, all he wants is the taste of cassidy's mouth and the press of his tongue, coaxing and encouraging cassidy to turn his head and receive this movement that borders on apologetic in the way that john opens his mouth to him, pliantly, as though it's cassidy in control and not the other way around. steadily, john fucks him with his finger, alternative the rhythm between a smooth middle ground and something a little rougher, a little more telling of his own need. sweat is gathering between them where their skin slides together, heat that radiates from the activity of their bodies, and sometimes, john likes to think, heat that generates figuratively through the dialogue of possibility, of sex, coming into tangible existence.
gently, at first, john introduces a second finger to the first, his mouth still on cassidy's as he does so, starved of contact like a man in a desert without water. the pace of his fingers quickens and he groans softly as he feels his own cock twitch slightly, and he leans back from the kiss only to bite down on his lip a little, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak, sounding breathless. his tone has effortlessly gone from seeming sultry and filthy to something far gentler, something that cassidy won't have heard before. he makes requests that aren't requests at all, but the words seem so soft in his mouth, so plaintive and careful, like he's handling something so beautiful beneath his hands (which he is). ]
ROARS LOUDER
john wishes he didn't care. but as much as he tells himself that he picked cassidy's number out of his phone tonight for practicality, for the fact that he thinks they are both quite suited to this business of being casual about their partners, but now that he's here, he knows he cares a little more than he should. he knows that he cares about several people here far more than he should. but he tells himself that the pleasure rippling through him at the pathetically attractive sound that cassidy makes is the same kind of pleasure he'd get from doing this to anyone. ]
Now, now. [ with that, john dips his finger into cassidy properly, at long last, twisting and crooking, his nose pressing along the line of the young man's cheek until their mouths meet again in a brief but firm kiss that muffles the words that john mumbles against them. ] There's no need for that kind of language, is there?
[ if cassidy has an answer to that, it will have to wait until john is done with kissing him again. properly, this time. he doesn't care that his neck strains a little with the angle, all he wants is the taste of cassidy's mouth and the press of his tongue, coaxing and encouraging cassidy to turn his head and receive this movement that borders on apologetic in the way that john opens his mouth to him, pliantly, as though it's cassidy in control and not the other way around. steadily, john fucks him with his finger, alternative the rhythm between a smooth middle ground and something a little rougher, a little more telling of his own need. sweat is gathering between them where their skin slides together, heat that radiates from the activity of their bodies, and sometimes, john likes to think, heat that generates figuratively through the dialogue of possibility, of sex, coming into tangible existence.
gently, at first, john introduces a second finger to the first, his mouth still on cassidy's as he does so, starved of contact like a man in a desert without water. the pace of his fingers quickens and he groans softly as he feels his own cock twitch slightly, and he leans back from the kiss only to bite down on his lip a little, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak, sounding breathless. his tone has effortlessly gone from seeming sultry and filthy to something far gentler, something that cassidy won't have heard before. he makes requests that aren't requests at all, but the words seem so soft in his mouth, so plaintive and careful, like he's handling something so beautiful beneath his hands (which he is). ]
Lie on your back for me, Cassidy.