[ Kaspar knows what is coming, purposefully rooting him. Throat relaxing, his teary gaze is as alive as it's ever been. Fixated on what he can see of Steinbeck's straining, pleased body, raindrops to steam against his fingers. The blue of his eyes, like the blurred inner core of a candle, pulses with the throb, the breathless calm as the humming quiets and wax melts down his throat.
Consistent wet warmth seeks to empty him fully, Kaspar confident in his ability to hold his breath for longer than he needs. It crystallizes the moment, distilled, hold relaxing into soothing circles on the other man's hips as he lets him ride it out with abandon and welcoming warmth. The heat, the life beneath his fingertips and sliding deep into him is consumed greedily, shamelessly, paired with the soft and affectionate slide of his palms up over the scars of his stomach. It is just the two of them, reveling in the crater of their own making.
He lingers after he is spent, only teasing the tip with the loving kiss of his slightly swollen lips and the playful parting swipe of his tongue. The summer air buys more time before the chill, keeping Kaspar's movements languid as he shifts again. Lava, addicted to earth and vine, moves to feather kisses slowly up Steinbeck's stomach, chest; affection pressed to ever past ache or pain that he can find in the gentleness of the afterglow.
Reaching his jaw, kissing up to his ear as he reaches to hold him. A different need, of ash warmed by the sun, fertilizing the soil. Though he does not hide the obvious hardness pressed snugly between them, sighing at the feel of even that friction. Edging, the favorite pastime of the sensitive, though Kaspar knows not the term.
But his voice is deep now, made hoarse from wax and affection. There is no expectation, just the offer with half lidded eyes and the promise of more pleasure. Though he seems just as content to stay like this forever, hands sliding around Steinbeck's waist to embrace him. ]
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Consistent wet warmth seeks to empty him fully, Kaspar confident in his ability to hold his breath for longer than he needs. It crystallizes the moment, distilled, hold relaxing into soothing circles on the other man's hips as he lets him ride it out with abandon and welcoming warmth. The heat, the life beneath his fingertips and sliding deep into him is consumed greedily, shamelessly, paired with the soft and affectionate slide of his palms up over the scars of his stomach. It is just the two of them, reveling in the crater of their own making.
He lingers after he is spent, only teasing the tip with the loving kiss of his slightly swollen lips and the playful parting swipe of his tongue. The summer air buys more time before the chill, keeping Kaspar's movements languid as he shifts again. Lava, addicted to earth and vine, moves to feather kisses slowly up Steinbeck's stomach, chest; affection pressed to ever past ache or pain that he can find in the gentleness of the afterglow.
Reaching his jaw, kissing up to his ear as he reaches to hold him. A different need, of ash warmed by the sun, fertilizing the soil. Though he does not hide the obvious hardness pressed snugly between them, sighing at the feel of even that friction. Edging, the favorite pastime of the sensitive, though Kaspar knows not the term.
But his voice is deep now, made hoarse from wax and affection. There is no expectation, just the offer with half lidded eyes and the promise of more pleasure.
Though he seems just as content to stay like this forever, hands sliding around Steinbeck's waist to embrace him. ]
... Would you, like more?