geonomy | Drift Fleet Inbox, pt. 2

Drift Fleet Inbox, pt. 2

art by

arumajikaru
A catch all for Clay Terran at

driftfleet, part two.
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[Allen wasn't the most poetic sorts of people. There was many times when he was lost for words to describe his feelings for Clay, as well as what they had together. "We're in love" was certainly true, and Allen regularly told Clay of his love. But sometimes it felt those words didn't go deep enough to describe it all, to describe the emotional and physical pull this man had on him.

He makes a little "Ah!" sound when he starts biting and sucking on his neck, but it's clearly a very pleased one, if him tilting his head to make him more room wasn't a given. ]

Ha...you know, if you hadn't stopped us...I think I would've let you. [Have him like this]

...Well, alright, maybe not on our second date since we were in an waystation, but in that room. [He lift his pelvis again, his face flushed] It definitely crossed my mind.

[Clay lets out a breathless laugh against Allen's neck, then moves further down, until he can bite at his right shoulder, then kiss down to the start of his tattoo.]

I'm glad, though... That it worked out the way it did. [He speeds up the stroking he's doing to the both of them; the intensity that's getting to him makes him rest his forehead against Allen's chest and let out a groan of pleasure, his breath hot against his skin] You're so incredible, Starlight...

[He starts groaning, his hands gripping tight onto Clay. The scar tissue that the tattoo hid was still sensitive, so Clay's bites felt so good along with what he was doing to their lengths. ]

Me too. [It all worked out pretty quickly, after all. His own breath is getting heavy from the stroking] Ngh, so are you, Cowboy. Faster, please.

[It comes out almost pleading, in-between shallow breathes]

[Spurred by the sounds Allen's making, Clay grazes his teeth against the tattoo, nibbling at the areas he knows are more sensitive than others. At his request, he lets out a moan of approval, then fulfills that request, moving his hand faster, tightening his grip on the both of them, his breathing getting heavier. His other hand, the one holding himself up, moves down a little, just enough to grab a fistful of Allen's hair and give it a light tug]

G-Got this... ha...

[At this point, Allen's basically putty in Clay's hands. The other knows his sensitive spots so well, knows all the places to nibble and touch. His head falls back against the pillow, letting Clay's hand get in reach of his hair to grip, as his hips continue moving into those strokes, that touch. His voice on the other hand, is far from quiet. He's gasping, and moaning out Clay's name in bliss in between breathes.

He probably won't last much longer at this rate. His hand runs up into the back of Clay's hair to return his own light tugs.]

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Drift Fleet Inbox, pt. 2

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