Feeling someone as big, as dangerous, as strong as Krauser nearly squirm for a little more is viciously validating, Leon very nearly has You like that? ready to tumble off his tongue, but he's being tugged into his lap. It doesn't escape him, that it feels more like an invitation than an order, that he's coaxing him down in a way that used to really get under Leon's skin. A way that made him feel safe, wanted, and that would stab at him under the new context of their relationship, if they weren't both so out of their minds with lust they've skewered reason entirely.
Prettyboy. Jesus, what a loaded epithet.
"Yeah," Leon peels his downcast gaze from the tantalizing sight of his cock in Krauser's fist, the tip glistening wet, angrily blushing for the neglect, and connects with the icy blue of the man's gaze with the kind of intensity that feels electric. Oh fuck, he's missed this. How easy this was sometimes, when they'd crash together, knowing what they needed. "Hold still. Just like that—"
He'd be underprepared if it weren't for the unspoken fact that he's been taking Shaxx's cock so many times (and sometimes, for so long he couldn't fucking walk) it's brought back what was lost in Krauser's absence, all the work of training him to take a man of Krauser's size. Spit and pre isn't much to work with, but the only one with an inkling for how completely fucked up Leon is inside for liking some pain with his pleasure is the man he's with, right now.
Leon links his hands behind the thick column of Krauser's neck, lets him hold his waiting girth steady as the agent rolls his hips, grinding his slick glans over a hole left pink and a little swollen for the attention of his fingers. His eyes steadily darken when Krauser's swollen cockhead begins to breach him, pupils blowing wide at the burn of stretching to swallow his girth, mouth slack around the slow, deep breaths he's struggling to keep even.
Muscle quivers, on his thighs, his stomach, his back, taxed by the slow, slow descent; Leon's hands unlink behind Krauser's neck, one clasping the meat of his shoulder tightly, the other clasping his nape as his chin tips up, eyes brightening with the reflexive moisture pricking at them while he starts to bottom out, leaning back.
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Prettyboy. Jesus, what a loaded epithet.
"Yeah," Leon peels his downcast gaze from the tantalizing sight of his cock in Krauser's fist, the tip glistening wet, angrily blushing for the neglect, and connects with the icy blue of the man's gaze with the kind of intensity that feels electric. Oh fuck, he's missed this. How easy this was sometimes, when they'd crash together, knowing what they needed. "Hold still. Just like that—"
He'd be underprepared if it weren't for the unspoken fact that he's been taking Shaxx's cock so many times (and sometimes, for so long he couldn't fucking walk) it's brought back what was lost in Krauser's absence, all the work of training him to take a man of Krauser's size. Spit and pre isn't much to work with, but the only one with an inkling for how completely fucked up Leon is inside for liking some pain with his pleasure is the man he's with, right now.
Leon links his hands behind the thick column of Krauser's neck, lets him hold his waiting girth steady as the agent rolls his hips, grinding his slick glans over a hole left pink and a little swollen for the attention of his fingers. His eyes steadily darken when Krauser's swollen cockhead begins to breach him, pupils blowing wide at the burn of stretching to swallow his girth, mouth slack around the slow, deep breaths he's struggling to keep even.
Muscle quivers, on his thighs, his stomach, his back, taxed by the slow, slow descent; Leon's hands unlink behind Krauser's neck, one clasping the meat of his shoulder tightly, the other clasping his nape as his chin tips up, eyes brightening with the reflexive moisture pricking at them while he starts to bottom out, leaning back.