The fingers clasping the nape of Krauser's neck sweep up into his slicked back hair, Leon's head tipped back, breathing through the bright, hot fizzle of raw sensation, both the rough stretch it takes to have him hilted so deep and the delicious, rare sense of such fullness, of having no room to think about anything else. Krauser takes from him one more thing, the need to consider gravity's pull on him, replaced by the distraction of his mouth on his sweat-sticky skin.
"Holy shit," is his jagged answer, rattled by the shiver that snakes its way up his body at his rumble in his ear, very nearly a squirm with how his heels drag against the ground while he adjusts. All of it — the heady cocktail of sheer sensation, the self-destructive itch to lean into a discomfort he finds addictive, the aching familiarity — prompts him to move, even though doing so this soon drags a guttural groan out of him when his spine arches back, when the muscles of his thighs bunch to lift him in Krauser's lap and drop him back into it.
No, fuck, he's not quite ready, but that's unstitched his tongue, he still has one fist in his hair while the other arm curls around him, high over his shoulders, hooking his ankles around him like he thinks the man's got somewhere else he needs to be in a hurry. It's, ugh, clingy and needy in ways that will trouble him deeply, once his head is clear enough to wonder what in God's name got into him, that a knife fight turned into fucking on the forest floor.
He just turns his head and hisses into his hair, "Tight and ready for you," has a hairline crack right down the middle, his voice cracking under the strain, "Gonna give it to you the way you love it."
Not right away, not when he needs a little warm-up; Leon extracts a hand from his platinum hair and reaches back to brace his hand on the ground, or on Krauser's knee, whatever offers him the leverage he needs to grind himself down into his lap with a heavy almost side-to-side rock of his hips. His spine is bowed under him, cock swaying heavily against his belly as he shoves his seat down against Krauser's lap, sweat crawling slow down the valley of his pecs, the abdominal muscle knotted over his belly. Leon pants, tongue touching to his upper lip for a moment as he looks down where they're joined, swallowing down some abbreviated sound too close to a whine for his liking.
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"Holy shit," is his jagged answer, rattled by the shiver that snakes its way up his body at his rumble in his ear, very nearly a squirm with how his heels drag against the ground while he adjusts. All of it — the heady cocktail of sheer sensation, the self-destructive itch to lean into a discomfort he finds addictive, the aching familiarity — prompts him to move, even though doing so this soon drags a guttural groan out of him when his spine arches back, when the muscles of his thighs bunch to lift him in Krauser's lap and drop him back into it.
No, fuck, he's not quite ready, but that's unstitched his tongue, he still has one fist in his hair while the other arm curls around him, high over his shoulders, hooking his ankles around him like he thinks the man's got somewhere else he needs to be in a hurry. It's, ugh, clingy and needy in ways that will trouble him deeply, once his head is clear enough to wonder what in God's name got into him, that a knife fight turned into fucking on the forest floor.
He just turns his head and hisses into his hair, "Tight and ready for you," has a hairline crack right down the middle, his voice cracking under the strain, "Gonna give it to you the way you love it."
Not right away, not when he needs a little warm-up; Leon extracts a hand from his platinum hair and reaches back to brace his hand on the ground, or on Krauser's knee, whatever offers him the leverage he needs to grind himself down into his lap with a heavy almost side-to-side rock of his hips. His spine is bowed under him, cock swaying heavily against his belly as he shoves his seat down against Krauser's lap, sweat crawling slow down the valley of his pecs, the abdominal muscle knotted over his belly. Leon pants, tongue touching to his upper lip for a moment as he looks down where they're joined, swallowing down some abbreviated sound too close to a whine for his liking.