extendedmetaphor | (no subject)

"So far," he said, his voice a little unsteady. He's intensely and completely aware of the throb of his cock. "I...don't know what you must think of me. I must look...'

“Positively edible,” Guy finished for him. His hand found his cock then, quite suddenly, he took his balls in hand.

His heels dug into the bed as he rocked into the touch, moaning. Oh, God - the though that Guy was still fully clothed occurred to him and made him tremble.

"You love this, don't you?" He asked, swallowing. "Me completely at your mercy."

"Oh yes," Guy confessed easily. "And you love this. Being at the mercy of, don't you?" He asked, wondering if he could make his vocal capacities stop completely by the way he was massaging him.

Not quite, but close. It was a long moment before Irwin could answer at all, breathing through the squeeze of Guy's fingers against his balls.

"How can you tell?" he finally managed, not quite sounding nonchalant. "You still haven't told me exactly what you like. I'd...like to hear you say it."

It was British awkwardness turned racy and Guy loved it. "I want you incoherent," he replied. "Unable to beg, but desperate, unable to utter the simplest word, but close, so close, that you fear you might burn. But it won't happen then, I won't let you come. Because I want to feel you when you do."

"Oh, God."

He felt like he was saying that again, but he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't incoherent, not yet, but he was finding it very difficult to think past Guy's hand and where it's resting.

"You think I'm this easily undone?"

"I like a challenge," Guy retorted, as his hand began again, after a momentary pause. while his mouth found a nipple. He was clearly not incoherent yet. That would need to change.

He could feel his own cock throb with anticipation, which was part of the excitement. But patience was virtue and this he had thoroughly missed.

Because he could, he rocked his hips, pressing into Guy's touch, the hand stroking his cock and playing with his balls. His breath shivered out.

"I could be a challenge," he said, his mouth going on ahead of him.

When Tom spoke, Guy bit down on the nipple. His voice was far too steady for his liking, and his play turned a little rougher. He liked a challenge, and he wouldn't lose.

The sharp, sudden pain made his cock throb and his hips jerk, a loud moan spilling out of him. His fingers clenched, made fists.

"Is that all you've got?" He asked, but there was a more definite tremble to his voice.

At first Guy had thought him a very repressed and very awkward Brit. This was like unwrapping a nice, decent-looking gift to find unexpectedly that there was delightful wickedness underneath.

He didn't answer the question in words, but in teeth and nails digging in every sensitive spot, trailing, sucking, each a little deeper than the previous.

It was very, very nearly too much. The moaning was nearly constant now, spilling out him one after the other.

"Oh, please..." He whimpered.

Begging was good, but not good enough. The moaning became nearly painful to him, as his cock responded to it, desperately wanting to come out and play.

"Oh please what?" He managed to say between administrations.

"Please something," Irwin managed to force out between gritted teeth, barely focusing passed the constant manipulation of his cock, the ache in his balls and the wet heat of Guy's mouth across his nipples. "Please your mouth or your hand unless you want me to come in your hand like a kid."

"Still sounding awfully coherent to me," Guy replied, almost a shrug and continued his administrations making very carefully very sure that the other wouldn't - couldn't - come.

It was maddening - to be on the edge and not quite able to get there because Guy wouldn't let him. His hands clenched again, nails digging lightly into his palms.

"Surprised you didn't gag me too, you're so keen to shut...me...up."

"Gagging would be cheating," Guy explained, huskily against Tom's skin. "In this particular case," he added with a wicked grin.

Then, quite suddenly he licked the other's cock, base to tip, before taking him in mouth.

In the struggle not to come immediately into the wet heat of Guy's mouth, Irwin tried to remember the last time that someone sucked his cock. It had been months, definitely - before he arrived in Yorkshire, for certain. He rolled his hips, unashamedly thrusting further past Guy's lips.

"That's better," he said, determined to play the brat for as long as possible. As long as he could.

Not a very smart move on Tom's behalf, as he would learn, because Guy did nothing to allow the other to come. A little more force, a little more teeth, but never an increase in pace. His hand found his arse and one finger pressed, lightly, teasingly, as his other hand squeezed a little harder, the balls it was holding.

He whimpered, squirming his hips hopelessly between Guy's mouth and his hands. He bit his lip over an even louder moan. He wasn't sure that he'd ever been so very hard and so very desperate.

The thought that they might be only just getting started made him shiver.

There were gasps and moans, but no cocky words. This was a good sign. The body squirmed underneath him, begging, wanting, but it got only just enough to make it want more. He swallowed deeper, pushed further, rasped his teeth along the shaft, pushed in another slicked finger.

It felt like he was right on the edge of it, teetering, desperate, breath sobbing in and out as he rocked his hips, pushing into Guy's mouth, barely even aware of how deep he might be thrusting.

"Oh, God," he whimpered. "Can I?"

Guy took a moment to pause, and to push Tom's hips into the mattress, holding him still. "Can I, what?" He asked.

The breath of breeze across the damp skin of his cock was so distracting that, for a moment, he couldn't even speak. He swallowed hard, fingers flexing, head turned towards the sound of Guy's voice.

"God. Please. Can I come?"