Wilhelm is definitely out of his head now. He's practically in orbit, spinning circles around the room without having to leave the bed at all. His inexperience — eroding his endurance, all of him burning up like a meteorite crashing through the atmosphere — makes a slow pace wise. It gives him a chance to float. Suspended here in this moment, nothing exists beyond the heat of Jesper's mouth and hand, the squeeze of his tongue and throat, the pleasure pooling like magma under Wilhelm's skin.
Losing himself in the rhythm Jesper sets, he thrusts upward when his mouth slides down his shaft, groans when his cock nestles deep in his throat. Sometimes he throws his head back against the pillow, hair spilling all over, breath bobbing up and down, and sometimes he watches Jesper with heavy, hazy eyes. Those gorgeous lips, full of him. That dangerous tongue, tasting him, teasing him.
His hands weave into Jesper's hair. Clutch at his shoulders, palming the gun inked onto his bicep for encouragement. Trace his jaw and cheek, fingers contemplating his own hardness sheathed inside that soft skin.
Fuck.
He's not sure if he just thinks that or actually says it aloud — or something caught halfway between. Like the rest of him, hurtling through all the layers of the stratosphere.
"Jes...Jesper," he pleads, pulling lightly on his hair. He's close. He's close, he's close, he's close.
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Date: 2022-11-20 04:06 am (UTC)Losing himself in the rhythm Jesper sets, he thrusts upward when his mouth slides down his shaft, groans when his cock nestles deep in his throat. Sometimes he throws his head back against the pillow, hair spilling all over, breath bobbing up and down, and sometimes he watches Jesper with heavy, hazy eyes. Those gorgeous lips, full of him. That dangerous tongue, tasting him, teasing him.
His hands weave into Jesper's hair. Clutch at his shoulders, palming the gun inked onto his bicep for encouragement. Trace his jaw and cheek, fingers contemplating his own hardness sheathed inside that soft skin.
Fuck.
He's not sure if he just thinks that or actually says it aloud — or something caught halfway between. Like the rest of him, hurtling through all the layers of the stratosphere.
"Jes...Jesper," he pleads, pulling lightly on his hair. He's close. He's close, he's close, he's close.