“Enough,” Misha says, taking firm hold of Sebastian’s hips and pulling him close.
Sebastian hums, smiles, and allows him to steal a sucking kiss before responding, “what, didn’t appreciate my show for your benefit??”
“Driving me crazy,” Misha rocks against Sebastian, making him gasp, “the way your hips move, the way your ass wiggles.”
“Fuck,” Sebastian mutters, groaning and pushing himself into the hot cradle of Misha’s hips, “all right then, take what you want.”
“What I want,” Misha hisses, lips stretching into a grin, “is for you to want it for a while” — and he’s pulling away, walking down the hall, wiggling his ass back and forth tantalizingly and causing Sebastian, after a moment of stunned paralysis, to go chasing after him.
“And I’m supposed to believe you’re a real angel,” Jack says, to which Balthazar’s reply is “Think what you want, but you have to admit, it’s an appealing possibility.”
“That I will, friend,” Jack says, and reaches out to caress Balthazar’s hip; the way Balthazar sucks in a breath is decidedly un-angelic, but the way he appeared is certainly not normal human territory.
So Jack’s torn as to just what he’s dealing with, but he does know he’d like to do a lot more than deal with it; they’ve been dancing around the idea for more than a few minutes here, and Jack’s reaching fuck-it-and-just-kiss-me levels of frustration. Balthazar’s there before Jack can reach him, though, kissing him with tremendous, lascivious passion, and from there on it’s all clothes-shedding and skin-caressing and moans.
Jack sees stars when Balthazar enters him, and as they fuck, he forgets that he was only bottoming so he could use the phrase “fucked by an angel” in locker-room talk; this is a good fucking, and he’s had more than a few… hell, he might even call the curve of Balthazar’s cock inside him “divine.”
“Please, please Rory, let me come.” Dean had been particularly smart with Rory today; he could only put up with so much of Dean’s whining and swagger, after all, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it. That was how Dean had ended up sprawled on the bed, tied by the wrists and ankles with a vibrator shoved up his slick ass, Rory fiddling with the remote control absent-mindedly so that there was no pattern, no rhyme or reason to the sensations filling Dean. “I—I’ll do anything, I s-swear to God.”
“You’ll keep your mouth shut, is what you’ll do. That’s how you got in this mess, remember?” Dean swallowed and tried to remain silent, pursing his lips into a determined sneer. “Much better.” Rory stood over Dean and smiled kindly, touching the head of his leaking cock gingerly and twisting the vibrator inside of him with his other hand. “Now, try to stay that way while I take care of myself.” Dean groaned loudly through his teeth as Rory moved away again, unzipping his own trousers and sighing happily, his fist closed around his own cock and his eyes fixed on the weeping mess of Dean before him.
Matt’s a big, strong man; he’s solid and he’s anchored; and he doesn’t often feel as though he’s floating in space, completely untethered to anything like sanity. But right now, with Richard’s and Rob’s hands and mouths locked on him, he can’t find a lifeline — he’s all lifting hips and arching back, all shouts and ardent tosses of his head, completely unmoored. Richard’s squeezing the shaft of his dick gently, interspersing soft twisting strokes with harder locks, and his mouth is on Matt’s neck, sucking gentle marks and biting and flickering his tongue against every inch of exposed skin. And Rob, his legs locked around Matt’s shoulders, cock hard and rubbing against Matt’s chest to leave a sticky trail, is licking and teasing at the head of Matt’s cock, in tandem with Richard’s strokes and squeezes. Matt’s never been so hard in his life, but every time he feels the swell of orgasm starting, they ease off him bite at his thighs and stroke up his ribcage to tease his nipples instead, and Matt thinks he’ll go insane with the teasing; either that, or he’ll just lose it entirely and come untouched against the constant madness of their touch.
Clint pushes Tony against the wall and mutters as he leans his forehead against Tony’s, “I was not… what was the word you used?… preening.”
“Call it what you want, then,” Tony says with a grin, kissing at Clint’s tight-lipped mouth between words, “but the way you were stretching out, letting me see the definition of your muscles… I was just making what you might call an ornithological observation.”
His fingers tighten around Clint’s shoulders, pulling him in, and Clint’s hard-on pokes against his stomach; Tony’s eyes widen. “Another observation,” he notes, and Clint’s mouth lands on his to stop any further bird metaphors.
Still, as Clint leans over Tony later in the night, and Tony runs his hands up and down the bulge of muscles in Clint’s arms, Clint can’t seem to mind lingering a little longer… preening, even… to let Tony appreciate him further.
“What is this strange device?” Arthur took the thing into his hand; it was long, soft to the touch, and very similar to a…his cheeks flushed at the thought.
“It’s a vibrator, Arthur. Want to see how it works?” Now Arthur understood—this Merlin, just as he remembered him (though dressed so strangely) must have created some new magic, and if it was anything like his old magic, he was sure to enjoy it. Merlin unzipped Arthur’s new breeches—jeans, they were called—and pulled them to his ankles, then took the vibrator and twisted the end; a loud whirring noise emitted from it, and Arthur was about to question it when Merlin pressed it to the base of his cock. Immediately, a rush of pure pleasure like electricity ran through Arthur’s body, and he nearly fell to the floor, overwhelmed. “You like that, Your Majesty?”
“Oh, yes…yes, Merlin, please…” The king begged, and Merlin provided, straddling Arthur’s waist and teasing him all afternoon with his “magic”.
“Hmm…go left, there’s a door that will take you straight to the control tower.” Bond grunted in reply and went on, and Q sighed, twiddling a pen around his finger; this was perhaps one of the dullest missions Bond had been sent on—only two casualties and a short tryst in the backseat of his car—and he was frankly bored out of his mind. “So, what do you want to do when you get back?”
“Hmm, I don’t know, Q. Now isn’t really the time to think about that.” Q chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair and audibly unzipping his trousers, knowing that Bond would hear it on the other end.
“Oh, I think it’s the perfect time. Well, I know exactly what I want to do when you get back. I want to climb you like a hungry animal and fuck myself on your cock.” Q murmured into the microphone as he palmed himself, a tiny whimper escaping his throat from the pleasure of his own touch. “And when I’ve done that, I’ll turn over and let you do it again, and then you’ll clean up the mess you make with your mouth, Bond. Mmm, that is what you do best, clean up messes…ah…” Q lost his words for a moment, allowing his moans and soft gasps to do the talking for him.
“For God’s sake, Q…” Bond growled, but there was no heat in it, and Q knew perfectly well that he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“What are you going to do—tie me up with it? Gag me?” Bond looked up at his Quartermaster from his kneeling position beside the bed, and Q tapped his chin as if thinking; he had to admit, the wait was getting exasperating—Q had forced him to watch as he touched himself, and listening to his moans and gasps of pleasure without having a hand in it had put him in a rather uncomfortable position. Q could be a terror sometimes, and this was no exception. “For God’s sake, make up your mind.”
“Patience, my sweet double-oh. I think you’ll like my proposition.” With nimble fingers, Q wrapped the tie around his own eyes—much to James’ surprise—and laid back onto the mattress. “Up until now, you’ve been so well-behaved. Why don’t you relieve yourself?” Bond’s eyes widened, and for a moment he thought there’d be a catch; rarely was Q so unconditionally generous, but he didn’t take back his word, and so Bond took the invitation gratefully, rising to his feet as fast as his old knees would allow and descending upon Q, lavishing his body with kisses and touches and bites.
“Now you’re going to have to be the patient one, Q.” He rasped into Q’s ear as he took his cock into his hand, easing it toward Q’s parted lips.
Brad could feel Walt’s horndog interest when he came into the garage; he didn’t even have to turn around to feel Walt sidling up into his air, his heat-seeking hard-on taking the place of any small talk.
Brad ignored him for now, tightening the bolt on his motorcycle’s carburetor and letting Walt simmer in his own juices; he shrugged off the hand that petted down his bicep and pretended he didn’t feel the brush of Walt’s tongue when he tasted the sweat at the center of Brad’s bare back.
Then it happened, just like Brad knew it was going to, just like he’d been baiting: Walt’s shoved his bulge hard against Brad’s ass and a whining growl rose out of him.
“Don’t fuckin’ ignore me,” Walt rasped, lust heavy in his voice; he flipped Brad around, shoving him hard against the tool bench and rubbing against him. His tongue was in Brad’s mouth, silencing his laugh, and his calloused hand was in Brad’s shorts, desperate to jerk him off hard and fast.
Brad breathed slowly through his nose, trying to maintain some self-control as Walt did his best to shatter it. Walt had fucked his fingers in across Brad’s tongue and then used the saliva to warm his hole up with swirling touches around the already reddening rim; Brad had sucked down a throatful of his own spit to keep from choking, his mouth watering at the sight. Walt flipped, facing Brad’s feet to give him a better look as the tip of the plug breached his ass little by little, every one of Walt’s stuttered, pleased exhales sweeping along the tense, throbbing, unattended length of Brad’s cock. He pushed it inside with a satisfied hiss, stretching himself around the widest portion until his ass swallowed it in a swift motion to the constriction; Brad wanted to pull it out and shove his tongue inside instead, to let Walt ride his face until he was wide open and ready to take Brad’s dick in a single, hard thrust.
“Enjoying the show?” Walt asked, laughing at Brad’s frustrated grunt before reaching between them to push his cock downward in a slow, teasing stroke that left a cooling streak of precum on Brad’s abs.
