FILL - Turn Of A Screw, Brian/Justin, R (will most likely get NC-17), [Part 4a/4]
Brian's fingers dig into Justin's hips as his pace quickens, becomes harder. With each push forward, Justin's knees bump against the car, and he has to shift his weight slightly so he won't skid across the hood. This car, beautiful as it is, really wasn't designed to be fuck on. Or in, Justin presumes.
A hard slap on his ass brings Justin out of his reverie. And what's he doing here musing anyway? Especially when he has the most glorious cock up his ass, and gets fucked by the hottest guy he has ever laid eyes on.
One of Brian's hands slides up Justin's back, fingers curling into his t-shirt for a better hold. He thrusts in earnest now, driving for release.
Justin snakes a hand down to his own cock, wrapping his fingers around his shaft, and starts to stroke himself to the rhythm. He won't last much longer, Brian hitting just the right spot inside him simply feels too good. And something – maybe the guttural moan and grunts – tell him that Brian is close as well.
When Brian leans over him, changing the angle, Justin comes. It just hits him, almost takes him by surprise. He spills himself over his hand, the hood of the 'vette and Brian's coat. Blood rushes in his ears and for a second, his vision goes blank. It feels like he can't stop coming, especially when Brian is taking him even harder now.
Justin's ass has tightened around him, but Brian pushes against the slight resistance. His hands slams down on the hood next to Justin's head as he comes. His body becomes entirely rigid, and he buries himself deeper inside Justin as if to mark him.
They stay like that for what seems like minutes before Brian slowly pulls out. Justin gasps when he suddenly feels empty. His arms and legs are entirely too wobbly as he tries to finally push himself upright.
"That was..." he begins but words fail him.
"Yeah," Brian replies with equal eloquence as he disposes the condom in a nearby trash can.
"Sorry about your coat." Justin holds up the piece of clothing, soiled with his cum.
Brian zips up his pants and rearranges his clothes. "My dry cleaners have seen worse."
Justin grins at that. "I can imagine that." He pulls his coveralls up and uses one of the sleeves to wipe some more of his cum off the hood.
Brian grabs the coat from Justin's hand and tosses it on the passenger seat. "So, how much to do I owe you?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-10-28 10:25 pm (UTC)Brian's fingers dig into Justin's hips as his pace quickens, becomes harder. With each push forward, Justin's knees bump against the car, and he has to shift his weight slightly so he won't skid across the hood. This car, beautiful as it is, really wasn't designed to be fuck on. Or in, Justin presumes.
A hard slap on his ass brings Justin out of his reverie. And what's he doing here musing anyway? Especially when he has the most glorious cock up his ass, and gets fucked by the hottest guy he has ever laid eyes on.
One of Brian's hands slides up Justin's back, fingers curling into his t-shirt for a better hold. He thrusts in earnest now, driving for release.
Justin snakes a hand down to his own cock, wrapping his fingers around his shaft, and starts to stroke himself to the rhythm. He won't last much longer, Brian hitting just the right spot inside him simply feels too good. And something – maybe the guttural moan and grunts – tell him that Brian is close as well.
When Brian leans over him, changing the angle, Justin comes. It just hits him, almost takes him by surprise. He spills himself over his hand, the hood of the 'vette and Brian's coat. Blood rushes in his ears and for a second, his vision goes blank. It feels like he can't stop coming, especially when Brian is taking him even harder now.
Justin's ass has tightened around him, but Brian pushes against the slight resistance. His hands slams down on the hood next to Justin's head as he comes. His body becomes entirely rigid, and he buries himself deeper inside Justin as if to mark him.
They stay like that for what seems like minutes before Brian slowly pulls out. Justin gasps when he suddenly feels empty. His arms and legs are entirely too wobbly as he tries to finally push himself upright.
"That was..." he begins but words fail him.
"Yeah," Brian replies with equal eloquence as he disposes the condom in a nearby trash can.
"Sorry about your coat." Justin holds up the piece of clothing, soiled with his cum.
Brian zips up his pants and rearranges his clothes. "My dry cleaners have seen worse."
Justin grins at that. "I can imagine that." He pulls his coveralls up and uses one of the sleeves to wipe some more of his cum off the hood.
Brian grabs the coat from Justin's hand and tosses it on the passenger seat. "So, how much to do I owe you?"