[ It's so much. John's body, his movements, are so much. John keening and gasping and babbling his name is so much. Charlie wants badly to cum but he also wants to keep rocking into John forever, but more than both of those he wants to control the pace. So his own movements are steady and forceful, and on a couple of occasions his muscles clench with the focused effort of not tipping over the edge, and he says oh fuck and John with about five syllables apiece because he is barely curating what comes out of his mouth at this point.
His patience isn't infinite, though. So presently he speeds up, a rough note coming out of his throat with each landing in the deepest part of John he can manage. And he goes from holding John's cock to squeezing and pumping it, because fuck, he wants to cum and he wants them to do it together.
[ John is awash in feelings, sensations. Getting fucked is one of them, but there's something to Charlie's words, breathes out to him like the filthiest prophecy, that he can't deny. There's a shudder, more intense than the shaking of his thighs, and his back arches to slam Charlie into exactly the right spot, and then John is doing exactly what he was told.
Charlie will feel it in his hand, feel John lose it, just like he did in his mouth what feels like a lifetime ago, and the slick hot vice grip around Charlie will only intensify as John's mouth opens, he jams one fist in there, and then a thunderous growl at his release. ]
[ John's rib-shaking growl as he cums, and the physical sensations in Charlie's fist and around his cock, are somehow second to the fact that Charlie said to unravel and John did. And all of those things together take Charlie quickly down with him. He says John's name in about three different keys and volumes; his hips judder forwards into John, until the scales tip over into too-sensitive and he comes gently to a standstill, though he doesn't yet pull out.
He breathes deeply and slowly, while shocks like electricity go off here and there under his skin, and he runs his hands down the sweating insides of John's thighs like he's soothing him. He's--
--he catches himself going away and brings himself aggressively back to the present, and above all he tries to not think too much this time. He wants to be here feeling fond and awed and spent. He also doesn't want to be so present that he freaks out. It's a delicate balance, but somehow, he finds, not as difficult as it was last time. Maybe the terror is less when he's so unequivocally setting the pace. ]
[ John pulls his hand out of his mouth, catches the dents in his knuckles, and misses the dimples disappearing as he looks up to watch Charlie, look into his eyes, see him walk that line between here and not, between intense pleasure and satisfaction and the bigger reality.
He'll reach that hand over, just a light pressure on the back of the palm as his chest goes from heaving to something more steady. ]
[ If Charlie is looking, he'll be able to see how much that little kiss somehow makes everything in him flutter despite everything else they've just done. His teeth dent his lower lip as he listens to Charlie's praise and Charlie will feel a soft clench around his soft cock. John... might very much like compliments like that from Charlie. ]
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His patience isn't infinite, though. So presently he speeds up, a rough note coming out of his throat with each landing in the deepest part of John he can manage. And he goes from holding John's cock to squeezing and pumping it, because fuck, he wants to cum and he wants them to do it together.
Rapid, and gasped: ]
You're gonna cum. Cum for me. Do it.
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Charlie will feel it in his hand, feel John lose it, just like he did in his mouth what feels like a lifetime ago, and the slick hot vice grip around Charlie will only intensify as John's mouth opens, he jams one fist in there, and then a thunderous growl at his release. ]
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He breathes deeply and slowly, while shocks like electricity go off here and there under his skin, and he runs his hands down the sweating insides of John's thighs like he's soothing him. He's--
--he catches himself going away and brings himself aggressively back to the present, and above all he tries to not think too much this time. He wants to be here feeling fond and awed and spent. He also doesn't want to be so present that he freaks out. It's a delicate balance, but somehow, he finds, not as difficult as it was last time. Maybe the terror is less when he's so unequivocally setting the pace. ]
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He'll reach that hand over, just a light pressure on the back of the palm as his chest goes from heaving to something more steady. ]
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--and he squashes them firmly to the ground, and turns his hand to grasp John's, and lifts it up, leaning forwards, and kisses it. ]
You were so good. [ His voice isn't anywhere close to the rumble John can achieve, but next to Charlie's speaking voice it's a rumble. ] Jesus Christ.
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