[ good thing sex is the expected norm on these grounds, because otherwise, shiro might have been concerned some deputies would come invesitgating. a scream in a rundown house? pretty suspicious in any other circumstance. luckily for everyone here, shiro doesn’t have the concentration to be amused by his wayward thinking. so he doesn’t slow and he doesn’t laugh; he has no breath for it. he’s too busy reminding himself to take deeper breaths than the shallow, gasping things he’s stuck on. everything runs hot, from actual temperature that leaves him flushed and damp with sheens of sweat, to temperament that pushes him to continue to knock his body hard against the door. it’s an easy fuck, all things considered. all he has to do is lose himself in the rhythm; that’s all that is required of him. he doesn’t have to say anything and he doesn’t have to shell out affection with kisses or looks or grasps of his hands. yes, easy is the right word for it. selfish is too.
shiro finds he both loves it and abhors it.
he drags his fingers in and balls them into fists. he never loses the tight clench but every time he hits deep, he squeezes even tighter to press the short clip of his fingernails into his own flesh. anonymous sounds divine. actually, no, he’s the opposite of divine. sinful, that’s what anonymous is. again, shiro wants to mutter his praise into the door and let anonymous hear how approving and proud shiro is of him, for letting himself go like this. but he can’t. he can’t. it’s such an odd time to feel gutted. he shouldn't feel like that when he’s continually hitting deep. well, as deep as this door will let him.
he can almost feel it, their bodies meeting. the door stands between them, of course, but he likes to pretend it’s anonymous’ ass he’s knocking against. he likes to believe anonymous thinks this way too, with the way he’s sliding back against his thrusts, bumping to the door just as shiro hits. they both want it those few inches deeper. fuck, if this door wasn’t here, he could slide all the way inside and grind his ballsack to anonymous’, the fat head of his cock sitting heavy on his prostate. that isn’t part of their deal but shiro’s lost in the pleasure and so very indulgent on the thought of running his hands over this man, to take his cock in hand and finger each ridge while he fucks him.
his thoughts are working against him. they’re making him want things he can’t have and more damningly, seducing him quicker to the limits of his body. overeager, greedy and a little on the side of touch starved, shiro isn’t going to last at the pace he’s going. does he keep the brutality of this fuck and hope anonymous hits his orgasm first? or does he slow to catch his breath and stem off the mounting pleasure? he never reaches an answer, though, his rhythm does break. just for an entirely different reason.
shi –
it’s a split second. there isn’t time to rationalize anything. he hears shi and his mind goes, somehow conjuring up an allotment of thoughts in the span of one miniscule moment in time.
shiro? is he saying my name? how’d he figure it out? holy shit, he’s going to say my name. he sounds so good saying my name.
– ahh.
his brain doesn’t comprehend it as quickly as it should. he’s half a second shy of reality dousing that feeling of elation. he’s still thinking shiro and that’s why his hips snap even harder, hard enough that he’s going to have a red circle on his crotch. though, the balsa wood fracturing to rip the door off its top hinges helps soften the damage done to himself. he merely fucks through it. it doesn’t matter that the door has a chunk of it separated, nor does it matter that the area around the gloryhole cracks, shiro isn’t going to stop. fuck the door, he’s sick of it being in the way anyway. ]
this is so stupid but i feel compelled to follow thru w the shitpost
shiro finds he both loves it and abhors it.
he drags his fingers in and balls them into fists. he never loses the tight clench but every time he hits deep, he squeezes even tighter to press the short clip of his fingernails into his own flesh. anonymous sounds divine. actually, no, he’s the opposite of divine. sinful, that’s what anonymous is. again, shiro wants to mutter his praise into the door and let anonymous hear how approving and proud shiro is of him, for letting himself go like this. but he can’t. he can’t. it’s such an odd time to feel gutted. he shouldn't feel like that when he’s continually hitting deep. well, as deep as this door will let him.
he can almost feel it, their bodies meeting. the door stands between them, of course, but he likes to pretend it’s anonymous’ ass he’s knocking against. he likes to believe anonymous thinks this way too, with the way he’s sliding back against his thrusts, bumping to the door just as shiro hits. they both want it those few inches deeper. fuck, if this door wasn’t here, he could slide all the way inside and grind his ballsack to anonymous’, the fat head of his cock sitting heavy on his prostate. that isn’t part of their deal but shiro’s lost in the pleasure and so very indulgent on the thought of running his hands over this man, to take his cock in hand and finger each ridge while he fucks him.
his thoughts are working against him. they’re making him want things he can’t have and more damningly, seducing him quicker to the limits of his body. overeager, greedy and a little on the side of touch starved, shiro isn’t going to last at the pace he’s going. does he keep the brutality of this fuck and hope anonymous hits his orgasm first? or does he slow to catch his breath and stem off the mounting pleasure? he never reaches an answer, though, his rhythm does break. just for an entirely different reason.
shi –
it’s a split second. there isn’t time to rationalize anything. he hears shi and his mind goes, somehow conjuring up an allotment of thoughts in the span of one miniscule moment in time.
shiro?
is he saying my name?
how’d he figure it out?
holy shit, he’s going to say my name.
he sounds so good saying my name.
– ahh.
his brain doesn’t comprehend it as quickly as it should. he’s half a second shy of reality dousing that feeling of elation. he’s still thinking shiro and that’s why his hips snap even harder, hard enough that he’s going to have a red circle on his crotch. though, the balsa wood fracturing to rip the door off its top hinges helps soften the damage done to himself. he merely fucks through it. it doesn’t matter that the door has a chunk of it separated, nor does it matter that the area around the gloryhole cracks, shiro isn’t going to stop. fuck the door, he’s sick of it being in the way anyway. ]