if it wasn't so late, if august wasn't so drunk, nick might examine those three little words with an intensity that he isn't prepared for right now, having bared far too much of his soul in this conversation already. but it is late, and august is drunk, and nick has already said so much. what's a little more, really? ]
I'm glad you came here tonight. I'm glad you're here. [ nick murmurs the words right back, pausing here and there to keep kissing august, because it's honestly too hard to choose between the things he wants to say and august's mouth, soft and sleepy and sweet.
he could probably come like this, honestly, just from rutting against him like a horny teenager and august's words, poured right into his mouth. nick keeps them to something approximating a rhythm, hand steady on august's hips as he adjusts the angle of his own to get a better grind against his hard cock, and all the while he keeps talking. ] I just want you, right here, in my bed, with me. I want to wake up and you're already fucking me. I want to fall asleep with your cock in in my mouth. I want to feel your body next to mine, all the time.
[ he wants to wake up to august's face on the pillow next to his, fall asleep watching his hair tumble across his forehead, wants to lace their fingers together as they're drifting off and wake up to their hands still clasped together, but those are...too much for nick to do anything other than think it, really hard, and hope that's enough to keep them from spilling out as well. ]
[there is a part of him that feels so nurtured here in Nick's arms, and he's eating everything he says up. he's always sexually frustrated around him, it doesn't matter if they haven't talked or if they fucked the night before. he could be dreaming that all of this is happening, that he asked him to keep talking when usually August is doing everything to make sure only broken noises leave his mouth.
he's not one to whine or beg, he bites those noises down and brings his hand to Nick's hip -- to help, or to just have more to hold on to, he doesn't know -- and keeps up with the rhythm as much as he can, but his own hips are jerking every so often for more, and precome is sticking to his skin. there's so much already, like he's been holding back for so long and his cock is weeping from the lack of release. reality bends in his half-conscious state and he's thinking about Nick's mouth, being inside him, keeping him, using him, owning him.
he breathes out encouragements, 'just like that, keep going keep going, good, good you're so good, i wanna be inside of you-'
he wasn't sure anything was going to happen before, but now the pleasure is almost painful, and he's getting off from being wanted and the image Nick is painting for him.]
Fuck, can you— [he doesn't know what he's asking for. he's going to, he's-] you're gonna make me come.
[ nick doesn't need to be told twice — doesn't need to be asked at all, actually. august stutters out can you and nick is already moving, dropping the grip on august's hip so that he can drag a wet tongue across his palm. not much, nothing showy or tantalising like he might usually put on just to see august's pupils dilate as he watches, just wet enough that he can push a hand down into his waistband, wrap his fingers around august's cock. ]
I want you here all the time.
[ he's whispering now, like they're at some risk of being heard, like he's sharing secrets--in a way he is, he can't help but let the thoughts that he's been holding so close to his chest tumble out. not when he has august like this, loose and messy in his arms, sleepy and drunk and still slurring praise out for nick between moans.
how can he not tell him everything? or at least as much as nick can possibly risk exposing, without spilling it all out. nick strokes the hard length of him, a slower pace at first, but quickly building as he keeps whispering. ]
Everything is always better when you're around. I don't ever want a break from you. Anytime you want me, I'll be there. Any time.
[the minor interruption sets him back, but it's not enough of a hiccup to set him off course entirely. he's stuck on almost, and knows Nick's hand will bring him where he needs to be. August can't believe he's so weak for him, but yes he can because here he is sloshed in his bed and arms, trying to fuck his hand. they both know it's all he can manage, horny and hot with his mind blurry with drink.
Nicks words sound like a confession, making his heart swell in ways he didn't think he'd ever get to feel. it's the constant reassurance that gets him there, like he's exactly where he's supposed to be. he has nothing to worry about right now, and it's not long before his thrusts become desperate and he can't keep his focus on kissing him or his hands just on one spot of Nick's body.
there's not enough of him there to touch. he's kissing him again, which turns into biting his lower lip, which then turns into a choked out moan and finally he's digging his fingers into his hip — rough enough to bruise — while he rides out his orgasm, spilling into Nick's hand and making a mess of his clothes (and himself). it's — a lot. not that he even realizes it, or knows what's happening after he comes. he's leaning himself completely against Nick's body, pressing their foreheads together, eyes shut and mind blank. all that's left are his shallow whiskey-filled breaths against his face. he loves him, he loves,]
[ nick doesn't let him go right away, still stroking him through his orgasm with long, lazy pumps, until august has all but collapsed in his arms and his cock is softening in nick's palm. even then he entertains the thought of falling asleep exactly like this, august still cupped in hand, but there's self-indulgence and then there's impracticality, so he's gentle and careful as he slides his hand back out of august's underwear.
...he's less gentle and careful when he wipes his palm on the back of august's shirt, but fuck it, it's fine. nick will get him a clean shirt in the morning, after they've showered all this mess away and maybe had a repeat performance or two. he's more concerned with winding both his arms back around august's body now that he has them both free, listening to the pants still coming out of him, feeling his forehead sweaty and warm against his own. ]
Yeah.
[ nick doesn't know what he's agreeing to but he knows that he does, with complete certainty. his eyes close too, and it's maybe the first time where he thinks that this could be enough and really believes it. he doesn't kiss august, just exhales in tandem with him, wonders if their hearts are thudding away in rhythm with each other too. ]
[is all he can manage. a drunk August is one easily manipulated, and here they are half above the covers with his arms loose and heavy around Nick's body. he's agreeing with him and his brows furrow -- did he say the whole thing? did Nick just say yeah in response? -- but his voice is a distant whisper and sleep is swallowing up whatever parts of him are left awake. he can't fight it, cant argue or ask any more questions.
he's out within a few minutes, forehead still pressed against his, the soft exhales of Nick matching his breathing soothing him into a kind dreamland. a kind one is an empty one, and there's nothing waiting for him there in his subconscious tonight. he wakes much later - probably in the early afternoon, to bend Nick over and fuck him into the bed before falling asleep (again). he fills another appetite that day, regular food isn't on the menu.]
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if it wasn't so late, if august wasn't so drunk, nick might examine those three little words with an intensity that he isn't prepared for right now, having bared far too much of his soul in this conversation already. but it is late, and august is drunk, and nick has already said so much. what's a little more, really? ]
I'm glad you came here tonight. I'm glad you're here. [ nick murmurs the words right back, pausing here and there to keep kissing august, because it's honestly too hard to choose between the things he wants to say and august's mouth, soft and sleepy and sweet.
he could probably come like this, honestly, just from rutting against him like a horny teenager and august's words, poured right into his mouth. nick keeps them to something approximating a rhythm, hand steady on august's hips as he adjusts the angle of his own to get a better grind against his hard cock, and all the while he keeps talking. ] I just want you, right here, in my bed, with me. I want to wake up and you're already fucking me. I want to fall asleep with your cock in in my mouth. I want to feel your body next to mine, all the time.
[ he wants to wake up to august's face on the pillow next to his, fall asleep watching his hair tumble across his forehead, wants to lace their fingers together as they're drifting off and wake up to their hands still clasped together, but those are...too much for nick to do anything other than think it, really hard, and hope that's enough to keep them from spilling out as well. ]
no subject
he's not one to whine or beg, he bites those noises down and brings his hand to Nick's hip -- to help, or to just have more to hold on to, he doesn't know -- and keeps up with the rhythm as much as he can, but his own hips are jerking every so often for more, and precome is sticking to his skin. there's so much already, like he's been holding back for so long and his cock is weeping from the lack of release. reality bends in his half-conscious state and he's thinking about Nick's mouth, being inside him, keeping him, using him, owning him.
he breathes out encouragements, 'just like that, keep going keep going, good, good you're so good, i wanna be inside of you-'
he wasn't sure anything was going to happen before, but now the pleasure is almost painful, and he's getting off from being wanted and the image Nick is painting for him.]
Fuck, can you— [he doesn't know what he's asking for. he's going to, he's-] you're gonna make me come.
no subject
I want you here all the time.
[ he's whispering now, like they're at some risk of being heard, like he's sharing secrets--in a way he is, he can't help but let the thoughts that he's been holding so close to his chest tumble out. not when he has august like this, loose and messy in his arms, sleepy and drunk and still slurring praise out for nick between moans.
how can he not tell him everything? or at least as much as nick can possibly risk exposing, without spilling it all out. nick strokes the hard length of him, a slower pace at first, but quickly building as he keeps whispering. ]
Everything is always better when you're around. I don't ever want a break from you. Anytime you want me, I'll be there. Any time.
no subject
Nicks words sound like a confession, making his heart swell in ways he didn't think he'd ever get to feel. it's the constant reassurance that gets him there, like he's exactly where he's supposed to be. he has nothing to worry about right now, and it's not long before his thrusts become desperate and he can't keep his focus on kissing him or his hands just on one spot of Nick's body.
there's not enough of him there to touch. he's kissing him again, which turns into biting his lower lip, which then turns into a choked out moan and finally he's digging his fingers into his hip — rough enough to bruise — while he rides out his orgasm, spilling into Nick's hand and making a mess of his clothes (and himself). it's — a lot. not that he even realizes it, or knows what's happening after he comes. he's leaning himself completely against Nick's body, pressing their foreheads together, eyes shut and mind blank. all that's left are his shallow whiskey-filled breaths against his face. he loves him, he loves,]
— You.
no subject
...he's less gentle and careful when he wipes his palm on the back of august's shirt, but fuck it, it's fine. nick will get him a clean shirt in the morning, after they've showered all this mess away and maybe had a repeat performance or two. he's more concerned with winding both his arms back around august's body now that he has them both free, listening to the pants still coming out of him, feeling his forehead sweaty and warm against his own. ]
Yeah.
[ nick doesn't know what he's agreeing to but he knows that he does, with complete certainty. his eyes close too, and it's maybe the first time where he thinks that this could be enough and really believes it. he doesn't kiss august, just exhales in tandem with him, wonders if their hearts are thudding away in rhythm with each other too. ]
Go to sleep, I've got you.
🎀
[is all he can manage. a drunk August is one easily manipulated, and here they are half above the covers with his arms loose and heavy around Nick's body. he's agreeing with him and his brows furrow -- did he say the whole thing? did Nick just say yeah in response? -- but his voice is a distant whisper and sleep is swallowing up whatever parts of him are left awake. he can't fight it, cant argue or ask any more questions.
he's out within a few minutes, forehead still pressed against his, the soft exhales of Nick matching his breathing soothing him into a kind dreamland. a kind one is an empty one, and there's nothing waiting for him there in his subconscious tonight. he wakes much later - probably in the early afternoon, to bend Nick over and fuck him into the bed before falling asleep (again). he fills another appetite that day, regular food isn't on the menu.]