Rowan Rallies-Protests (
ralliesprotests) wrote2010-07-11 07:41 am
Ainmhian IC Inbox

Good afternoon, you've reached Rowan Lewis at Gay Agenda dot Com.
Unfortunately it's no longer the 90s, so feel free to leave a message after the beep but I ain't gonna check it.
Text me like a normal person. BEEP.

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“Fuck, Edgar, that was hot. You’re so hot.” They murmur, breathlessly, nosing into his inner thigh as they look up at him. A warm flush has spread over their collar, a sign of their own arousal.
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There aren't words for it. He leans down, bringing his hands up to cradle their face between his palms, and kisses them deeply.
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And then cracks a tiny wicked grin and topples both of them over sideways, onto the bed.
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"So what's your plan now?" They ask, smirking across at him, as they take advantage of the position to reach around him and slide their hands under his loose trousers, grabbing his arse and squeezing playfully.
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Making it up as he goes along evidently involves leaning to kiss Rowan's neck, if they'll let him.
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Slowly, his mouth moves lower, trailing warm wet kisses over the pit of their throat and the delicate armature of their collarbones. His hands roam over their back, kneading lightly.
If nothing stops him, he'll move down to a nipple and take it gently into his mouth.
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And when he reaches a nipple, they moan loudly, arching up into his mouth. Their hand reaches for his head, burying their fingers in his hair and resisting the urge to tense and tug on it. They're sensitive there, and they have no reason to hide it.
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At Rowan's moan, he smiles a little against their skin, then runs his tongue around their nipple and suckles gently for a few moments, before trailing his mouth across to the other nipple.
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So that his hand has enough space to slip around to the front of Rowan's body, his palm pressing flat against their lower belly -- and hesitating, long enough for Rowan to tell him no if they want to, before sliding down between their thighs.
He has only a vague idea what he's going to find there, but his sole concession to that is keeping his movements slow, exploratory, careful.
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In the meantime, he draws his mouth away from their nipple, only far enough to blow a cooling breath over it.
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Giving in, freeing their hand from Edgar's hair and reach down between them to slide both trousers and pants off their hips, pushing them down as far as they can, and then wiggling one leg free so they can open themself up for him more, presenting themself for Edgar to explore.
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On the other hand ... repositioning himself means that now he can pay much closer attention, and his mouth begins to trail down Rowan's belly, following the path his hand took a few moments ago.
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"Love how you sound," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to the skin just above their navel -- and then, on impulse, traces his tongue around it. "Love how you taste."
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"Only fair, 'cos I loved having your cock in my mouth." They purr, jumping straight to crude. But they mean it; half the work was already done for him, just by his reactions to them and his own pleasure.
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And then slides down lower, and a little lower, and finally brings his mouth into place to run his tongue through Rowan's folds in a long, slow stroke.
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They cry out loudly, arching into him and parting their legs more to give him better access. The leg wrapped around him, is now draped over his shoulder instead, and they use it and the hand in his hair to lightly push him into them, desperate for more. "Fuck, Edgar!"
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