Sean could barely think. Up, down, left, right, they all blurred into each other. When he was pushed into the mirror, he was almost startled to find that it was hard and cold against him, and Christian pressed in closer, drove deeper inside him. Sean sobbed - in pain, in humiliation, in need - twisted his hips and only got the reward of whiplash cool stimulation for the effort. He could feel himself not only blanking everything but going blind, and even the weight of Christian's words was a stimulation he could hardly bear. He heard them, but they didn't make much sense, like the stroking against him that was just wild sensation and could have been from fingers or erection, hot poker or a sharp gouging knife for all he could comprehend the differences.
He felt every word, but couldn't understand what they were, and only a few scant words made sense in his head right now: 'Christian', 'Please' and 'Fuck.' He spoke them all eagerly and profusely, under his breath and inside them, stumbling over each other as he stared at himself with wild eyes, stared at Christian where the other man leant over his shoulder with his sly dark eyes and his hair wet, clinging to his forehead, sweat dripping off the tip of his long nose.
And then Christian came, and it may have been belated to him, but to Sean it was an explosion of heat and pressure inside, hot and wet and slick, Christian's come painting his insides with a hot spurting brush that seemed to go deeper than anything else ever had. Sean bucked back, rolled his head over Christian's shoulder and wailed, low and loud, and Christian pulled his hair back the rest of the way, so that he couldn't see himself any more, and that was fine because his eyes were closed and everything was blindingly white. He whimpered.
Sean began to crumble, but the weight of Christian was against him, holding him up, and he was holding Christian up too, and his eyes were wide and sightless. Christian filled him up again with his rough, hard hand, and despite his efforts to keep everything in fine, a fine line of come, turned cold, ran down the inside of his thigh. Sean shivered at the feeling, Christian's fingers twisting inside him, seeming to push through him and against the palm of the hand that flattened against his stomach.
There were tears rolling down his face now, and he tried to speak, only to be too clogged up with his sobbing to speak out loud. He moaned, long and low, and his head kept spinning, and the words began to tumble out, breaths of words, words he couldn't understand. His mouth was like dust and his head was clogged with wet sponge and his face burned and his cock stung, and Sean cried as the words fell out.
"Please Christian. Please, I need to come. Please. Oh god. Don't. Please let me come. If you love me let me come. Oh god, oh god."
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He felt every word, but couldn't understand what they were, and only a few scant words made sense in his head right now: 'Christian', 'Please' and 'Fuck.' He spoke them all eagerly and profusely, under his breath and inside them, stumbling over each other as he stared at himself with wild eyes, stared at Christian where the other man leant over his shoulder with his sly dark eyes and his hair wet, clinging to his forehead, sweat dripping off the tip of his long nose.
And then Christian came, and it may have been belated to him, but to Sean it was an explosion of heat and pressure inside, hot and wet and slick, Christian's come painting his insides with a hot spurting brush that seemed to go deeper than anything else ever had. Sean bucked back, rolled his head over Christian's shoulder and wailed, low and loud, and Christian pulled his hair back the rest of the way, so that he couldn't see himself any more, and that was fine because his eyes were closed and everything was blindingly white. He whimpered.
Sean began to crumble, but the weight of Christian was against him, holding him up, and he was holding Christian up too, and his eyes were wide and sightless. Christian filled him up again with his rough, hard hand, and despite his efforts to keep everything in fine, a fine line of come, turned cold, ran down the inside of his thigh. Sean shivered at the feeling, Christian's fingers twisting inside him, seeming to push through him and against the palm of the hand that flattened against his stomach.
There were tears rolling down his face now, and he tried to speak, only to be too clogged up with his sobbing to speak out loud. He moaned, long and low, and his head kept spinning, and the words began to tumble out, breaths of words, words he couldn't understand. His mouth was like dust and his head was clogged with wet sponge and his face burned and his cock stung, and Sean cried as the words fell out.
"Please Christian. Please, I need to come. Please. Oh god. Don't. Please let me come. If you love me let me come. Oh god, oh god."