The world spun sidewards, and at once, from one move to another, he found himself with his back to the glass, and what had been his own desperate wild eyes a moment before was changed to a new focus. He looked down at Christian's desperate, wild eyes, and swore as he understood what the other man was preparing to do, and his own hands struggled to find purchase, any purchase, and eventually wrapped tightly around each other, nails digging into knuckles, hips bucking once desperately, backward, as Christian shoved his fingers back in.
Everything was black with a whirling whiteness that wasn't visible but was in fact a sound made solid, the sound of whirring orgasm like a thousand waves crushing against a shore, seizing up a little boat - and he was the boat - and promising it twisted, ruination as it was crushed into oblivion. He rose on those waves, and was enshrouded in their blinding, wet heat as Christian's mouth slammed home around him, as his cock brushed the back of the other man's mouth and those hard fingers drove up with blinding accuracy not to brush but to stab at his sensitive prostrate.
And he rose high on those waves--
His orgasm was agony and pleasure at once. His tortured balls constricted hard, like the fist of a strongman knotting in his gut, forcing everything out of him, and the space through which it all tried to pass at once was so narrow, and so blindingly sensitive that Sean let out a savage roar in its passing--nothing, not even a gag, could have kept him quiet then. The whole damn hotel would shake, but nobody would make much of it because this place was popular with honeymooners, and wasn't that why Christian had slipped away here? He wailed, and twisted up, and shot seed like he was shooting a damn pistol down Christian's throat, hard enough, he felt, to blow his damn head off.
He'd never felt so good, and so dreadful, and there wasn't even a moment of satisfaction because the moment he'd come like that the world tilted sidewards and Sean crumpled, slid down the mirror, and the last thing he remembered was the floor coming up to meet him.
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Everything was black with a whirling whiteness that wasn't visible but was in fact a sound made solid, the sound of whirring orgasm like a thousand waves crushing against a shore, seizing up a little boat - and he was the boat - and promising it twisted, ruination as it was crushed into oblivion. He rose on those waves, and was enshrouded in their blinding, wet heat as Christian's mouth slammed home around him, as his cock brushed the back of the other man's mouth and those hard fingers drove up with blinding accuracy not to brush but to stab at his sensitive prostrate.
And he rose high on those waves--
His orgasm was agony and pleasure at once. His tortured balls constricted hard, like the fist of a strongman knotting in his gut, forcing everything out of him, and the space through which it all tried to pass at once was so narrow, and so blindingly sensitive that Sean let out a savage roar in its passing--nothing, not even a gag, could have kept him quiet then. The whole damn hotel would shake, but nobody would make much of it because this place was popular with honeymooners, and wasn't that why Christian had slipped away here? He wailed, and twisted up, and shot seed like he was shooting a damn pistol down Christian's throat, hard enough, he felt, to blow his damn head off.
He'd never felt so good, and so dreadful, and there wasn't even a moment of satisfaction because the moment he'd come like that the world tilted sidewards and Sean crumpled, slid down the mirror, and the last thing he remembered was the floor coming up to meet him.