I think you can probably tell it's working really well. Isn't that obvious?
[Partially due to how characteristically squirmy he is, of course. He more he's enjoying himself, the less he can possibly stay still. And since he's practically thrashing around now, and certainly lifting his hips off the bed, that's a good sign.]
Come on, roll over. You want to be on your knees for this.
[I hope you're not sick of being manhandled around, Ginsberg, because it really is going to keep happening. He settles Ginsberg up on all fours, sliding in behind him.
Ever the tease, he doesn't make any move to push into yet, just rocks his cock against the back of his thighs.]
[He's more than happy being manhandled, really -- why would he complain about it? -- and willingly lets himself be settled onto his hands and knees, arching his back slightly, wiggling his butt just for the hell of it, and then completely unable to avoid laughing.]
In my mind that was supposed to be kind of seductive. In reality I think I just looked really, really silly.
[He gives Ginsberg's ass a little slap, soothing it after with slow circles of his hand. He slides two fingers inside him again, just testing, seeing his reaction.]
You think? I always kind of thought that for me, they were. Because it's hard to look really seductive when you also look really stupid.
[It's also hard to tell which action of Oliver's garners the more entertaining response -- the slap on the ass, which results in a little yelp of surprise, or the fingers, which results in a demanding moan, and a needy shift of his hips back towards Oliver.]
Well, I knew I liked you for a reason. A lot of reasons, actually. You're pretty great...
[He probably would have made more babbling compliments, too, except, yep, that's definitely the right spot to make him yelp again, though this time in a less surprised and more excited way.]
[Oliver's voice becomes lower when he says that, missing its usual edge of goofiness. God, it would be so easy, wouldn't it? To wind this kid up this far and then tell him he's changed his mind.
Luckily for Ginsberg, he isn't that cruel. Besides, his own cock is hot and heavy between them, and he can't think of anything he wants more than to feel what it's like to fuck him.
He lines up his own cock with his entrance, and with his free hand firm on his hips, slowly sink himself inside.]
[Apparently, Oliver's managed to drive the incessant babbling out of him, for the time being, at least. He's entirely too concentrated on both how good and how strange that feels, and quiet whimpers accompany Oliver's movements, which he's grateful are so slow -- for now. He realizes, of course, that he seems to have a death grip on the sheets, but what else is he supposed to hang onto?]
[It takes every bit of self control not to start moving right away. the tight heat of his body is driving him out of his fucking mind. But he holds off, giving Ginsberg time to get used to the feeling. He can't resist another little smack on his ass, though.]
[Flustered and breathless is good. If only he could get him to start talking again, that would be better.
Oliver runs his hands up and down Ginsberg's chest, like the way he can feel the jump and strain of muscles. When he starts moving, it's in slow, shallow thrusts, letting his body adjust more.]
[He has to take a deep breath to even be able to get the words out, but it seems necessary to impart all of these facts to Oliver, especially since he'd specifically asked.
I don't even understand how you doing that can possibly feel so good but it does and I really, really don't want you to stop.
[Which is apparently punctuated by another long whimper.]
[Yeah, he's gonna be really unhappy if you stop right now. Say what you will about him, but he's very, very expressive and enthusiastic. With his eyes squeezed shut, he's making quite a bit of noise, and rolling his hips back demandingly towards Oliver.]
[He can see this being damn addictive, how good Ginsberg sounds as he's being fucked like this. A hand comes onto his shoulder, holding him steady as he keeps thrusting into him.]
It'd be pretty hard not to fucking love it with how fucking good it feels.
[Apparently, he's capable of a lot of things, but being embarrassed to express just how much he's enjoying himself isn't one of those things. He can't even believe he's managing to hold himself on his hands and knees right now, because his arms are trembling with excitement.]
[He can't decide whether to roll his hips back to meet Oliver's thrusts, or forward to meet the strokes of his hand, and okay, maybe he's doing the flailing thing again, but it's really difficult not to when everything feels so overwhelmingly perfect.]
I'd tell you how good it is but I don't think they've invented words for things that good yet.
[He'd respond, but forming words is getting harder on his end, too. Heat is coiling in his belly, and he's stuck between wanting to draw this out or just make Ginsberg come already.
Fuck that, he doesn't have the patience to take his time anymore. He readjusts with one foot up on the bed side them and starts giving it to him harder than ever.]
[He knows he's right on the edge, can tell from the way he's not really speaking at all so much as taking desperate gasps of air just to fuel those demanding moans that're coming out of his mouth. When Oliver increases his speed it's all he can do just to hold onto the sheets and swear. He's just so damn close...]
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[Partially due to how characteristically squirmy he is, of course. He more he's enjoying himself, the less he can possibly stay still. And since he's practically thrashing around now, and certainly lifting his hips off the bed, that's a good sign.]
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[Oliver takes his hand back, and goes back to the bedside drawer to fish out a condom and roll it on.]
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[It takes some effort, but he does manage to stop flailing. Mostly.]
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[I hope you're not sick of being manhandled around, Ginsberg, because it really is going to keep happening. He settles Ginsberg up on all fours, sliding in behind him.
Ever the tease, he doesn't make any move to push into yet, just rocks his cock against the back of his thighs.]
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In my mind that was supposed to be kind of seductive. In reality I think I just looked really, really silly.
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[He gives Ginsberg's ass a little slap, soothing it after with slow circles of his hand. He slides two fingers inside him again, just testing, seeing his reaction.]
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[It's also hard to tell which action of Oliver's garners the more entertaining response -- the slap on the ass, which results in a little yelp of surprise, or the fingers, which results in a demanding moan, and a needy shift of his hips back towards Oliver.]
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[He hooks his fingers again, opening him good and slow and searching for the right spot to make him yelp again.]
Feeling ready yet?
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[He probably would have made more babbling compliments, too, except, yep, that's definitely the right spot to make him yelp again, though this time in a less surprised and more excited way.]
Yes.
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Are you sure? I mean, I could leave if you're not 100% on this.
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[There are many things he's not afraid to be, and apparently demanding and pleading are two of them.]
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[Oliver's voice becomes lower when he says that, missing its usual edge of goofiness. God, it would be so easy, wouldn't it? To wind this kid up this far and then tell him he's changed his mind.
Luckily for Ginsberg, he isn't that cruel. Besides, his own cock is hot and heavy between them, and he can't think of anything he wants more than to feel what it's like to fuck him.
He lines up his own cock with his entrance, and with his free hand firm on his hips, slowly sink himself inside.]
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[Apparently, Oliver's managed to drive the incessant babbling out of him, for the time being, at least. He's entirely too concentrated on both how good and how strange that feels, and quiet whimpers accompany Oliver's movements, which he's grateful are so slow -- for now. He realizes, of course, that he seems to have a death grip on the sheets, but what else is he supposed to hang onto?]
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How're you liking that?
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It's good. Not even weird. Just different. But good. Really good.
[And he's already completely flustered and breathless.]
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Oliver runs his hands up and down Ginsberg's chest, like the way he can feel the jump and strain of muscles. When he starts moving, it's in slow, shallow thrusts, letting his body adjust more.]
And how's this? Better?
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[He has to take a deep breath to even be able to get the words out, but it seems necessary to impart all of these facts to Oliver, especially since he'd specifically asked.
I don't even understand how you doing that can possibly feel so good but it does and I really, really don't want you to stop.
[Which is apparently punctuated by another long whimper.]
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[He starts building up the pace, working until he's got a steady rhythm. Hands come onto his hips again, pulling him in with every downwards thrust.]
You feel fucking incredible.
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[Yeah, he's gonna be really unhappy if you stop right now. Say what you will about him, but he's very, very expressive and enthusiastic. With his eyes squeezed shut, he's making quite a bit of noise, and rolling his hips back demandingly towards Oliver.]
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[He can see this being damn addictive, how good Ginsberg sounds as he's being fucked like this. A hand comes onto his shoulder, holding him steady as he keeps thrusting into him.]
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[Apparently, he's capable of a lot of things, but being embarrassed to express just how much he's enjoying himself isn't one of those things. He can't even believe he's managing to hold himself on his hands and knees right now, because his arms are trembling with excitement.]
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[He thinks this feels good... Oliver reaches between his legs, taking hold of his cock and pulling him in quick steady time with each thrust down.]
C'mon. Let me hear how good that feels.
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[He can't decide whether to roll his hips back to meet Oliver's thrusts, or forward to meet the strokes of his hand, and okay, maybe he's doing the flailing thing again, but it's really difficult not to when everything feels so overwhelmingly perfect.]
I'd tell you how good it is but I don't think they've invented words for things that good yet.
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Fuck that, he doesn't have the patience to take his time anymore. He readjusts with one foot up on the bed side them and starts giving it to him harder than ever.]
C'mon.
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[He knows he's right on the edge, can tell from the way he's not really speaking at all so much as taking desperate gasps of air just to fuel those demanding moans that're coming out of his mouth. When Oliver increases his speed it's all he can do just to hold onto the sheets and swear. He's just so damn close...]
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