[ He's started to rock himself a little there in Bruce's lap, short, quick breaths spilling from his lips as he edges closer to his own orgasm. But Bruce stops touching him all of a sudden and Barry stares to him a haze of no please don't stop why are you stopping when it feels so good, only to taste the tips of those fingers on his lips and be made to take them in his mouth. Which he does. Eagerly.
The sounds he makes around Bruce's fingers are slow and heady, as if enjoying the feel of having something in his mouth again. He sucks them as he would - did - his cock, gaze dark and dreamy, wanting Bruce to see just how much he enjoys it. Because he does. Absolutely none of this is an act or a means to try and impress the other man. This is just something he's wanted, he's thought about, even maybe hoped for in some secret, things-I-will-never-tell way and now that he has it, he plans to thoroughly enjoy it and Bruce for as long as he can.
To know that he's one of the hottest things that Bruce has ever imagined in a very sexual and very filthy was is a sort of praise that shoots straight to his cock. God, Bruce. You can't just say shit like that and not expect him to get even more turned on when you're the very thing and person he's gotten himself off to a number of times in private. Such praise is like catnip to Barry and the pleased little sound he makes is enough to show as much, laving those fingers with his tongue, almost wishing they'd fuck his mouth.
But Bruce has other plans that Barry is more than willing to go along with and to have those fingers back on his cock again is everything he needs and wants, especially with the almost permission he has to give in and come. Yes, sir. Right away sir. Barry's moans are heavier, mouth open and eyes shut as Bruce jerks him the way that he does. He's close. He's so fucking close. A hand blindly touches at Bruce's face and arms wind tightly around his neck as breaths quicken and panting becomes more of a thing he can't stop himself from doing. ]
Oh my god β Bruce. I'm gonnaβ
[ Come. Which he does. Hard and fast. Shooting ropes of cum that spills over Bruce's fingers and maybe even gets on his shirt there at his stomach. It's a mess, just like Barry himself is there on Bruce's lap, riding out the heaviness of his orgasm with head tilted back and then bumping forward at Bruce's, faint gasp just barely there on his lips. ]
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The sounds he makes around Bruce's fingers are slow and heady, as if enjoying the feel of having something in his mouth again. He sucks them as he would - did - his cock, gaze dark and dreamy, wanting Bruce to see just how much he enjoys it. Because he does. Absolutely none of this is an act or a means to try and impress the other man. This is just something he's wanted, he's thought about, even maybe hoped for in some secret, things-I-will-never-tell way and now that he has it, he plans to thoroughly enjoy it and Bruce for as long as he can.
To know that he's one of the hottest things that Bruce has ever imagined in a very sexual and very filthy was is a sort of praise that shoots straight to his cock. God, Bruce. You can't just say shit like that and not expect him to get even more turned on when you're the very thing and person he's gotten himself off to a number of times in private. Such praise is like catnip to Barry and the pleased little sound he makes is enough to show as much, laving those fingers with his tongue, almost wishing they'd fuck his mouth.
But Bruce has other plans that Barry is more than willing to go along with and to have those fingers back on his cock again is everything he needs and wants, especially with the almost permission he has to give in and come. Yes, sir. Right away sir. Barry's moans are heavier, mouth open and eyes shut as Bruce jerks him the way that he does. He's close. He's so fucking close. A hand blindly touches at Bruce's face and arms wind tightly around his neck as breaths quicken and panting becomes more of a thing he can't stop himself from doing. ]
Oh my god β Bruce. I'm gonnaβ
[ Come. Which he does. Hard and fast. Shooting ropes of cum that spills over Bruce's fingers and maybe even gets on his shirt there at his stomach. It's a mess, just like Barry himself is there on Bruce's lap, riding out the heaviness of his orgasm with head tilted back and then bumping forward at Bruce's, faint gasp just barely there on his lips. ]