Yes. [ He answers without hesitation, little hitches of breaths between thrusts. ] Yeah. Good. It's so good. Feels so good.
[ The way his eyes roll back into his head and the slutty little sounds he makes as he fucks himself back on Bruce's cock... this is what he wants. This is what he needs. This is what he's been craving the moment he and Bruce first kissed back on that couch however long ago that was now. All of this has a tendency to just bleed together for the speedster, where the only thing he does know is that Bruce feels so good touching him, kissing him, fucking him in his bed like this. He's so glad he sent that text message off now.
Feeling the way that cock slides into him stirs something up in Barry every time Bruce gives it to him and it has him feeling filthy in ways that might have him come off a little slutty, a little bit like a whore in heat, but he doesn't seem to care. The only thing he does care about is fucking himself back on the cock and letting it fuck him as hard and deep as Bruce wants. ]
Your dick is so good. [ Words that drip from parted lips as he drops himself down onto his elbows, hips still up for Bruce to keep taking him from behind. ] Taking it so good.
[ Head hung between his shoulders, he moans. Loud. In fact, he finds he can't stop moaning as he rocks himself back against Bruce, arms coming to slide out from under him and drop his upper half down against the bed. Head down, ass up.
The desperate little whines of yes that he chants over and over again to himself are filthy and sweet in how genuine he means them. A mantra to the cock that feeds him this pleasure. Pleasure which his own cock bouncing against his stomach desperately wants and so he reaches between his own legs and strokes himself, gasping a little louder as he does. ]
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[ The way his eyes roll back into his head and the slutty little sounds he makes as he fucks himself back on Bruce's cock... this is what he wants. This is what he needs. This is what he's been craving the moment he and Bruce first kissed back on that couch however long ago that was now. All of this has a tendency to just bleed together for the speedster, where the only thing he does know is that Bruce feels so good touching him, kissing him, fucking him in his bed like this. He's so glad he sent that text message off now.
Feeling the way that cock slides into him stirs something up in Barry every time Bruce gives it to him and it has him feeling filthy in ways that might have him come off a little slutty, a little bit like a whore in heat, but he doesn't seem to care. The only thing he does care about is fucking himself back on the cock and letting it fuck him as hard and deep as Bruce wants. ]
Your dick is so good. [ Words that drip from parted lips as he drops himself down onto his elbows, hips still up for Bruce to keep taking him from behind. ] Taking it so good.
[ Head hung between his shoulders, he moans. Loud. In fact, he finds he can't stop moaning as he rocks himself back against Bruce, arms coming to slide out from under him and drop his upper half down against the bed. Head down, ass up.
The desperate little whines of yes that he chants over and over again to himself are filthy and sweet in how genuine he means them. A mantra to the cock that feeds him this pleasure. Pleasure which his own cock bouncing against his stomach desperately wants and so he reaches between his own legs and strokes himself, gasping a little louder as he does. ]