[ Hearing his name on Bruce's lips like that is somehow everything some part of him wants. That dirty, filthy, slutty side of him that wants nothing more than to fuck and be fucked by the other man until he can barely remember his name anymore, but also the sweeter and softly awkward side of him that longs for some sort of emotional connection with another or, at the very least, with someone who maybe understands what it's like to carry a heavy amount of guilt on one's shoulders. Both sides lap up the way he says his name and he worries, in a way, that he's now been shot through the heart and there's no turning back anymore.
Those fingers in his hair cause a chill of excitement to run up his spine and when Bruce comes for a second time that night, as eager as Barry is for it, it still catches him a little by surprise, mostly because of how much and heavy it is.
Eyes squeeze shut the moment Bruce spills his load into his mouth and, admittedly, he chokes on him. Just for a second. For as quickly as he tries to swallow up everything that he's given, he finds it to be too much too quick and he so he pulls back a little, letting most of it coat his tongue instead. He moans as he takes it, as he drinks up what he's given while looking up to Bruce, eyes glassy and wide despite the pinprick of tears there. It's fine, he loves it and wants it.
When he finds he can't take anymore without feeling the need to choke again, he pulls back and lets the rest of that load spill over his shiny lips, painting across his mouth and chin in a mess of white. He strokes him, pumping Bruce for everything that he's got and hums as a few more drops splash onto his hanging tongue, licking over his lips as fingers brush that sticky mess down Bruce's cock.
It's only when he feels as if he's managed to milk everything out of Bruce that he finally lets himself fall back against the bed and sighs. Exhausted but pleased, lips shiny and covered in the mess that Bruce has fed him, Barry too tired to even bother wiping his face clean. Instead, he just lays there's, eyes lazy and staring at the ceiling as he breathes. Slow and steady. Sexually exhausted after four orgasms. ]
no subject
Those fingers in his hair cause a chill of excitement to run up his spine and when Bruce comes for a second time that night, as eager as Barry is for it, it still catches him a little by surprise, mostly because of how much and heavy it is.
Eyes squeeze shut the moment Bruce spills his load into his mouth and, admittedly, he chokes on him. Just for a second. For as quickly as he tries to swallow up everything that he's given, he finds it to be too much too quick and he so he pulls back a little, letting most of it coat his tongue instead. He moans as he takes it, as he drinks up what he's given while looking up to Bruce, eyes glassy and wide despite the pinprick of tears there. It's fine, he loves it and wants it.
When he finds he can't take anymore without feeling the need to choke again, he pulls back and lets the rest of that load spill over his shiny lips, painting across his mouth and chin in a mess of white. He strokes him, pumping Bruce for everything that he's got and hums as a few more drops splash onto his hanging tongue, licking over his lips as fingers brush that sticky mess down Bruce's cock.
It's only when he feels as if he's managed to milk everything out of Bruce that he finally lets himself fall back against the bed and sighs. Exhausted but pleased, lips shiny and covered in the mess that Bruce has fed him, Barry too tired to even bother wiping his face clean. Instead, he just lays there's, eyes lazy and staring at the ceiling as he breathes. Slow and steady. Sexually exhausted after four orgasms. ]