[Every single noise Connor makes, every shiver that goes through his body, every long line of his body is drank up by Sean. It's got him rock hard, pressing against the fly if his jeans. And when he hears that warble, he just buries his mouth down on Connor's cock, not letting up. He starts swallowing at the first jet of hot salty cum in his mouth, and he doesn't stop until Connor coaxes him off and up.
Sean eagerly leans into that kiss and loses himself in it, forgetting entirely about his own needs for a moment, just so he can kiss Connor. It's good. It's so fucking good.]
You sound so nice. You've got my motor running so hard, just from listening to you. Fuck. Connor...
[Sean goes in for another kiss, this one a little more brief before he pulls back. He strips his shirt off and tosses it aside. He's a little thicker than Connor, a little more muscular. Blame all those boxes and crates he lifts. Sean's got a few more scars than Connor too, but nothing too gruesome. Most of them seem to be old, the byproducts of a clumsy childhood, scratches from climbing through wire fences or tussling with neighbourhood boys. The most recent one looks like proof of a very, very close call, three small circles on the very far right of his chest. Looks like someone shot in Sean's direction with a 12 gauge shotgun and missed, mostly. Nothing that picking shot out with tweezers and some at-home doctoring couldn't handle.]
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Sean eagerly leans into that kiss and loses himself in it, forgetting entirely about his own needs for a moment, just so he can kiss Connor. It's good. It's so fucking good.]
You sound so nice. You've got my motor running so hard, just from listening to you. Fuck. Connor...
[Sean goes in for another kiss, this one a little more brief before he pulls back. He strips his shirt off and tosses it aside. He's a little thicker than Connor, a little more muscular. Blame all those boxes and crates he lifts. Sean's got a few more scars than Connor too, but nothing too gruesome. Most of them seem to be old, the byproducts of a clumsy childhood, scratches from climbing through wire fences or tussling with neighbourhood boys. The most recent one looks like proof of a very, very close call, three small circles on the very far right of his chest. Looks like someone shot in Sean's direction with a 12 gauge shotgun and missed, mostly. Nothing that picking shot out with tweezers and some at-home doctoring couldn't handle.]