[The sensation is electric. Pulsating and driving deep into his core, vibrating against far too sensitive skin. He'd never felt anything like it. This was a hundred times more than any hand job, his nerves tuned in like never before. He doesn't want to like this, he shouldn't, but it's impossible to ignore the thrumming pulse ripping through him.
It's been far too long since anything but his own hand had been near his dick, his constant fawning over Stella and his curse of having to hang around with Fraser making it virtually impossible to get laid. Sure, there was the occasional woman, but this was so much more than a clumsy fumble with some random chick. This was worse, and yet felt a million times better. It must be the drug. Must be to get his senses heightened to such a ridiculous state.
And then there's those fingers. Stroking perfunctorily and adding a whole extra dimension. Ray can't be blamed for getting hard. It's hardly his fault that the coke has got him desperate for stimulation, no matter what it was. Even those nails, and God those teeth, had his cock twitching, the pain shooting through him so sharply that he can't hold back the guttural groan that tears from his throat. That hurt and yet... and yet he's almost disappointed when Armando withdraws.
The withdrawal does, however, give him a chance to think as much as the buzzing ring will allow, at least aware enough to realise that yes, he might be getting just a little carried away from a few simple touches. He's aware enough the consider the choice given to him too, glaring stormy grey hatred towards the other that's softened just slightly by a cocaine fuelled arousal.]
Give it a go, dickweed. See if you got any balls left.
[But Ray doesn't move at the careful approach. Doesn't even twitch beyond the thrumming energy that's getting his legs jittering every now and then. He won't kick. There's no point beyond the brief satisfaction, and he's already got plenty of enjoyment from that bite. With his legs tied he'd be in an even worse position than he already is, and at least this way he's only got getting his hands free to worry about.
If he can escape. Which is still at the forefront of his mind and yet still being realised to be a somewhat useless endeavour.]
no subject
It's been far too long since anything but his own hand had been near his dick, his constant fawning over Stella and his curse of having to hang around with Fraser making it virtually impossible to get laid. Sure, there was the occasional woman, but this was so much more than a clumsy fumble with some random chick. This was worse, and yet felt a million times better. It must be the drug. Must be to get his senses heightened to such a ridiculous state.
And then there's those fingers. Stroking perfunctorily and adding a whole extra dimension. Ray can't be blamed for getting hard. It's hardly his fault that the coke has got him desperate for stimulation, no matter what it was. Even those nails, and God those teeth, had his cock twitching, the pain shooting through him so sharply that he can't hold back the guttural groan that tears from his throat. That hurt and yet... and yet he's almost disappointed when Armando withdraws.
The withdrawal does, however, give him a chance to think as much as the buzzing ring will allow, at least aware enough to realise that yes, he might be getting just a little carried away from a few simple touches. He's aware enough the consider the choice given to him too, glaring stormy grey hatred towards the other that's softened just slightly by a cocaine fuelled arousal.]
Give it a go, dickweed. See if you got any balls left.
[But Ray doesn't move at the careful approach. Doesn't even twitch beyond the thrumming energy that's getting his legs jittering every now and then. He won't kick. There's no point beyond the brief satisfaction, and he's already got plenty of enjoyment from that bite. With his legs tied he'd be in an even worse position than he already is, and at least this way he's only got getting his hands free to worry about.
If he can escape. Which is still at the forefront of his mind and yet still being realised to be a somewhat useless endeavour.]