[ There's no wrong answer, he says, but Steve feels like everything is balanced just on the edge of it, turned on and anxious and completely unsure in this moment. He knows very little aside from the obvious, aside from Andyr's hands warm on his skin and his mouth scorching a trail wherever he presses a kiss. He fumbles with his clothes, freeing himself of those thin pants, and it's hardly the first time Steve has seen him naked. Yet, this is the first time he's wanted to look, to let his eyes linger and remember the line of his hips and the dip of his navel. What his cock looks like. A shiver drives itself through him, blindly following Andyr's example, and when he's over him, resting some of his weight on an elbow and fingers combing through damp hair to tilt his face back, he wants so much that he doesn't even know how to begin to voice it.
Instead, he tries to breathe and slow down, a shy note to the way he kisses the corner of his mouth and simply whispers his name against his jaw. There are more kisses, touching the edge of his collarbone and breathing hot against his sternum, looking down and memorizing every detail that he can. Something still continues to war with him, telling him to stop and step back and give them space before they cross a line that'll be too difficult to ever return from, but the drowsiness of his want - a different sort of urging - smothers it flat, fingers splaying over his stomach and inching low. Lower. Slow and steady, and touching Andyr isn't really too much different than touching himself besides size and shape. And he's so hot, burning up as Steve's eyes glance at his face and then back down to the hard jut of his dick between his fingers with too many thoughts overwhelming him to ever pick one.
So, he just lets the first thing on the tip of his tongue roll out of his mouth, curling his hand tight as he leans back to bump his nose against Andyr's. ] I want you. [ It's such a simple thing, a heavy admittance that sinks through him, and isn't it obvious by how affected he is because of all this? He wants more of Andyr's touch, wants to hear his voice and feel the way he presses against him. The soft sounds and the sweetness that comes from it, how it grips tight around his heart and nearly chokes him with it. ] Tell me-- [ But he shakes his head and finally moves, lets his fingers stroke the length of him as he lifts his hips and looks down to watch.
More than anything, he wants to see it, remember it, and there's no embarrassment in that moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip as Steve tries to work it into a rhythm, testing what he likes and what he might not. He grips him hard, strokes him harder, and then, alternates to something slow, easy and lazy. It's all instinct now, thinking how much better it'd be if he slid out of his own pants and rocked against him without a single stitch of clothing, but he's too focused on this, on the testing and touching and watching. He's too focused on Andyr feeling good, tripping over every unspoken word he still wants to whisper in his ear and shuddering with it. Just a little more, he thinks, and his hand slides around him easier now, wetter with each push of his hand. He grinds himself against the inside of his thigh.
no subject
Instead, he tries to breathe and slow down, a shy note to the way he kisses the corner of his mouth and simply whispers his name against his jaw. There are more kisses, touching the edge of his collarbone and breathing hot against his sternum, looking down and memorizing every detail that he can. Something still continues to war with him, telling him to stop and step back and give them space before they cross a line that'll be too difficult to ever return from, but the drowsiness of his want - a different sort of urging - smothers it flat, fingers splaying over his stomach and inching low. Lower. Slow and steady, and touching Andyr isn't really too much different than touching himself besides size and shape. And he's so hot, burning up as Steve's eyes glance at his face and then back down to the hard jut of his dick between his fingers with too many thoughts overwhelming him to ever pick one.
So, he just lets the first thing on the tip of his tongue roll out of his mouth, curling his hand tight as he leans back to bump his nose against Andyr's. ] I want you. [ It's such a simple thing, a heavy admittance that sinks through him, and isn't it obvious by how affected he is because of all this? He wants more of Andyr's touch, wants to hear his voice and feel the way he presses against him. The soft sounds and the sweetness that comes from it, how it grips tight around his heart and nearly chokes him with it. ] Tell me-- [ But he shakes his head and finally moves, lets his fingers stroke the length of him as he lifts his hips and looks down to watch.
More than anything, he wants to see it, remember it, and there's no embarrassment in that moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip as Steve tries to work it into a rhythm, testing what he likes and what he might not. He grips him hard, strokes him harder, and then, alternates to something slow, easy and lazy. It's all instinct now, thinking how much better it'd be if he slid out of his own pants and rocked against him without a single stitch of clothing, but he's too focused on this, on the testing and touching and watching. He's too focused on Andyr feeling good, tripping over every unspoken word he still wants to whisper in his ear and shuddering with it. Just a little more, he thinks, and his hand slides around him easier now, wetter with each push of his hand. He grinds himself against the inside of his thigh.
Just a little more. ]