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IC Contact " It's Andyr. Do your thing. " Mun Contact • PLURK: Wuzzafuzzle • Journal PM

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[deconstruct]

[ andyr inhales, a deep rush of air as his lungs expand against his ribs, working himself up to this, to trying to let go, but only just so. even if adam wants him to be rough, he's still so human and so delicate. alva was the only one andyr had ever been able to truly fall into with complete abandon.

still, the thought of it dances through his mind, and as he kisses adam deep and firm, his fingers tighten against adam's, not enough to hurt or restrain, but something with force behind it. with a parting squeeze, sentimental and loving, andyr leans up just long enough to help adam tug his shirt up and off, tossed to the side, and his hands go to adam's thighs, giving him a sharp tug back, so that his ass slots against andyr's crotch, cock a hard line through his sweat pants, already wanting him.

strong hands moving up, he slides over adam's slender hips, gripping hard at him, and along his ribs, up his chest, until his fingers can curl into the collar of his undershirt. with a sharp rip, the garment tears, shredded down the center, and left for the tattered halves to lay folded open to adam's sides. he'll buy you a new one later, adam. ]

[unaffluent]

[ Adam knows that Andyr can never fully let go, not really, but there's a way that Andyr's always touched him that feels less careful, that's open and reckless. Adam already trusts him not to go too far everyday, even though he's seen parts of what Andyr is capable of. He can still taste him on his lips as they part to get rid of the shirt. A gasp slips past his lips when Andyr pulls him, feeling the hot and hard press of the other's cock against him and a sense of satisfaction at being wanted by this incredible man fills him. He doesn't know how he's ever come to earn it or deserve it that Andyr would want him even when he asks for too much.

His breathing his hard and the rip of his shirt shocks him, and if his mindset had been anywhere else in the start of this he might have laughed. He doesn't mourn the shirt in the least, rocking his hips down against the other's cock and his own was hard and aching already too. He pulls Andyr into another kiss, his hands sliding into his hair, curling as he kisses him deeply, biting at his bottom lip as he shrugs at the tatters of the shirt, not having to stop touching Andyr completely to get them shrugged away. ]