The pair of them had been like putty, easily moulded into the exact shape that pleased him.
He could have done, demanded so much more.
Anything.
And neither of them had demanded a thing from him.
There’d been no insistence that he fuck anybody, or that he come, or even participate.That had been entirely his own choice.No demands.No one begging.No pleas ringing in his ears.
Bliss.
And not the sort that was going to unravel him.
Fuck, he was hard!
And that… that was okay.The sensation of weight and fullness in his cock was oddly reassuring.In any case, there was no overriding impetus to relive the tension.He wasn’t waging a silent internal war.Rather, he was content to exist exactly as he was.
Exactly as he was.
Shoot, climbing.
And fuck ever coming down.
