Just when his fingers are starting to feel really good, Armand pulls them away. Something about that seems typical, even though this has never happened before. Nerves return, and he chides himself internally that he's too old to feel like that, no matter how long it's been, no matter who it's with.
Armand, shifting. Armand pressing against him, that's his cock, hard and so, so fucking present, all slicked up, Armand over him, pressing him back, caging him in. Daniel instinctively wants to participate but this position makes it difficult, gives Armand total power over him, and his thoughts flinch to 1973 again, and Armand trying to convince him that death would be better than routine, absentminded missionary sex with a someday-wife.
Ha ha. Maybe death is better. Even though this is still missionary.
"Yeah," he breathes. One hand circling fingers around Armand's wrist at his shoulder, not restricting him, just a point of contact, the other a mirrored hold on his shoulder. Yeah.
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Armand, shifting. Armand pressing against him, that's his cock, hard and so, so fucking present, all slicked up, Armand over him, pressing him back, caging him in. Daniel instinctively wants to participate but this position makes it difficult, gives Armand total power over him, and his thoughts flinch to 1973 again, and Armand trying to convince him that death would be better than routine, absentminded missionary sex with a someday-wife.
Ha ha. Maybe death is better. Even though this is still missionary.
"Yeah," he breathes. One hand circling fingers around Armand's wrist at his shoulder, not restricting him, just a point of contact, the other a mirrored hold on his shoulder. Yeah.