[ It's as good an answer as any, and that's what Larus takes it as, working him over at a decent pace so that he's hard in his fist. It doesn't take much, and he wonders if it has anything to do with how ready he'd been to stay between his knees and continue blowing him. But there's only so much room to think, and he can't afford to consider that right now, hissing under his breath as the pressure of Jericho's mouth at his throat. There's no way he's going to be able to hide that considering where it is, so it means returning the favor in kind, and he shifts, bracing a foot against the floor of the truck so there's enough space between them he can pop the button on Jericho's jeans and drag the fly down. ]
I'm not going to fuck you in here. [ Straightforward -- because he doesn't have anything besides a few condoms in his wallet and because there's no room to really spread him out -- and Larus pushes Jericho away from him to get him on his back, mouth trailing down his throat and over his chest. He hikes his shirt up, licking a path to his navel, and there's a careful nip to his hip before his mouth is replacing his hand around his cock, taking up the endeavor Jericho had tried to accomplish while he'd been driving.
It hasn't been so long that he's unpracticed, breathing slow as he sucks him down and grips his hips to keep them in place. Maybe it's just something to take the edge off, something to keep him a little more pliant and a lot less weird, but he pushes all of that out to focus on the heat of him in his mouth, the taste and how he hums quietly to encourage him to get his hands back in his hair to show him exactly what he likes. It should only take a few minutes if he hurries, dragging his tongue over the head to both breathe and speak after a moment. ] Unless you really want me to. [ And if he somehow has any lube on him; he's that considerate at least. ]
[ His stops fighting when he ends up on his back with Larus' mouth hot and wet around him, one hand splayed over his own face as he groans, his neck arching, and the other sliding into Larus' hair, closing around his thick locks almost painfully tight. His grip loosens, then tightens, then loosens again, his breath stuttering with how good this feels, and maybe it's Larus or maybe it's the pot, or maybe it's the thrill that one of the campus security guards doing rounds at the dorms could bust them any minute now. No matter -- he couldn't ask Larus to stop, not with the way his tongue has him writhing against the seat like this. He knows what he's doing, and Jericho knows that he wants this.
The pressure builds, sending heat through his body; his hair already feels damp, the enclosed space of the cab too warm now with the air off, and his soft moans and muffled grunts slowly take on a more breathless quality, tremors stacking up within him, in his hands, in his thighs. He grips the edge of the seat, fingers digging hard into the fabric as he tries to stop pushing his hips so firmly into his mouth, but holding back becomes harder and harder as the seconds tick by, this entire moment made of spit and liquid heat and the soft wet sounds coming from Larus' mouth. He would let him fuck him right now if he wanted to -- he'd let him do anything he wanted to, his chest quivering with the way he's gasping for breath, and his eyes squeeze shut as the edge of a tremor takes hold of him, refusing to let him spill over, so for the longest moment he's suspended in a limbo of piercing hot agony, unable to speak or breathe or do anything but shiver, and then he pushes over with a quiet cry, rolling his face to press into the back of the seat. He just barely manages to give Larus a warning first, his shaking fingers nudging at his jaw to lift him off, and then he's gone, vision whiting out, his legs tightening against the way he tries to hold them open.
He wouldn't say his body necessarily relaxes after, still strung through with tension, weak now with the force of his orgasm, and he can't stop the light tremors that flow through him every time he moves. His breath slowly returns, though shallowly; it's not enough, and it's so hot in the truck that he can feel the sweat edging Larus' temples when his fingers slide away, and when he runs his hands down his own face his skin is damp, flushed. He weakly kicks at the door, still on his back but trying to push himself up with limbs that feel like water. ] Open it. I need some air. [ And some help dragging himself from the truck, but one problem at a time. He pushes out a breath, his eyes fluttering open, his voice thin. ] You're so good, Larus. I could just... crumble away and join the earth right now.
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I'm not going to fuck you in here. [ Straightforward -- because he doesn't have anything besides a few condoms in his wallet and because there's no room to really spread him out -- and Larus pushes Jericho away from him to get him on his back, mouth trailing down his throat and over his chest. He hikes his shirt up, licking a path to his navel, and there's a careful nip to his hip before his mouth is replacing his hand around his cock, taking up the endeavor Jericho had tried to accomplish while he'd been driving.
It hasn't been so long that he's unpracticed, breathing slow as he sucks him down and grips his hips to keep them in place. Maybe it's just something to take the edge off, something to keep him a little more pliant and a lot less weird, but he pushes all of that out to focus on the heat of him in his mouth, the taste and how he hums quietly to encourage him to get his hands back in his hair to show him exactly what he likes. It should only take a few minutes if he hurries, dragging his tongue over the head to both breathe and speak after a moment. ] Unless you really want me to. [ And if he somehow has any lube on him; he's that considerate at least. ]
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The pressure builds, sending heat through his body; his hair already feels damp, the enclosed space of the cab too warm now with the air off, and his soft moans and muffled grunts slowly take on a more breathless quality, tremors stacking up within him, in his hands, in his thighs. He grips the edge of the seat, fingers digging hard into the fabric as he tries to stop pushing his hips so firmly into his mouth, but holding back becomes harder and harder as the seconds tick by, this entire moment made of spit and liquid heat and the soft wet sounds coming from Larus' mouth. He would let him fuck him right now if he wanted to -- he'd let him do anything he wanted to, his chest quivering with the way he's gasping for breath, and his eyes squeeze shut as the edge of a tremor takes hold of him, refusing to let him spill over, so for the longest moment he's suspended in a limbo of piercing hot agony, unable to speak or breathe or do anything but shiver, and then he pushes over with a quiet cry, rolling his face to press into the back of the seat. He just barely manages to give Larus a warning first, his shaking fingers nudging at his jaw to lift him off, and then he's gone, vision whiting out, his legs tightening against the way he tries to hold them open.
He wouldn't say his body necessarily relaxes after, still strung through with tension, weak now with the force of his orgasm, and he can't stop the light tremors that flow through him every time he moves. His breath slowly returns, though shallowly; it's not enough, and it's so hot in the truck that he can feel the sweat edging Larus' temples when his fingers slide away, and when he runs his hands down his own face his skin is damp, flushed. He weakly kicks at the door, still on his back but trying to push himself up with limbs that feel like water. ] Open it. I need some air. [ And some help dragging himself from the truck, but one problem at a time. He pushes out a breath, his eyes fluttering open, his voice thin. ] You're so good, Larus. I could just... crumble away and join the earth right now.