[ It's like a new discovery, this brand of comfort, this shade of safety. Something's happened in the last few months, going from a comfort zone within the circle of boyfriends to this new territory with older men, in their arms, making sure he feels good. Maybe they can tell how easy he can be to scare off, how he second-guesses everything for as long as he's sober.
Arousal wipes away most of his inhibitions, but he wants to try to shed them now, see what it's like to feel vulnerable and know that it'll be okay. No one will make fun of him, no one will use it against him. His hand stays there, moving, working his wrist, fingers circling the slit to steal any precome there, coating Finch's length with the thin layer of his own fluid. Dom's hips stutter too, oozing from the tip, making him shiver before he's moving again. Dom kisses Finch's neck, licks it, nuzzles him on the way to his ear, licking and nipping the soft flesh of his lobe. ]
[Finch's gaze is low-lidded and he concentrates on what he can feel instead of what he can see - there's the smell of sweat on Dom's skin, sticking to it, picked up as he noses against his throat and lays his lips over his pulse point to suck. Every motion he makes is slow, steady, assured. He pumps Dom's cock from base to tip, swiveling his hand and mirroring whatever motions Dom has in turn - faster, slower, letting him guide them along.]
[ He hides his face against Finch's neck, cheek on his shoulder, motioning himself up, closer, thrusting into Finch's hand while he keeps the older man stiff, warm, leaking. His breaths grow harsh, eyes shut, so immersed he forgets his expression, lips parted and eyes closed, moaning weakly. The orgasm comes soon, making him shudder and freeze, streaking Finch's hand and his stomach. Dom hangs in that moment, panting and holding on to Finch's shoulder, trying to gather himself so he can keep pumping him until he joins Dom's climax, too. ]
[Finch's hand keeps moving, though it slows - eventually stills, only slightly abrupt in that's when he feels himself start to peak. His breath is hot and shallow against Dom's neck, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he keeps his eyes shut and lets the heat coil in his gut before it erupts. He lets out a hissed, bitten back grunt, and then exhales hard and deep as pleasure rolls through him.]
[ It's hard to tell when he's supposed to stop, sometimes, until someone speaks up or they squeeze his arm to say enough, the orgasm is over, and what follows is an oversensitive protest from their own body. Dom's strokes slow down, this time before he felt Finch's shudder and the fluid that followed, hanging on to that weird lull between the build up and the heavy charge of arousal, leaving them both floating in the moment, anchored to each other. His breathing is steady by the time he lets go of Finch, looking down at the glossy mess on his hand, then their cocks so close together, back in the real world, back to being someone who never quite knows what he's doing. What he does know is that he'd like to not move for a while. ]
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Arousal wipes away most of his inhibitions, but he wants to try to shed them now, see what it's like to feel vulnerable and know that it'll be okay. No one will make fun of him, no one will use it against him. His hand stays there, moving, working his wrist, fingers circling the slit to steal any precome there, coating Finch's length with the thin layer of his own fluid. Dom's hips stutter too, oozing from the tip, making him shiver before he's moving again. Dom kisses Finch's neck, licks it, nuzzles him on the way to his ear, licking and nipping the soft flesh of his lobe. ]
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Was that good?