burning_smile | (no subject)

Huffing, Jake forced himself to let go of Dirk's shoulders and lean back against the couch.

"Do what you want," he breathed. "Just-- hnngh." He gasped and panted, wiggling. "Let me out of my shorts before I mess them, and do something, whatever it is."

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The sound Jake made was actually not unlike a sob, and he dug his heels into the carpet, gripping onto the edge of the couch.

"God-- please, Dirk," he gasped, his dick straining at his boxers and twitching under Dirk's touch. "Please, pleasepleaseplease."

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He positively writhed under the touch, too slow and too light for what his body wanted, squirming and shifting and trying to force himself still but failing miserably.

"Dirk," he whined, high and tight in the back of his throat. "I know you're not this sadistic, I know you aren't."

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That resulted in a full guttural moan of a sound bubbling up from Jake's diaphragm, and his grip on the couch tightened. His legs were shaking from the force with which he was pressing his heels into the carpet to keep himself mostly still, and his chest heaved. He was already leaking pre when Dirk fished him out and suckled at him, and an unbelievable surge of warmth flooded his body with the contact. He exhaled a rough sound that may have been Dirk's name in a former life.

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He was lost to sensation, pushed beyond the ability to even properly make sound. Instead he just gasped and hitched, kneading at the couch with one hand while he fidgeted with the other. He fisted it, uncoiled it, brought it to his mouth, pressed it there, brought it away, gripped Dirk's shoulder with it. He whined briefly.

"Dirk--"

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His hand moved away from Dirk's shoulder again to slap itself over his mouth when the spike of heat met its mark and burst outward from him, and he didn't even realize that with every pulse of his release a small sob escaped him.

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A few louder sobs worked their way out of him until he let go of the couch and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, shoving his glasses out of the way. He leaked a minimal amount of tears given the impressive amount of spooge he'd just expelled. He held his breath, moving his hands and just whining softly for a moment, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I love you," he said quietly, scruffing his own hair and sitting forward to smile. The tears stopped, mostly, but his smile and his shoulders still shook slightly.

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He gripped Dirk's hand and forced a gentle laugh, squeezing his eyes shut. A handful of tears wandered down his cheeks as he did so, but he opened his eyes again and no more welled up. He swallowed, nodding his head and squeezing Dirk's hand almost rhythmically.

"I can't," Sniff. "Tell you how much it means to me." He exhaled, the smile softening and becoming a little less forced. "...I wouldn't have made it through this without you. At all."

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He pressed his face into Dirk's hand and covered it with his free one.

"Thank you," he said. He wasn't quite sure Dirk was feeling awkward or inadequate, but he meant those thanks from the bottom of his heart, and hoped it helped to absolve Dirk of some of his concern that he wasn't doing enough for him.

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Jake immediately tipped his head forward at the chin and caught Dirk's lips, lingering for a long, slow kiss. He pulled away with a faint smack, then tapped forward again. Away, back, away, back. Peck. Linger.

"...how are you," he asked, one hand shifting to Dirk's hip.

Oh.

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He smiled in a way that made his whole face feel warm, Dirk's words melting away the horrid icy grip of his sadness. He hummed, kissing him again and idly trailing along his jawline to his ear.

"I want to make up for the month I kept you waiting," he breathed.

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He kissed a damp trail of open-mouthed pecks down Dirk's neck, to his collarbone, where he sucked briefly on the fabric of his shirt. He shifted slowly until he was mostly in his lap, gently rolling his hips into the blonde's.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

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His hands slid under Dirk's shirt and rubbed, smoothing their heels over Dirk's skin and massaging along his sides, his hips, his chest. He shifted and rolled one nipple between a thumb and index finger, biting gently at the fleshy part of his neck. His hips continued to roll, and his boxers did little to hide the slow growth of interest in them.

"I can handle that."

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