[Honestly, at this point Koby's forgotten his own name, much less the purpose of clothing. The only thing that exists is the relentless deep thrusts of Mihawk's tongue, hot and slick and so, so damn eager. Granted, he's never really lacked motivation when it came to getting his mouth on Koby, but this is a completely new level of intensity, possibly spurred on by the canine instincts?
Who knows -- there's not room for anything except Koby's hands clutching at Mihawk's hair, his voice high and needy and sharp, begging or praising or somewhere in between. The grip on his hips is the one thing that keeps him upright when he finally comes with a shattered moan, shamelessly rutting against Mihawk's mouth, soaking his chin and beard once again, because apparently that's going to become a habit.
Feeling untethered, shaky, and not at all sated, Koby tugs hard at Mihawk's hair, breath raspy, eyes heated and dark and hungry.] Bed. R-Right now. [It's a command, skirting close to that compulsion and just barely holding back -- no time for teasing, he needs Mihawk inside him right that fucking second.]
(There is almost a ferocious growl when he's interrupted by Koby's hard tug. He likes that tug though, and by now, his cock is absolutely throbbing between his legs. He jerks his head back to glower up at Koby as if he was annoyed at having to stop his indulgence.
But then he realizes........
Maybe it's not so bad. He stands up and as he does, he just picks Koby up with him. Who needed to walk when your boyfriend could whisk you around as though you weighed absolutely nothing? He manhandles Koby onto the bed and immediately puts Koby on his stomach. Which is unusual for them, but he had some instincts going against his usual desire to stare Koby down while they fucked. Besides...
Koby does look lovely from behind. He lifts him up onto his knees and within seconds, his cock is sliding in deep, and as Koby had theorized, Mihawk was different here too. He was hotter, bigger, thicker. He growls again, hooking an arm around Koby's waist, curling protectively around his back as he begins to thrust into Koby.)
[The way Mihawk snarls, the way he looks up with those ferociously stormy eyes is pure predator, reminding Koby just how intensely dangerous this man is. But he isn't afraid -- not now, not after this long, not with the aftershocks of his first climax still shuddering through his body. He just smiles giddily, almost drunkenly, lets his fingers go loose in Mihawk's hair, doesn't resist when they're both swept towards the bed.
The position isn't a normal one, aside from a few times bent over the desk or the edge of the bed -- when there wasn't much time, back at the beginning. These days Mihawk tends to linger, take his time taking Koby apart, watching him shudder to pieces spread out on the blankets. But that doesn't make this angle any less preferable -- elbows and knees, Mihawk's warm weight at his back, the familiar press of his cock sliding through the mess he's made.
And then -- also new, different, bigger and thicker and part of Koby wants to pull away and turn around and see what, exactly, is different about Mihawk's cock, because he's deeply attached to that part of him, okay. But the depth is wonderful, the stretch, the burn almost like the first time, and Koby just drops his forehead against the blankets with a whimpering, broken sound, back arching hard, hips lifting back to meet each thrust. He can examine the nuances later -- what matters right now is that it's Mihawk, inside him, where he's supposed to be. Where he belongs.
One hand reaches back, shakily, finds the back of Mihawk's neck, trembling fingers squeezing -- one. Two. Three. Resting there, like even when actively fucking him, Mihawk isn't close enough. Like Koby needs to hold onto him, even now.]
(Mihawk knew Koby could handle him. If it were their first time, he might have been a bit more cautious. He would have restrained himself more just to make sure he didn't split Koby apart in a bad way. But he knew Koby's body thoroughly and he knew Koby thoroughly. He knew he could handle far more than anyone would probably give him credit for.
The pulsing squeeze on his neck makes Mihawk freeze against Koby for a moment and he knows, he knows damn well what that means because he knew what he meant when he did it earlier in the bathroom. He knew Koby knew what it meant. Neither of them were stupid and for a second, he's seized with the wild desire to just-
No, from behind wasn't going to do after all.
He slides out of Koby only so he can flip him around and bring their mouths together hard. He's back inside Koby a second later, pulling one leg up to get a deeper angle. He wanted to be as close and personal with Koby, his tongue melting into his mouth. One hand goes into Koby's hair and he's soon fucking him in fluid motions against the mattress, relentless in his pace, his body heat nearly scorching against Koby.)
[There's an instant where Koby almost second-guesses himself, wonders if it was too much, if he's finally crossed the line that'll make Mihawk want to pull back, want to retreat and close himself up again. But when he's flipped onto his back, when Mihawk slips back into him, the full length of his warm, powerful, beautiful body pressing Koby into the bed, kissing him slow and deep and hungry -- it's always better, like this. When it's easier to catch more of those kisses, one leg hooked over Mihawk's hip, keeping him deep, buried nearly to the hilt, drowning in the musky scent of bergamot and sweat and him. It's the scent Koby seeks out on his sheets when Mihawk wakes up before him, when there's a lingering kiss to his temple, a hand smoothing along his back, a murmured word of farewell. Mihawk doesn't let him wake up alone, not anymore.
And Mihawk doesn't let Koby forget who he's with, his taste and scent and the feel of his body moving rhythmic and steady and languid the one real thing in the world. Koby's hands are in Mihawk's hair, he's smiling against Mihawk's lips and he wants -- to say it, wants to promise things, make guarantees, ask for things he knows he can't. He wants the rest of this world and their world and any others to disappear, wants to stay forever right here, just the two of them.
Logically, it's because Koby's just come and he's well on his way to doing it again, riding the fluid waves of Mihawk's hips rocking down against his, Mihawk's cock moving inside him. But it doesn't make the urge any less present, doesn't have the words any farther from the tip of his tongue. There's a dangerous moment when Koby almost -- almost --
And then Mihawk's moving just slightly different into him, and the sparks that sets off blot out everything else, and Koby's nails snag blunt and desperate at the back of the man's neck, voice shaky, hoarse:] There, there, j-just -- like that, please-- [He gulps a shuddery breath, ducks to catch Mihawk's mouth with his again, clumsy and eager and hungry, mumbling between kisses:] Been too long, need you to fill me up, please, please...
(Mihawk had lived a long life and he had accomplished everything he had thought he wanted. He didn't actually think life could have gotten better than it already was. Back home, he was just passing the time and playing his cards because that was all there was to do. What's a guy to do when you reached your dream years ago?
It had never occurred to him to create a new one. But now, with Koby beneath him, blossoming around him, fragrant and warm, tight and welcoming, he can feel himself getting completely lost in this new possibility. It's far from the first time he has thought about that with Koby, but each time just seemed to be more real and heavier.
It has been too long. Far too long. Granted...Too long for them. Mihawk picks up the pace and hardens his thrusts when Koby begs for it. He's fucking Koby harder and harder until all he can see is white and there is a blinding surge of pleasure burning through him. When he fills Koby up, it's far more than ever before. He pumps him full and it soothes some wild, restless part of him, a satisfaction like no other spreading into him.
Mine. He grumbles against Koby, panting quietly, and that's when he feels a soft swelling begin. He blinks against Koby, and by the time he realizes what it is, his knot is snug inside of Koby, locking him in place. Mihawk pants quietly, flicking his head. He rests on his elbows, looking at Koby with complete adoration and wonder.)
[Anything more than a day, a few hours is too long. Every time they tumble back into bed -- usually like this, Koby spread out and breathless and moaning Mihawk's name as they move together like they were each born to do it -- the idea of keeping distance becomes that much more ridiculous. He misses this, the taste and scent and feel of Mihawk inside him, atop him, the way his whole body lights up every time, gentle or rough or somewhere in between. They rarely go more than a day or two without sleeping together, and it's still too long.
Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]
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Who knows -- there's not room for anything except Koby's hands clutching at Mihawk's hair, his voice high and needy and sharp, begging or praising or somewhere in between. The grip on his hips is the one thing that keeps him upright when he finally comes with a shattered moan, shamelessly rutting against Mihawk's mouth, soaking his chin and beard once again, because apparently that's going to become a habit.
Feeling untethered, shaky, and not at all sated, Koby tugs hard at Mihawk's hair, breath raspy, eyes heated and dark and hungry.] Bed. R-Right now. [It's a command, skirting close to that compulsion and just barely holding back -- no time for teasing, he needs Mihawk inside him right that fucking second.]
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But then he realizes........
Maybe it's not so bad. He stands up and as he does, he just picks Koby up with him. Who needed to walk when your boyfriend could whisk you around as though you weighed absolutely nothing? He manhandles Koby onto the bed and immediately puts Koby on his stomach. Which is unusual for them, but he had some instincts going against his usual desire to stare Koby down while they fucked. Besides...
Koby does look lovely from behind. He lifts him up onto his knees and within seconds, his cock is sliding in deep, and as Koby had theorized, Mihawk was different here too. He was hotter, bigger, thicker. He growls again, hooking an arm around Koby's waist, curling protectively around his back as he begins to thrust into Koby.)
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The position isn't a normal one, aside from a few times bent over the desk or the edge of the bed -- when there wasn't much time, back at the beginning. These days Mihawk tends to linger, take his time taking Koby apart, watching him shudder to pieces spread out on the blankets. But that doesn't make this angle any less preferable -- elbows and knees, Mihawk's warm weight at his back, the familiar press of his cock sliding through the mess he's made.
And then -- also new, different, bigger and thicker and part of Koby wants to pull away and turn around and see what, exactly, is different about Mihawk's cock, because he's deeply attached to that part of him, okay. But the depth is wonderful, the stretch, the burn almost like the first time, and Koby just drops his forehead against the blankets with a whimpering, broken sound, back arching hard, hips lifting back to meet each thrust. He can examine the nuances later -- what matters right now is that it's Mihawk, inside him, where he's supposed to be. Where he belongs.
One hand reaches back, shakily, finds the back of Mihawk's neck, trembling fingers squeezing -- one. Two. Three. Resting there, like even when actively fucking him, Mihawk isn't close enough. Like Koby needs to hold onto him, even now.]
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The pulsing squeeze on his neck makes Mihawk freeze against Koby for a moment and he knows, he knows damn well what that means because he knew what he meant when he did it earlier in the bathroom. He knew Koby knew what it meant. Neither of them were stupid and for a second, he's seized with the wild desire to just-
No, from behind wasn't going to do after all.
He slides out of Koby only so he can flip him around and bring their mouths together hard. He's back inside Koby a second later, pulling one leg up to get a deeper angle. He wanted to be as close and personal with Koby, his tongue melting into his mouth. One hand goes into Koby's hair and he's soon fucking him in fluid motions against the mattress, relentless in his pace, his body heat nearly scorching against Koby.)
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And Mihawk doesn't let Koby forget who he's with, his taste and scent and the feel of his body moving rhythmic and steady and languid the one real thing in the world. Koby's hands are in Mihawk's hair, he's smiling against Mihawk's lips and he wants -- to say it, wants to promise things, make guarantees, ask for things he knows he can't. He wants the rest of this world and their world and any others to disappear, wants to stay forever right here, just the two of them.
Logically, it's because Koby's just come and he's well on his way to doing it again, riding the fluid waves of Mihawk's hips rocking down against his, Mihawk's cock moving inside him. But it doesn't make the urge any less present, doesn't have the words any farther from the tip of his tongue. There's a dangerous moment when Koby almost -- almost --
And then Mihawk's moving just slightly different into him, and the sparks that sets off blot out everything else, and Koby's nails snag blunt and desperate at the back of the man's neck, voice shaky, hoarse:] There, there, j-just -- like that, please-- [He gulps a shuddery breath, ducks to catch Mihawk's mouth with his again, clumsy and eager and hungry, mumbling between kisses:] Been too long, need you to fill me up, please, please...
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It had never occurred to him to create a new one. But now, with Koby beneath him, blossoming around him, fragrant and warm, tight and welcoming, he can feel himself getting completely lost in this new possibility. It's far from the first time he has thought about that with Koby, but each time just seemed to be more real and heavier.
It has been too long. Far too long. Granted...Too long for them. Mihawk picks up the pace and hardens his thrusts when Koby begs for it. He's fucking Koby harder and harder until all he can see is white and there is a blinding surge of pleasure burning through him. When he fills Koby up, it's far more than ever before. He pumps him full and it soothes some wild, restless part of him, a satisfaction like no other spreading into him.
Mine. He grumbles against Koby, panting quietly, and that's when he feels a soft swelling begin. He blinks against Koby, and by the time he realizes what it is, his knot is snug inside of Koby, locking him in place. Mihawk pants quietly, flicking his head. He rests on his elbows, looking at Koby with complete adoration and wonder.)
I don't think I can move anytime soon.
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Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]