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bakerstreet2024-06-23 09:00 am
anonconda) wrote in bakerstreet2024-06-23 09:00 amNursed back to health
 
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anonconda) wrote in bakerstreet2024-06-23 09:00 am
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( Being touched this much, he isn't used to it. The other's hands leave a feverish trail behind and Sunday finds himself trembling without knowing why. It's terrifying, how comfortable it feels here, how safe; to be shielded, to be cared for... It's a sensation he'd forgotten, with how he's always been keen on protecting everyone else instead, first Robin and then Penacony.
A breathy, quiet noise escapes his lips when his wings are touched and he stiffens, burying his mouth in the other's shirt to pretend nothing happened, ears red. His wings are a weak spot, all too delicate, much like his halo.
He hums at Gallagher's words. They make perfect sense, but he isn't too sure he has a future at all. He burrows his face in the crook of the man's neck, breathing him in, cologne and cigarettes, that he would've found repelling before and now instead offer comfort.
He's a bird raised in a cage, he can never reach the skies even once the cage is destroyed. The truth is that, unlike his sister, he'll never be able to fly. )
My story was over the moment I failed to give everyone a sweet dream. Someone like me has no future. ( No future and no sense of self. Gopher Woods was successful in raising a martyr.
And yet, isn't Gallagher extremely similar? Made for just one purpose, like him? ) But if you believe I deserve the chance to live for myself, isn't it exactly the same for you too? You are much more than the goal you were made for.
( His arms reach around to embrace the other's neck and the wings that frame his face stretch, mimicking the same motion. ) After a lifetime spent solely for Penacony, you deserve to see it flourish again as yourself and not anyone's tool anymore.
( A pause. ) And as you learn to be yourself, I will teach you how to finally look proper and shave. ( Maybe he's joking... maybe not. )
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[ The way Sunday reacts to his wings being touched brings a fond smile to Gallagher's face. He takes note of that, committing it to memory for later on— if he's allowed to. He'd like to spoil the other man rotten with more physical contact like this since it seems like Sunday really enjoys it. Most likely from the lack of experiencing such things in his life, which makes Gallagher's heart ache to think about.
At least he has the chance to remedy it right now. When Sunday curls into his warmth, he makes sure to envelop the other man's entire being with a firm embrace. He rubs soothing circles onto his back, hoping it will help bring him some comfort amidst the sadness.
He laughs softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. ]
If you're gonna teach me how to look proper, then I'll teach you how to relax. You're too uptight sometimes.
[ Whatever he wants to say dies in his throat when he goes over the rest of what Sunday said, especially the words he desperately wanted to hear himself. His grip around the man tightens even more, as if he's now holding onto him like a lifeline just like Sunday is clinging to him. ]
Penacony doesn't need me anymore. It'll flourish without my help, so I shouldn't stay for something so selfish. [ Even now, he still thinks of himself as someone whose role is no longer necessary. He has to face the curtain call eventually. ] But you—
[ His words falter. He doesn't know what to say here, but there has to be a reason why he still exists. It wouldn't have been possible for him to stay otherwise, and the only thing he can think of is that his desire to make sure Sunday is okay in the end must have been strong enough to keep his existence grounded.
Almost as if he's given himself a new purpose.
He leans his forehead against Sunday's, thinking about how soft those feathers feel against the scruff on his jaw. ]
... Maybe you can help me figure things out. I don't really know who I am beyond the role I was meant to play.
[ It's the most honest he's ever been, but what's a few more rules to break? Sunday makes him feel seen, so he wants to expose what he can before his time is up. ]
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He swallows around the tightness in his throat when Gallagher inches even closer, their foreheads pressed together and he needs to close his eyes, afraid his own vulnerability will show through even more. )
I don't really know that either... who I am. I only know who I was supposed to be. Let us learn about ourselves, with each other's help. ( He murmurs so softly it's barely a whisper, but with how there's no space between them, surely Gallagher won't miss his words. )
Maybe... we deserve some selfishness. ( They've always just followed others' wishes, put others before themselves. A life of sacrifice, and what happiness did it bring? )
And I'm not uptight. You're just too often shameless. ( Just like now, leaning their faces so close together that Sunday can feel the caress of his warm breath. Paired with the way those large hands keep traveling along his back, he feels like he's melting away. He accidentally brushes the tips of their noses together, eyes opening just to meet the shape of the other's lips, eyelids and wings fluttering imperceptibly. )
Let me go... this is unbecoming. ( He murmurs breathily, mesmerized by the sight in front of him. There's not a drop of will in his words, nor his body tries moving at all, hands resting against Gallagher's nape. His instinct will always be to try and keep up appearances --even when it's too late. )
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Selfishness, huh...
[ The words are murmured against soft hair, because by now Gallagher has burrowed his face against Sunday's head. It's a way of escaping how close the two of them have gotten because of him, but it also spares Sunday from gazing directly into his eyes. ]
I'm not about to let you go now, angel. Not after that. Besides, can you even stand on your own?
[ Gallagher tries to make it about how weak Sunday is at this moment, but it's more so that he'd rather not lose the warmth of the other man's body pressed against his own. He does, however, guide them slowly back to bed, urging Sunday to sit down on the edge of the mattress with him. ]
If you're serious about wanting to figure this out together, then you'll have to forgive this old Hound. I might not be able to hold myself back if I allow myself to be selfish.
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Sunday's skin tingles at those words, like they were instead the touch of fingertips. It's lucky they're sitting there, because the implications of the hound's words could make his knees weak. )
Of course I am serious, I never say things just for the sake of them. ( He replies, quiet but firm. He doesn't like telling lies and he would never lie about something as important as this. )
You should give it a try now... to being selfish. ( His voice is even softer, almost a caress like the one that brushes Gallagher's bangs away from his eyes. And yet Sunday's own gaze rather focuses on soft brown hair; he's scared of what he could see in the other's irises. What if this feeling Sunday has is completely mistaken and totally one-sided? He's never explored this part of himself before. )
We've held back all our lives, after all. I want to see what you're capable of doing, when you act for yourself, on your own desires. ( He chances a peek to the other's face under the mess of his own bangs, his heart rushing to the point he feels short of breath. Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe it's all in his head. )
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He can feel his breath catch in his throat, words unable to form while he tries to figure out how to process this. Sunday is encouraging him to be selfish, to take what he wants and to leave no room for regret. He tries to keep his breathing steady, but a shuddering sigh still escapes him, mostly because of a sliver of fear that's trying to crawl up his spine. ]
... You can't take back what you said, Sunday.
[ Leave no room for regrets.
He shifts their positions, making it so that their foreheads are pressed close together. Like this, there's hardly any space left between them, their breaths mingling softly. He trails down one hand on the side of Sunday's face to caress him, running his fingers through feathery hair. ]
If I'm gonna be selfish, then you should be too.
[ And yet Gallagher isn't taking the first step, almost as if he's still afraid this dream will come to an end. ]
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He shakes his head gently, signifying he surely won't take his word back. It's dishonourable and that's something he never wants to be.
His breath catches in his throat and his exhale trembles when once again the older man leans their foreheads together. His wings reach out again, caressing on their own will the other's jaw and barely brushing against his throat. There's a hum rolling in the back of his mouth like a purr when he's caressed, tilting into it with heavy-lidded eyes, a cat for a moment instead of a bird. )
Who knew that this old, smug Hound could still be so timid after everything he's done and gone through. With his tail between his legs. ( Sunday teases. Isn't it obvious they both yearn for the same thing by now?
Slender hands cradle the sides of his neck and, forcing himself not to think and just act, Sunday fills the little distance at once, pressing his lips to Gallagher's, softly and maybe a little clumsily. He's surely earnest though. )
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Soon after, he keeps their foreheads pressed close, unwilling to move away. The soft touch of wings on his face feels so nice, and he doesn't want to lose that contact just yet. ]
You don't want me at my worst. [ At his greediest, hungriest. Most selfish. ] I'll devour you if you're not careful.
[ It's both a threat and a tease, a promise of what might happen should Sunday continue to encourage him. Right now isn't the time, not when Sunday needs more rest and comfort than anything else.
He slots their lips together again for another kiss. When he speaks again, his voice is murmured. ]
... Is this how you wanted us to figure things out?
[ By helping each other find themselves through a relationship that always seemed so out of reach. ]
i'm so sorry for being slow, i suck!!
He keeps his eyes shut, basking in the warmth and the way that beloved scent enwraps him, finding unfamiliar heat blooming at the bottom of his stomach when that tease escapes Gallagher's mouth. )
...what if that's what I want? To be devoured? To be so close to you, that you're the only thing filling my mind? ( When has he become so sinful? The holiness of the Order has forsaken him; now he's left with all the piled up desire he's ignored for a lifetime.
He makes a noise when their lips meet again, cursing himself internally for it as soon as it tumbles out, face warming. )
I don't know... You're so distracting. ( There's jumbled, knotted yarn in his mind when before there used to be just smooth strands. He doesn't know anything, only that he doesn't want for Gallagher to pull away. )
I'm not fragile, you old dog. Give me more. ( And for a moment he sounds entirely like his old self, confident and opinionated. )
it's okay 💜 i'm a backtagger for life, so no worries at all
There's the birdie I know. I'll give you anything you want— you only need to ask.
[ Both of them have no purpose now, either abandoned by what they once believed in, or deemed unnecessary by the rest of the world. Gallagher has always known that the two of them would get along so well, if it weren't for the cursed paths they both chose to walk on, but now, right here in each other's arms, none of that matters. All that does is how Sunday feels against his lips, how he tastes bittersweet and yet addicting all the same as he kisses the man once more.
This time around, it's hungrier. More demanding. He licks into Sunday's mouth before prodding at his lips with a curious tongue, wanting to be let in so he could devour him just as he said. Once allowed, he'll explore what he can while relishing the man's taste. He doesn't think he'll ever grow tired of it.
His hands remain busy as ever too, trailing down Sunday's body as he maps out every dip and curve of muscle that he can feel through the layers of clothing. He wonders if he'd be allowed to go much further, but decides this will do for now. ]
thank you!! 🥺
Sunday isn't naive, he knows about the ways of the world, the things he's seen and the confessions he had to hear sometimes were sinful in ways he couldn't have imagined. But the truth of the matter is that he has virtually no experience, for he had to devote himself to others. He found his own wishes absolutely worthless and it would've been shameful to embrace them in all their selfishness when he had to give himself to others.
That's why it's so easy now to feel overwhelmed by Gallagher and yet pleasantly so. He wants to learn everything he didn't before. He wants to give himself the chance to embrace his sensations and feelings.
And so it's easy to part his lips and let the other in, spilling a breathy noise at how obscene the caresses of his tongue feel. Sunday clutches onto the other's shoulders for dear life, clumsily yet eagerly returning the heated affection. He feels in a daze, barely registering the way he leans back against the bed again and pulls Gallagher down with him, legs parting in a natural motion to accommodate his frame.
He unwittingly leans into the touch of those shameless hands, arching off the mattress. )
Teach me what to do... ( It's breathless but his determination bleeds into his tone, his request sealed by the way he laps at the corner of the Hound's mouth like a kitten. ) I want you.
cradles your sunday in gallagher's beefy arms!! 💜
He kisses him again, soft and sweet, and then moves to press another kiss on his forehead. When Sunday tells him that he wants him, he has to resist marking him up, claiming him for his own, but it'll be obvious that he's holding back. ]
If you want to learn...
[ His hands move to wrap around Sunday's body, resting on his back. In a quick maneuver, he switches their position so the Halovian is on top of him instead. He grins at him toothily. ]
It's easier to just start with what feels right to do.
[ He guides Sunday's hands to settle over his chest, giving him a small hint where he could start touching him. He'd also just like to give up control to the other man, because he knows how important that is to him. What better way to unlearn all his bad habits than by giving him a safe space to work through them?
He pulls Sunday close to nip lightly at one of his wings, murmuring into it. ]
You can touch me anywhere you want. I'm all yours.
insert here that happy face being squeezed by a huge bicep meme pic
Sunday finds he has to spread his legs wider to comfortably rest astride the other, for his thighs are that thick. His hands also find his chest to have the same full quality when Gallagher leads them there and, before he realizes what he's doing, his fingers are sinking into pectorals, unfamiliar heat twisting in his stomach and traveling down his spine at that. Thankfully he's distracted by the older man before he malfunctions
--yet he finds that's not better at all, for the man is cruel enough to nip at his wing. It's the first time he feels a jolt like that through his nerves and a raw moan tumbles out of his mouth. He stiffens instantly when he hears himself, embarrassment making him revert to his old facade. )
It's shameful to touch someone's wings. ( He nearly chides Gallagher, trying to sound firm and failing to realize that only makes much more obvious how sensitive he is in those spots. )
You're treating me like a child. I can handle whatever you want to do. ( He claims, disgruntled, this approach much softer than he thought, especially when it's clear Gallagher is completely holding back. Sunday looks quite interesting like this, trying to act tough, while he's in such a compromising position and his face is pink with embarrassment. The way his pants are starting to strain is getting way too visible as well.
What Gallagher says next though turns him more mellow and he chances him a look. ) Don't say things like that so casually. ( He chastises him --because it's so easy to believe it, if the Hound says it with such an earnest look in his eyes. He would like for the other to be his more than he cares to admit.
He busies himself with tugging one end of the tie out of its knot and discarding it, nimble fingers then quickly undoing his vest, unbuckling the front of his harness and unbuttoning his already loose shirt. When he gets finally to the skin underneath, he sighs deeply, hands splaying across the expanse as he gets short of breath. He traces his sternum and his collar bones, before he squeezes at his pectorals again. Unwittingly, he's started to rub his hips into Gallagher's. When he speaks next it's nearly husky. )
Give it to me... ( His heart, his body. He wants everything. )
omg i can picture it perfectly
[ It's true that he's holding back, but it's only because he doesn't want to scare off Sunday if he truly devours him like he keeps saying he would. The desire is there, simmering underneath the surface, barely contained given how hungrily he watches the other man explore his now bare chest. Not only are there scars for Sunday to explore, but there's a light fuzz of hair on his skin too. Truthfully, he doesn't remember who he copied that from, but maybe it doesn't matter.
Not when Sunday looks at him like he's the only one he can see, the only one he can really see. It nearly takes Gallagher's breath away, even more so when the other begs for what he wants.
He curses inwardly, knowing full well that it will be impossible to stop himself after hearing Sunday say that. His teeth latches onto the Halovian's wing again, nipping at it more than last time. Sunday said it was shameful to do so, but what Gallagher takes away from that is that he should do it again and again. He kisses the part he nibbled at, aiming to soothe it before kissing his way down the curve of Sunday's neck.
All the while, he grabs at the man's ass to keep him in place, grinding their hips together to create the friction they both crave. ]
But if you really want me to devour you, then I'll go right ahead.
[ He'll indulge as much as he wants to, starting with leaving marks on every inch he can reach, starting at Sunday's neck. He keeps his other hand busy too by slowly working off the man's clothes, deftly unbuttoning and unclasping every obstacle that's in his way. ]
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He's never been so worked up before. He was taught arousal to be sinful, his body's reactions to be dirty, to the point they either had to be ignored or dealt with ice cold water, never by getting satisfaction. It's obvious Sunday broke the rules sometimes, touching himself, only to feel the weight of guilt eating up at any pleasurable feeling.
But now --now the pleasure is so thick it leaves room for nothing else. Like Gallagher's scent, it enwraps him completely till he's losing his mind. He has no time to worry about what's proper or what's scandalous, soft breathy noises spilling at every inch of skin Gallagher touches, like he's being set on fire.
His eyes have closed without him realizing as he tilts his head to give full access to his throat to the Hound, like he's admitting submission by showing his most tender spot. His heart beats so hard he's worried the other may feel it against his jugular.
The friction of their hips makes him feel like putty. ) I-- I might... ( He bites on his lips, unsure how to say it out loud with his thin face: he might come embarrassingly fast, with his lack of experience. )
I might not be a good lover... ( He breathes out eventually, stomach tightening as a wave of arousal makes him nearly flinch when Gallagher promises not to wait. Whenever he speaks of devouring him, he feels his length throbbing. )
I told you I'm not fragile. ( He repeats, with no hesitation, hands now going to his own clothes to help with removing them, until there's perfectly milky skin on display, his lower set of wings looking even darker with their contrasting dark blue. They're lightly spread, just enough to show his torso. He takes a page from Gallagher's book and grabs his hands to put them on his stomach. ) Do what you want to me.
I want for every inch of me to be yours.
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... You really know how to rile me up.
[ It's the only warning Sunday gets before his hands explore the beautiful expanse of milk-white skin that is now exposed to him. Those pretty wings catch his attention too, but he'll come back to them once he's had his fill, working his way up to tease both of Sunday's nipples at the same time.
He coaxes them to harden, wants them nice and perky before his mouth latches onto one. His teeth grazes the surface lightly before he soothes it with his tongue, the tip of his finger rubbing circles around the other before he switches and treats it the same way. For a brief moment, his eyes flicker up to see how Sunday is doing before moving on.
Kisses are pressed along the middle of his chest, trailing lower and lower until he stops just before he reaches the man's groin. Sunday mentioned something about not being a good lover, and it makes Gallagher wonder why he says so. His cock is practically hard and aching by the time he gets close.
He watches the other man's reactions as he begins to lick his way down, swiping his tongue tentatively along the underside of that length once he reaches it. ]
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He holds his breath while the other's calloused hands explore his body and leave a trail of heat behind, a surprised whimper escaping him when the man's attention moves to his nipples, one of which is pierced the same way as his wing --the only hint of rebellion in an otherwise pristine exterior. )
Ha-- Gallagh..er-- ( His voice sounds nothing like himself, desperate, while he dips his hands in the other's hair, tugging on it more roughly than he'd initially meant to. He arches into his mouth eagerly, his cock leaking precum that drips on both their bodies. Oh, this is shameful, completely shameful-- especially as he nearly sobs when that hot mouth moves to his pierced nipple. His nails rake against Gallagher's scalp. He looks completely unfocused, breathing through his mouth.
It gets even worse when the other moves lower, dropping hums and sighs until he realizes with a startle just how low Gallagher is. )
Don't..! ( He tries and stop him, hands clutching at his shoulders, nails sinking in, but it's too late and he catches the way Gallagher looks at him like a wolf while hovering scandalously above his embarrassingly hard length. Sunday manages to bite at the heel of his hand when that devious tongue meets his cock, smothering there the desperate noise he made. )
Don't-- don't do that...! ( He begs, completely flushed. ) It's dirty... and I will come-- ngh, too quickly... ( He almost looks like he's about to cry from the embarrassment. To think that he could get bullied like this by an old dog... )
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He takes note of every single one, making sure to remember what it is that he did to draw out those beautiful noises from Sunday so that he can do it again later. He almost laments the fact that he barely spent time on teasing his nipples, especially the pierced one (which is a surprising discovery to him), but nothing is stopping him from going back to them later on. The prospect of that is exciting, too.
But he smiles when the Halovian cries out because of his tongue, prompting him to drag it along the length of his cock once again. The taste of Sunday's precum is both salty and sweet, something addicting enough for him to crave more. He lifts his head to address the other before Sunday rips out his hair in frustration. ]
No part of you is dirty, angel. [ To prove his point, and because he's a salacious old man, he kisses the tip of Sunday's cock while keeping eye contact with him. Lust burns underneath those sunset depths, showing Sunday just how much he wants him. ] I thought you wanted me to devour you. You can't back out now.
[ After all, Sunday has provoked him to this point. Kept telling him that he's not fragile, and that Gallagher can do whatever he wants. So now he is, pressing soft kisses on Sunday's cock before licking the crown, lapping at his slit. His fingers dig into the other man's hips, holding him down before his mouth completely engulfs the tip.
He swipes his tongue around it tentatively before sucking at it. Again, it's the only warning Sunday gets before Gallagher swallows him whole, his nose buried in Sunday's groin. This old Hound isn't playing fair at all. ]
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He shudders from head to toe when Gallagher licks him again and his heels dig into the mattress, one hand curling into the sheets while he bites on his forearm to try and keep quiet. He looks entirely wronged when he meets Gallagher's eyes and the other has the nerve to kiss his length and call him angel in the same breath. He looks as if he was being bullied, eyes rimmed red and gaze accusing the older man of being entirely unfair.
He whimpers into his wrist when the other continues giving him torturous pleasure, arching off the bed, toes curling. ) Ha-- don't, don't do that... ( He begs when he can feel the tip of his length in the other's mouth, the heat making him crazy. He can't possibly be meaning to go all the way, right...? He must just be teasing him-- )
Gallagher...! ( He cries out, desperately squirming on the bed when he's taken in at once and he nearly sobs before he can press both his hands to his mouth. The other is strong enough that the simple pressure of his hands on his hips has Sunday pinned there like a butterfly. There are tears in the corners of his eyes, out of frustration and badly restrained pleasure. He's never felt anything like this in all his life. )
I'm going to come in... in your mouth... please don't-- ( His voice is a husky, breathless thing as he considers just how terrible it would be to reach his climax in their current positions. But as he chances a look down and sees Gallagher with his nose pressed into the greyish hair of his groin, he can't help a moan, tongue licking at his own chapped lips, his stomach tightening. )
Please... ( And who knows what he's begging for anymore, mesmerized by the sight. )
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He's sure Sunday would admonish him for thinking sacrilegious thoughts, but the man can't blame him when he looks like that. Even more so once he started squirming underneath the hound like a pretty offering, all for the Hound to enjoy as a feast.
He chuckles low and deep, the vibrations sure to be felt by Sunday's cock since he still has the entire length buried in his throat. His gaze narrows slyly at the other man, amused by how much Sunday is begging him not to keep going. But isn't that just another way to ask for more? Sunday definitely looks like he doesn't want Gallagher to stop, so the Hound gives him what he wants.
He pulls back, just enough to have only the crown left in his mouth before engulfing every inch once again. He's alternating between this and sliding his tongue down the length of it, watching closely to see which one makes Sunday cry out even louder.
But he also keeps track of just how close the other is to the edge, one hand releasing the man's hips so he can fondle his balls, almost as if encouraging him to cum right there and then. ]
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You're so mean... so mean-- ( He accuses him in between all the obscene sounds he's making, for Gallagher has never given him a moment to breathe, increasing the pressure and the pace, until Sunday is the farthest from grace he's ever been, hips looking for the other's mouth on their own will. )
I'm so close... stop-- Gallagher...! ( It takes barely the touch of those calloused fingers in a place that's never been touched before and Sunday comes all at once, spilling messily all over, while crying out more desperately than ever.
A tight violin string, back arched completely off the bed, tears finally spilling down his temples with the way his head is thrown back. And then he melts at once, body slumping back onto the mattress, skin damp with sweat and the loud noise of his panting. His legs are trembling and even his wings have lost strength, stretched out at his sides. He looks like a fallen angel.
His golden gaze is completely unfocused as he looks for Gallagher, pupils wide and eyelids heavy; more than seeing anything, he tries and feel by stretching out his fingers to try and grasp him. He wants him in his arms again, he wants the weight of his body on top of him. )
Come to me... ( He murmurs, even his voice sounding sticky and sweet from his climax. Oh , he must've made a mess, they must be dirty --but for the first time in his life, cleanliness is not at the forefront of his thoughts. )
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[ If someone had told him that he would witness Sunday in such ecstasy up close and personal, he wouldn't have believed any of it— even more so because of the fact that he's the one responsible for all this. To think that this man is capable of making such sounds... He's sure that angels are weeping for this lost soul, but the old Hound won't give him up for anyone now.
He swallows thickly as Sunday cums in his mouth, sticky-white release hitting the back of his throat because he had the man's cock buried all the way once he reached the edge. It's too bad that he missed the first few seconds of it because his eyes fluttered shut during that brief moment, but they remained open soon after, watching as Sunday melted with tears streaming down his eyes.
He looks so beautiful like this, messed up and unravelled all because of Gallagher. The Hound takes note of his handiwork once he pulls away, Sunday's cock slipping out of his mouth with an obscene pop. He licks his lips unabashedly in front of the other man, hoping he's watching as he does so. And when Sunday calls for him, he grants his request without hesitation, sinking his weight on top of the other man while his arms wrap around him.
His cock is still rock-hard, its length pressed against Sunday's thigh as he holds him close. ]
I'm here, angel. [ He murmurs softly, pressing a kiss on the side of his lips. ] I'm right here.
[ He nuzzles against him affectionately, much like a dog wanting praise. ]
How are you feelin'? Was it that good?
[ Stroke his ego, please. (Or not, because he was being mean.) ]
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( Sunday welcomes the weight and warmth on top of him with a sigh, body still soft and tingling from his high, an undercurrent of pleasure still coursing through his every nerve. Even just the feeling of the other's erection against his leg has him moaning breathily, hands sinking in his wide back like he wants for their bodies to melt together. )
You weren't a good boy at all. You didn't listen to me and even swallowed. ( How incredibly dirty --and yet the image of Gallagher going down on him and then licking his lips will always be engraved in his memory. That's why he tilts his head to catch those lips for a proper kiss, deep and slow, his tongue languidly licking into the other's mouth even if he finds his own taste within. It has him shudder. )
Of course it felt good, even if you're a bad dog. ( He teases now, whispering right into his ear as he laps at the outline. )
Do you want to fuck me, Gallagher? ( It's almost a purr, while his lower set of wings enwraps the other in a hug, as if giving him a preview of how close they can be, feathers rubbing against the older man's lower back. ) You can take all my first times, if you want. I've told you you can do as you wish.
It doesn't matter who you're made of... I'm just for you, just for Gallagher himself. ( He understands the need to be seen, to be acknowledged, to exist for oneself and so his words want to mend that wound in the other. The only one he sees and yearns for is Gallagher; the only one he would offer this sweet deal to.
He slips a hand between them, fingers tentatively stroking him and he can't help a shaky exhale. ) You can be a good boy and fill me up, can't you?
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Am I really that bad of a dog?
[ At this point, it's a rhetorical question because Gallagher knows the answer to that. He's never been the most obedient even before the two of them reached this point, always questioning Sunday's orders or any other Family members just because he can. But this also just serves as a distraction from the rest of what Sunday is saying. The other man must know the effect he has on Gallagher, because as soon as he speaks of such obsceneties, the cock against his thigh twitches and grows even harder than ever.
Fuck. He's blissfully thankful once Sunday fishes his length out of the confines of his pants, groaning against his neck. His hips rut against the other man's hand, creating friction that he desperately needs, but it barely brings him relief. He knows what will satisfy his desires, and yet he's denying himself of that just because he'd rather wait.
(If he's not careful, he isn't sure he could last more than a few thrusts once he buries himself deep inside Sunday's heat.)
So he nips at the man's neck, worrying his skin until it blooms into a pretty bruise. ]
Maybe you should praise me more, if you really want me to fuck you. [ He starts rubbing his cock against Sunday's, but he's mostly teasing him right now. ] Calling me a bad dog just discourages me.
[ Now he's really being a little shit. ]
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Certainly he won't praise him. But maybe he can offer up more words. )
If you're scared you won't do a good job fucking me, it's okay, I understand. ( Two can be little shits in this game of push and pull. ) Maybe I should turn to someone else... like that friend of yours... Noah? ( He barely knows how the man looks like, far from being attracted to him. But dogs are territorial, are they not. Gallagher seemed to be really affected when Sunday told him he wanted to be his --maybe he'll manage to make him a little jealous. )
Maybe he won't be scared like this old Hound.
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