Entre is finally feeling better from his sickness, but having been stuck in bed for so long, he’s starting to feel hopelessly lonely and useless. He decides to go and visit Swag in the middle of the night, but doesn’t find him exactly how he expected to.
Warnings: NSFW, contains language and lots of RV Shenanigans I’m too tired to list. It’s also really long.
This is for Strapple and Skully as per their idea in the livestream a few nights ago (◡‿◡✿)
The outside air hits Entre hard in the face as he exits, the pungent stench of rotting corpses and smog-filled air filling his lungs. It’s thick, it’s heavy, it’s cold, but it smells like home.
He doesn’t even care, really. After being cooped up for so long he’s just happy to be outside. To him the air seems fresh, new, and so welcoming after days- weeks, even- of being forcibly bedridden. He missed it more than he even knew.
He’s finally feeling better, but although he managed to get plenty of rest, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so tired. He’s exhausted by the voices in his head, never failing to keep him awake even when he was only begging for rest, and tired of feeling useless, knowing that there is so much work to be done and all he can seem to do is take up space. Even if that’s what everyone else wants, it makes him feel like he’s better off dead. Mostly though, he’s tired of the loneliness. The aching solitude that everyone, especially Swag, forced upon him, telling him he was better off to stay inside by himself so as to not pass his sickness onto the others or make it worse by going outside. Swag did visit him occasionally, however, making sure he was okay and to see if there was anything he needed. He would bring him stew if he was hungry or cough medicine if he was running low, and although it was all out of concern, it only ever seemed to make Entre feel more pathetic. More useless. Just a waste of air in world already running dangerously low, and by his wrongdoing. He knew that Swag had better things to spend his time on than playing housewife to someone who didn’t even deserve to be alive.
At least it wasn’t all in vain. Entre walks towards the RV, bundled up in his coat and listening to the only sound of his feet scraping along the dirt. Overhead, thick smog blacks out nearly all of the stars and would render the night an eerie black were it not for an unusually large and bright full moon. The air is still, the wind is silent. It’s peaceful. It’s haunting.
He’s feeling even more lonely tonight so than usual, and he doesn’t want to bother Swag, but at the same time it’s becoming hard to ignore. He can’t seem to silence the voices on his own, and besides, now that his head finally feels better maybe he can muster up the words for a genuine thank you for sticking by his side, for his concern, and for being what felt like his only light in the dark.
On the other side of camp, the RV is dark and quiet, and to anyone it would probably be safe to make the assumption that Swag was in bed, sound asleep after a long day’s work. But Entre knew better: he knew that Swag was just a restless as him, maybe even more, and that his thoughts kept him up at night, thinking about all the things that went wrong and how to make it better. He was always stressing himself out nowadays with that sort of thing, because even though it wasn’t his fault, he always felt like it was his responsibility to fix it. And it killed Entre everyday to see him like that, because truth be told, it was /his/ fault for the shithole they lived in and all the suffering he was going through. Everyone should have hated him for it, but Swag never did. He never could, and he never would. And he would never leave his side either. It’s both heartwarming and sickening for Entre to think that amidst all the things he’d done wrong, someone could still be that for him.
Nonetheless, he could be wrong about tonight. Quite possibly it could be the night where Swag finally managed to get some shut eye, and if it is, that’s something Entre knows he would need to respect and walk way from. Despite how badly he wants to be with him, if it’s the case, he’ll just have to go back to bed and wait until tomorrow. But he keeps walking in hope, and when he reaches the RV, cautiously grabs ahold of a windowsill and lifts himself onto the bumper so that he can glance inside.
There’s a small strip in the window’s curtains from which he peeked, allowing a perfect streak of moonlight into the RV. There isn’t much to see and it’s a mess for the most part: some of Swag’s tools and clothes scattered across the floor, a few dark stains on the carpet- probably blood- and the mess of broken furniture and tacky decoration left behind by the previous owners. To the immediate right of the window is a bed, and inside the bed lay Swag, curled up his sheets and, by the looks of it, asleep.
From outside the glass, Entre smiles at the sight of the sleeping man: his hair lightly ruffled, his lips slightly parted and the rise and fall of the sheets with his steady breathing. He would look so peaceful were it not for the troubled expression on his face, although granted, he always seems to look like that lately.
He keeps his eyes glued to him for awhile, trying to figure out if he had actually managed to fall asleep or if it was just another night of hopeless tossing and turning in an effort to get some rest. With a sign, the latter would have granted Entre enough confidence to tap on the window and ask to be let inside, but it seemed wishful thinking as Swag is hardly moving. Entre sighs; he doesn’t want to interrupt, but at the same time, his body won’t let him go. He doesn’t know what’s keeping him here- maybe wishful thinking, maybe that it’s just such a calming sight, maybe both- or how long he stands on that bumper, but it doesn’t really matter. He’ll stay there and wait until Swag wakes up if he needs to, because God knows he can’t go back to that bed, to the voices… to the feeling of worthlessness.
Time passes, and Entre waits. His heels have a dull ache from straining to balance himself on the bumper, and he’s crossed his arms across the sill to rest his chin on. He’s looking back at the camp when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement from inside the RV and his head snaps back, his nose nearly pressed against the glass as he watches to see if Swag is awake.
He rolls onto his other side restlessly, getting tangled in the blankets somewhat and harshly trying to kick out of the knot he created. He rolls back over, he makes a face and groans, and then he lays flat on his back. Entre keeps still outside, and in the faint light from the window strip he swears he can see Swag’s eyes open, staring up at the ceiling.
Swag doesn’t move for awhile after that, and Entre’s nearly convinced that he just imagined it. He starts to lose hope that Swag is awake, but as he goes to hop down from the RV bumper, he sees another small movement. The sheet bumps, and just like that, Entre is captivated again. He watches intently, silently praying for another movement so that he knows he’s not seeing things, and it takes a moment, but he gets what he wants. The sheet moves again. And again, until suddenly, Swag is heaving his body up and leaning against the wall behind, and Entre can plainly see his scarred torso in moonlight. Entre never knew that Swag only slept in his jeans- though he hadn’t given it much thought- and the sight makes his stomach drop a little bit. He doesn’t even process that Swag is certainly awake and therefore he can make his presence know; he’s too transfixed on the sight before him and how gorgeously broken Swag’s body looks in the moonlight.
Swag kicks harshly at the sheets, forcing them off his body until he’s just laying exposed and upright in his bed, chest rising and collapsing as if he’s let out a heavy sigh and runs his hands down his legs. Entre feels a pang of guilt as he looks at Swag’s face: he looks so handsome, determined and confident like he always does, but also so exhausted, beaten, and empty. The world is coming out from under him, and Entre knows it’s hard for him to handle, especially after you pride yourself on being invincible for so long. Swag closes his eyes and tilts his head back, his lips part and he seems to udder a few breathless words. In the darkness, Entre focuses to make out what he’s saying, but it’s a pointless effort. His face clenches, and he lightly bites his lower lip for a moment. He lifts his head and then lets it fall back down. They’re all confusing actions, and Entre can’t seem to make out anymore if he’s actually awake or dreaming, until he finally looks away from the face so much like his own.
Entre’s eyes are wide at the sudden realization that Swag is palming himself through the fabric of his pants, stopping the minute it catches his eye finally unzipping them. His hips shift, he lowers his jeans slightly, and his arousal springs forth. Entre can feel his cheeks burning. The sight makes his heart flutter this time, and despite some voice in his head telling him to look away, to go back to his room, and to give the man some privacy, he can’t seem to move. For someone who always seems to be running, for once, he feels plastered to the spot, not sure if he’s fixated by disbelief or arousal, but he somehow can’t seem to look away as he watches through the glass as Swag takes himself in his hand and begins to stroke.
The whole thing seems like a well-practiced, perfectly polished show. Each of Swag’s movements is slow and deliberate; his hand twisting lightly as it works its way up his shaft, then turns in the opposite direction as it comes back down. He bites his lips sometimes from the feeling. His eyes flutter open and then close again, his head rolls, his back arches. Through the glass, Entre can hear the occasional sigh, laboured breath, or small gasp. It’s like he’s drawing the whole thing out, it’s so delicious, and it’s becoming too much for Entre to handle.
He hops down from the bumper hesitantly with a conflicted feeling in his gut and rests his forehead against the cold metal. He shouldn’t be here and he knows it; the whole scenario is private and embarrassing, but it’s also hard to ignore that against the fabric of his jeans, his own erection is beginning to strain painfully. He hisses in frustration. He’s embarrassed to be out here, and he feels like he shouldn’t be, but he doesn’t think he can wait. Entre looks around with slight uncertainty before he succumbs to his desires. The camp is dark, and everyone’s asleep except them. It’s eerily quiet, it’s safe, and he finally sighs. Forehead still pressed against the RV’s side, Entre looks down and unzips his pants, carefully withdrawing his own length without lowering them. He’s shamefully hard and it feels like his cheeks are burning hotter now, but nonetheless he curls his fingers around his shaft and strokes, mimicking the exact movements he saw Swag use on himself. He’s feeling insecure and afraid to get caught in the quiet of the darkness, but the fact that Swag is inches away from him doing the same thing is something to get off on, and he’s found it hard to get off in a world ridden with death, disease, and the guilt that it’s all his fault.
Within moments, Entre loses himself, so happy to welcome back the feeling of pleasure he had nearly forgotten. He’s standing out in the cool air of the night, and it makes him shudder from time to time when the feeling becomes too strong. But it’s powerful and enjoyable, and it’s beginning to make him weak in the knees. His breath is coming out in pants as a feeling in his stomach grows, and he needs to press his other hand against the RV to steady himself. He whines and bites his lip as he begins to work with more intensity, never losing sight of the man on the other side of the wall. His eyes open weakly, vision clouded, and he gasps out breathlessly as he knows he’s nearing his end. Unknowingly, he groans out Swag’s name in his heightened pleasure, only to suddenly feel one arm around his waist, a hand over his mouth, a torso pressed flush against his back and his whole body slammed into the side of the RV.
“You’re such a whiny baby. You need to learn to keep your mouth shut if you don’t want to get caught.”
Swag’s voice in his ear is low and hot in the cold air, sending chills running down Entre’s spine. He shudders against Swag’s body, keeping his body uncomfortably pinned between the RV and himself, but Entre’s only aching for release in his mind. He grunts into Swag’s hand in protest but bucks his hips back in encouragement, and against Entre’s skin, Swag can’t tell if he’s trying to get free or begging to get fucked.
His grip tightens around the younger’s waist and he pushes his hips harder against Entre’s, forcing his entire body into the side of the RV and eliciting another noise from his throat. Swag smirks and exhales against Entre’s ear before he buries his nose into the crook of his neck, rolling his hips, making sure he can feel the still prominent bulge through the fabric of his pants. It makes Entre smirk behind Swag’s hand, because there’s no way in hell that Swag could be that hard already if he had just gotten off.
“You’re such a slut, out here in the middle of the night, touching yourself to the thought of my dick.”
Entre moans in defeated agreement and can feel Swag’s lips twist into a smirk against his skin. He groans loudly and appreciatively again, because Swag is going a good job of ravishing his neck with hot kisses, licks, sucks and bites, relishing in the feeling of Entre’s body shivering against his as the night air cools each spot he touches. When Swag finally pulls back, he quickly takes a hold of Entre’s hand on the RV and drags him with him- almost literally, because the motion is sudden and his legs are so weak that he nearly trips over his own feet- back towards the door and finally inside.
The interior of the RV is much darker than it was outside, the only light being that perfect strip of moonlight that came in from the window curtains. From the inside, Entre notices just how easy it would have been for Swag to see him, and he momentarily wonders if he knew he was there all along.
As soon as the door shuts, however, the thought is interrupted. Swag’s fists tangle in Entre’s jacket and he’s pulled against his body, face forward this time. Entre looks at him with a smirk, and Swag looks back with a cocky grin, one that radiates a sort of insecure confidence that’s daring Entre to challenge him. But he won’t, because he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want every inch of Swag at that very moment: to feel his lips against his, his scarred flesh pressed against his own, the sound of his voice in his ear…
He kisses him hard and deeply, exhaling a shaky breath against him as Entre’s hands tangle through Swag’s dirty, black hair and Swag’s hands quickly move unzip and discard Entre’s jacket. Swag’s mouth is warm and sweet, and he has the faint smell of sweat, oil and sleep on his skin. It’s hot and it’s home, and for some time at least both of them know that they can lose themselves in this moment; they can forget about the slugs outside, that the world is coming to an end, and Entre can forget that it’s all his fault.
Swag pulls back and gently bites and tugs on Entre’s lower lip, earning a small groan and a look of helpless desperation on the younger’s face. He holds in his mouth momentarily before he goes to work on his neck, eagerly sucking and kissing and no doubt leaving marks on Entre’s freckled skin that Swag would only think should be considered medals of honour. The sounds of his heavy breathing rings in Entre’s ears, and it makes his back arch, pushing Swag into the wall nearly as tightly as he was pushed into the RV moments earlier. He rolls his hips against him, causing both of them to gasp because it burns in a way that’s just so unexpectedly good, and it nearly catches both of them off guard. A few more rolls and Entre’s panting in Swag’s ear again, hands dropping down from Swag’s locks to wrap around his neck, and it’s only then that he realizes that Swag didn’t bother to put on any more than his jacket before going outside. In the darkness of the RV, the scarred skin of his torso is completely exposed to him, warm to the touch and beckoning him to come closer.
“Damn it, Entre, you’re so fucking spoiled” is whispered breathlessly into his ear as Swag pulls off of his neck, trailing a long lick over his skin that cools and sends a chill through his body. Swag leans back in admiration, gloating silently to himself over the looks he’s triggered on Entre’s face and the feelings he’s certainly stirred in his groin. He lets go of his shirt now and runs his hands down Entre’s chest with an agonizingly slow speed, his hips still rolling, and he lingers momentarily over Entre’s still exposed and hard dick. He sees him shudder and hears him whine in his ear, but Swag’s not ready to oblige, and instead he slips one hand underneath the fabric of Entre’s shirt and the other around his waist.
Unlike Swag’s, Entre’s skin is slightly cold to the touch. He can feel his body trembling and the rapid beating of his heart. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous, excited or cold though, and he’s not sure if he should be worried or arrogant about it. He runs a hand over one of his nipples, gently pinching and twisting it between his fingertips as the other hand forces their bodies closer together. It urges Entre to keep rocking against him, but he’s turning into a mess in Swag’s arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck in a pathetic attempt to stifle his loud gasps and pitiful sobs of pleasure.
“Mmhhn… God, Swag, please…”
Swag smirks and closes his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. He thrusts his hips forward to meet with Entre’s, listening attentively for his response. It’s not surprising that the one he gets is loud and appreciative, and even though it’s hot, it’s nearly too much. Swag moves the hand back out from under Entre’s shirt and wraps it around his shoulders to hold him tightly, gently pushing him into his collarbone and shushing him in his ear as he continues to work a hand over Entre’s hips. He doesn’t want him to stop, he just wants him to be quiet. And Entre gets that and he does his best, resolving to bury his gasps between the collar of Swag’s jacket and his skin. He breathes in his scent deeply, and it could easily be called heaven if they weren’t living in the world they were in, if they weren’t fucking in an broken down RV with blood splatters on the wall and their friends sleeping just outside the door.
The hand around Entre’s hips is moving now, and carefully draws against his back and around his waist until it’s between their bodies, popping the button of Swag’s jeans, unzipping his fly, and pulling out his dick. The sensation of skin against Entre’s is a welcome change from the friction of fabric, and the fact that Swag is grunting lowly in the darkness against his ear as he uses a hand to rock Entre against him is only making it better.
“Tell me how bad you want it.”
Entre groans and sighs heavily against Swag’s neck, but “Mmn, bad… please…” seem to be the only words he can muster, and it’s not satisfying enough for Swag. He grabs his ass tighter and rocks his hips harder, and Entre gasps loudly and his body arches backward.
“That’s fucking pathetic. I want to hear you beg.”
The look in Swag’s eyes is almost startlingly serious, and Entre swallows a lump in his throat. He opens his mouths to try and muster a reply, but a particularly hard grind from Swag results in only the sound of a loud moan escaping, and his knees are starting to go weak, and then his body is half collapsing against Swag’s. Entre can hear him scoffing in his ear, and without warning Swag’s grinding stops, his fingers are quickly twisted in his hair and Entre’s being yanked back.
“If you don’t fucking keep quiet you’re going to wake up the whole god damn camp.”
Swag’s voice is stern and commanding, albeit breathless. He’s looking at Entre with hungry and serious eyes that are fixated on admiring how perfectly-illuminated Entre’s face is by that strip of moonlight. He looks flushed and desperate, his neck nicely exposed to Swag as his head is tilted back by the hand in his hair. His chest is heaving, his lips are dry, his eyes are heavy. He’s so weak for him, and he’s so perfect.
But he’s also a tease, and Swag can’t decide if he likes it or not.
A mischievous grin dances across the older’s lips, and he unwinds the arm from around Entre’s hips and places it firmly on his shoulder. He presses down hard, and it’s not difficult to get Entre on his knees given that they were already so shaky. He’s sure to keep those fingers wound in his hair though, and when Entre’s finally underneath him, Swag roughly tugs again to tilt his face back up to look at him.
He won’t admit it, but Entre’s loving every second of this. The way Swag pulls his hair, makes him beg, and dominates him; it’s feels so nice to be handled roughly after weeks of being pampered back to health by him. He looks back up at him with heavily lidded eyes, dizzy with pleasure, and he’s barely even processed that he’s on the ground or that he’s in a pretty compromising position.
Their lips meet roughly again, if only for a moment, before they part and leave Entre breathless on the ground. Swag is staring down at him with his infamous grin, and Entre realizes just how nice it is to see that cocky son of a bitch again. Swag lifts his hand from his counterpart’s shoulder and runs it over his length, and Entre can feel the fingers in his hair twist and clench a little bit in response to the tugs he’s giving himself. By his sides, Entre’s are doing the same.
“Are you going to tell me how badly you want me or what?” Swag taunts in a whisper from behind his closed eyes. His hands let go of Entre’s hair and caress the side of his face, blindly thumbing over his lower lip. His skin is unexpectedly smooth, probably from wearing gloves all the time, and Entre kisses the tip.
“So badly,” Entre moans in response against the touch on his lips. He blinks slowly, and it’s taking everything he has not to reach down between his legs to work himself like Swag is again. “I’ll…. I’ll do anything. Please…”
Swag’s eyes open and he looks down at Entre, a fire burning behind his eyes but the rest of his expression deadly serious and unreadable, like stone. He echoes Entre’s words, “Anything?” and he nods.
And the fist is in Entre’s hair again, pulling him forward roughly and quickly, closer to Swag’s body like it’s urgent and it can’t wait. Entre’s hands fly out from his sides and reflexively grab onto Swag’s thighs for resistance, and he’s a little surprised, but suddenly he’s face-to-face with something else.
Entre’s eyes flash upwards and meet with Swag’s, who’s giving him nothing more than a smirk to work from. In his mind, Entre is telling Swag that he can’t be serious- not with the way he’s approaching it- but his expression tells him that he is, and that he wants Entre to get to work. But Entre plays it up, all because, truth be told, Swag loves to dominate, and Entre loves to get dominated. But he won’t admit it, and he won’t admit how badly he wants to oblige his request either.
Nonetheless, Swag is getting impatient. In a swift movement he grunts and rolls his hips forward again, catching the corner of Entre’s lower lip with his tip grazing against it and it leaves a small streak of precum that glistens against his pretty lips in the moonlight. It’s both sexy and taunting in appearance from Swag’s perspective, and Entre wants to wipe it off and swallow it down so badly, but he won’t. It’s much better to tease him this way. And it only makes him more impatient.
“God fucking damn it, Entre,” Swag groans in a mixture of annoyance and arousal. He moves his hand back around the side of Entre’s face, tracing over his lips with his thumb again and wipes the streak from the corner of Entre’s mouth. He uses his index finger to prod at his lips slightly, and it takes Entre a minute before he finally parts them and sucks his fingers clean. He loves the taste, and it’s obvious even though he doesn’t want to show it.
“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that? Look at you, I know you’re so desperate for me. Look at how hard you are… you’re such a slut.”
Entre only looks back up at him with foggy eyes and a mischievous grin, and he’s just asking for it now. Swag can read him like a book, and it’s annoying how he tries to tease him instead of just doing what he wants. He’s tired of messing around: he pulls his thumb out of Entre’s mouth and swiftly grabs ahold of his hair once more, yanking him forward, only this time, Entres doesn’t hesitate, and instead he opens his mouth and willingly takes Swag’s length.
Being engulfed by wet heat causes Swag to whine above Entre and his whole body seems to momentarily tense up. He’s hot and thick in Entre’s mouth, the head coated in a layer of precum that tastes so good against his tongue. He’s sweet yet bitter and so delicious that it makes Entre’s head roll. It’s like he hasn’t tasted anything so good in months, and in reality, he probably hasn’t.
Swag groans above him, his mouth agape and his eyes glossy with the intense feeling of Entre’s mouth surrounding his tip. Entre’s lips are closed tightly around the head, sucking him in pulses as his tongue roams in circles and flicks against the underside. He lifts his hands, slipping one to knead sweetly over Swag’s waist and hip as the other gently pushes Swag’s hand off of his dick, letting it fall to his side so that he can take over.
He eases off slowly, dragging back his lips across his tip before slowly running them down the sides of Swag’s cock, lavishing him generously with kisses, licks and sucks. Swag is mumbling something above him, but Entre’s too focused on the task at hand to really care, too enthralled by what he’s doing. His hands roam down, lovingly squeezing and massaging Swag’s inner thighs as he continues to work his mouth over the tender skin. He can feel the beginnings of Swag shaking in anticipation, and it makes Entre smile behind his lips. He loves every minute of it and he wants it to last forever.
He flicks his tongue out at the base, dragging it up the underside of Swag’s length and briefly taking the head in his mouth for one deep suck before he’s back off of it again, running his lips against his shaft on the way back down. Swag is watching him from above, and he can feel every breath Entre exhales against him, warm and moist. His eyes are closed, and God, he looks so pretty with Swag’s dick in his mouth and he lets him know it by gently tugging on his hair.
“You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you? You’re so spoiled, look at how eager you are, and I just let you do it. I could have gotten myself off earlier and left you to watch, did you know-“
Swag interrupts his own words with a hitch in his breath and deep groan as Entre takes a few inches in his mouth, gently sucking and rolling his tongue against the underside. Swag pushes back with his hips carefully, biting his lip in temptation and watching Entre to make sure he’s not giving him more than he can work with. But he’s already far too good at this, and he swallows down Swag’s length like a pro until his nose is pressed flat against his groin. He holds himself their for a moment, swallowing around his cock and Swag tries to keep back a few throaty whines and a slur of cusses from how deep and hot he feels.
Slowly, Entre pulls back off Swag’s dick, popping off with a small gasp before he instantly curls his fingers around it. It’s warm and wet with his spit, and it makes his movements much easier, and no doubt more enjoyable.
He works in slow, drawn-out motions, just as Swag was doing to himself early, and he’s not sure if it was because he liked it or because it was a show, but it doesn’t really matter. He returns his lips and suckles softly on Swag’s tip as his hand twists with a rise and fall motion, gently squeezing at the base and releasing at the head. It takes everything that Swag has to not thrust into his mouth or to yell at him to go harder, faster, and instead, he rocks into the motion, biting down hard on his lower lips to keep his moans to a minimum, Entre purring softly beneath him.
The sensation is euphoric. Sometimes Entre takes him deep again, and those soft sounds reverberate against Swag’s shaft. He can’t help but shudder with intense pleasure and draw in a shaky breath. Entre’s throat is burning, he’s moaning like a bitch, and just with that strip of light Swag can see his rosy lips, his face splashed with spit and precum, and he doesn’t think he’s ever look hotter.
And Entre probably wouldn’t disagree. It doesn’t surprise him how badly he wants this, even less so how hard it’s making him. But Swag is too far gone and he knows it: the way his head rolls on his shoulders, his back arches to push even deeper into his throat, how he tugs on Entre’s dirty strands and runs his fingers through his hair. It only encourages him, but it makes it so much harder for his own arousal to be ignored.
One hand still pumping in rhythm with his sucks, Entre’s other hand slips down from Swag’s inner thigh, pausing to massage his balls before running it down his own leg and taking himself in his hand. He pumps himself hard and in time with his sucks on Swag’s cock, and the feeling makes him visibly tremble and groan against the older’s head. The sight causes Swag to bite his lip harder, and it feels like it sends a surge of electricity running through his veins.
“You’re so needy you can’t even wait. God, you work like a fuckin’ pro.”
His cock is throbbing in Entre’s throat by now, being stroked and sucked with expertise has him reducing to nothing more than a moaning heap. Entre’s working both of them in synchronization, his tongue lapping over the head of Swag’s dick and progressively stroking him harder and faster. A slur of curses, sighs and hisses push past Swag’s lips, and he needs to lean back against the wall, his legs nearly giving out on him. His orgasm is building in the pit of his stomach, hot like lava and make him dizzy with arousal, and it’s overpowering. He bites his lip harder and runs his fingers across Entre’s forehead and through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face to get a good look at him before he clenches the strands between his fingers.
Swag watches with fiery eyes as Entre follows his lead, sucking him hard as Swag pushes himself deep into that throat. His tongue rolls against the underside, sending pulses of pleasure coursing through his body, until Swag recoils his hips but firmly keeps Entre in place before he pushes back in again. He’s picking up speed with each thrust, and it’s not long until he’s moving hard and fast, thrusting relentlessly, clutching desperately and biting down hard on his lip in a futile effort to stifle his gasps of pleasure. Entre groans happily underneath him, letting the vibrations of his throat ring against Swag’s dick as he continues to twist and pump both of them with Swag’s rhythm. The curses are pouring out of Swag’s mouth from the sight and intense feeling, and his hands are fumbling to keep a hold on Entre’s dirty hair, who just keeps sucking, stroking, rocking around Swag’s dick in perfect timing, the intensity of his movements never dulling. It’s hot, it’s raw, it makes Swag’s breath hitch, the sensation in his gut burn hotter, and it feels fucking amazing.
Swag comes hard and abruptly, his whole body tensing before he buries himself deep into Entre’s throat with little regard. A deep groan pushes past his lips and his head falls back, eyes closed, one hand curling around Entre’s to keep him moving. His body is so alive in that moment, his back arches forward, tense and numb with pleasure, and he’s crying out from all the good feelings he’s not even sure he can say he’s felt before. At least not like this.
Entre swallows him down with ease, but before Swag’s even finished, Entre’s popping off of him with a shuddering gasp, moaning out a curse as he too finds his release. He comes hard into his hand, never ceasing to keep the other working on Swag, who watches breathlessly as Entre finishes himself off. He squirts a few more times onto Entre’s pretty, freckled face, dotting his lips with strands and a smile, and when they’re both done, Entre eagerly licks it off. He wipes his own cum on his pants before he resumes stroking, now moving lazily and giving a few more luscious sucks to Swag’s head to be sure he got it all. It makes the older hiss and shiver lightly with over-sensitivity.
Swag finally releases the tight grip he had on Entre’s hair, letting his hands fall to his side and exhaling a deep breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. Entre pulls away slowly and wipes his lips and face before curling his arms around Swag’s waist. He gently kisses his stomach, then looks up at him with a tired, but genuine smile. Swag reciprocates and strokes the messy hair out of Entre’s eyes.
“I think I finally found a way to shut you up.”