DrWorm (drworm) wrote,

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More Squall and Laguna... teasing can be so fun...

Squall pushed himself into the other man’s lap, tangling his fingers in the stiff shirt lapels that were irritating his hands. He licked and sucked his way down the man’s jaw to his ear, where he paused just slightly. “I want…I want to suck your cock,” he whispered airily, absently allowing his hands to travel down the strong chest before him, “Will you let me?”
There was a moment where Squall actually felt the man preparing to give a negative answer, perhaps by pushing his clingy self away or letting the petite, chestnut-haired man fall ass-first to the floor. It was an uncomfortable moment, one which Squall supplemented with more sloppy kisses and roaming hands. The hesitation was tangible, until Squall’s long, delicate fingers touched the zipper of the other man’s slacks.
Hesitation was no longer an issue. Now the older man was practically forceful in his eagerness for this particular act. Squall found his body slithering between the man’s legs, his knees touching the ground and holding him steady. A hand was on the back of his skull, resting there, gently stroking his thick hair. It felt good, and Squall pressed his cheek into the inside of the man’s thigh, sighing with pleasure. He enjoyed teasing quite thoroughly; it let him savor the feelings of being wanted.
With one shaking hand, Squall began to stroke the man’s lower stomach, moving very slowly and gently to his thigh, and then to his knee. He heard a sharp intake of air, a blatant sound of worry and impatience, and smiled. Nudging the thigh his head was resting on, he commenced kneading the opposite knee, putting steady and gentle pressure on it. He began to move forward, head bumping against simulated flesh in a show of appreciation. The handhold on the back of his head was tightening; Squall could feel himself being pushed forward until he was face to face with a straining zipper. Laborious breathing assaulted his ears.
Squall shifted his hands to the man’s hips, allowing himself a certain amount of control when it came to pace and depth. He had yet to become completely accustomed to administering fellatio and needed, in that respect, to allow a certain amount of control over his own body and its limitations.
Awkwardly, Squall unbuttoned and unzipped the man’s trousers, fingertips lingering shamelessly on the soft material. He then pushed the folds of cloth out of his way, fingers seeking underwear and finding it, tugging it down slightly. As his nails trailed down the sensitive flesh of a very thick erection, he heard the man gasp in his ear and felt the once gentle grip tighten almost painfully on his hair. Blood pounded heavily in Squall’s ears, a gentle reminder of the throbbing acceleration of his heartbeat. Gently, he took the dripping, tumescent head into his mouth, lightly applying minimal suction.
It earned him a hiss. He ran his tongue languidly over the very tip, pressing with more force, but limiting the overall surface area he affected. A forceful pump of the hips was his return, the sudden motion sending the foreign entity further down Squall’s inexperienced throat. The boy began to gag at the penetration and used his position to his advantage, pushing back on the man to free himself.
There was a marked change in the emotions of the room as Squall pulled his mouth off the man and turned his head to the side, wiping his lips in disgust and covertly attempting to settle his upset stomach. Silently, he willed the nausea to dissipate. I will not puke, I will not vomit.
A heavy, warm hand brushed his cheek delicately, silently questioning Squall’s state of mind. It traced a very tender line from Squall’s cheek to his jaw, gently tipping his head back to the center.
Squall stifled a sob and kept his eyes tightly shut. He felt dull and naïve because he couldn’t do this one thing, this one stupid thing, for something as inconsequential as a computer simulation. His eyes had begun to tear with frustration and all he wanted to do was lie back on the soft bed and bawl his aggravation into the pillows.
The man’s hands gently caressed the back of Squall’s head, not asking for anything but simply comforting. They laid his head in the warm consolation of his lap, petting the thick hair kindly. After several long moments, the hands moved down and affectionately hoisted Squall the same way one would pick up a small child. The hands lifted and sat him on the man’s lap, embracing his shoulders firmly and tipping his head into the crook of the man’s neck.
Squall sighed. He felt fingertips tracing over his inert face, brushing most noticeably over his scar and his closed eyes. The pressure felt soothing, as if those fingers were taking his dissatisfactory performance away with their passing. He felt drained and tired, suddenly, sitting on the lap of this falsified image of a man he was longing for.
“Dad,” he mumbled beneath his breath, half wanted to see the reaction, half relishing in the solace of the epithet. The elder man tensed for a moment before Squall heard the slight sound of air escaping.
“Shhh,” the man began to rock him, “Shhh, shhh, shhh.” It was calming and oh-so-wonderful for Squall to feel the half-paternal, half-loverly emotions being transmitted from the actions of the replicated man and into his body. He felt warmth radiating from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his toes, rejuvenating the feelings of arousal he thought he’d lost. With slow, simple movements, Squall nuzzled his cheek into the flesh at the man’s open collar, enjoying the heat and warmth and feel of software-conjured blood beneath holographically simulated skin.
The young man curled his arms around the other’s powerful neck, pushing them up and slightly into the long, black hair of his embracer. Thin, obsidian-colored locks curled around his greedy fingers as Squall murmured: “Undress me.”

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