Carmy pushes up onto an elbow, and not because of the ass touch. "Sorry, should I call and ask Natalie if she's down for you to fuck her instead?" Carmy bitches, watercolour pink spreading over the bridge of his nose. "No shit it's fucking gay. Fuckface." He collapses back flat again, presses a palm to the bridge of his nose. "Fuck!"
Doesn't close his legs, though. Glances, annoyed, through his lashes. Richie is backlit by the golden doorway. "Just do what you did in the walk in," he says, with the typical Carmy exasperation he gets when other people don't keep up with him, "Except faster, and better."
Sure, Carmy. He's shivering softly, not from cold, because there is a weird emotional aspect to Richie sitting there and fingering him. Vulnerable, terrifying, deeply erotic. He draws his lip through his teeth, trying not to get in his head about it: "You watch fucking Drag Race?"
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Doesn't close his legs, though. Glances, annoyed, through his lashes. Richie is backlit by the golden doorway. "Just do what you did in the walk in," he says, with the typical Carmy exasperation he gets when other people don't keep up with him, "Except faster, and better."
Sure, Carmy. He's shivering softly, not from cold, because there is a weird emotional aspect to Richie sitting there and fingering him. Vulnerable, terrifying, deeply erotic. He draws his lip through his teeth, trying not to get in his head about it: "You watch fucking Drag Race?"