Part Four
"Where is my master the rebel prince
Who will shut all of these windows
It's these windows all around me
It's these windows who are telling me
To rid my dirty mind of all of its preciousness."
Oz/Andrew slash, post-ftvs
Oz and Andrew belong to Monseuir Whedon
Lyrics by Rufus Wainwright
Oz was haunted.
Andrew was haunted.
They were also both pantless in the back of a forest green van.
Oz had his mouth wrapped around Andrew's dick, running his tongue around the head. Mouth full of dick. Demons recessed at this point. Sexual elation, other than crime fighting, was when the thoughts of the death, blood and murder were the farthest away. He was pleasing Andrew who needed it more than anyone else he had ever met. Andrew, somehow he was fucking and making love in the same instant, the symbiotic needs of the other, feeding off each other's obligations.
Symbiosis, Andrew thought. He was totally the lichen on Oz's tree. Feeling close to letting his cum splash down Oz's throat, he pulled back, not wanting the moment to be over. Andrew wanted to give more to Oz, more than just his cum. Scared and shy, how did he say it? How could he tell him what he wanted? Oz's dick in his ass. Ultimate sacrifice, pain and pleasure. He reached down to Oz's head, letting his dick slip noisily from Oz's wet mouth, "Oz, will you, I mean can I...please?"
"Never beg anyone, Andy." Oz said as his face hovered above Andrew's, inches away, just like his cock was inches away from Andrew's ass. In all truth, Oz didn't mind hearing a little begging from the lithe boy beneath him, but this encounter was about more than what he wanted. It was a teaching lesson. Gentle and firm, pressure and release. Oz reached his hand down to between Andrew's legs, cupping his ass cheek. He softly split the cheeks apart, rubbing his thumb up against Andrew's sweet spot. His other rooted firmly in Andrew's blond hair.
Intense pleasure. Andrew could only think in certain terms, generally expressing himself through moans. As Oz entered his ass with fingers, tightness constricting and then loosening, Andrew wanted to cry. Not pain cry, but relief cry. Someone wanted him for him, wanted his sex and manhood. Never before had Andrew been an equal. He relaxed into the pressure and the thought of likening it to Star Wars never even entered his mind.
Oz could feel Andrew loosen up and knew he was ready for it, rather for him, Oz, to penetrate him with more than digits. He looked Andrew straight into those big eyes, kissed him sweetly on the mouth and then eased his cock into Andrew's sweet, tight, virgin ass. Oz struggled to retain composure as he pushed in all the way to the hilt. He wanted to fuck, hard and deep. Holding back was Oz's specialty. He had learned to control the wolf at will, but this sex was special. Not able to put his finger on the reason why, but yes, this was special. Not just the redemption, the souls damned to hell for past murders, two boys and no future.
Explanation seemed to leave Andrew. How could he describe this to someone? He remembered people, Warren maybe, trying to describe the act of sex to him. Andrew couldn't even imagine it, well he imagined it, but understanding it was a whole different clone war. He wanted Oz to give him more, he started to push a little. Lifting his ass off the floor of the van, he began to help the long strokes penetrating him.
Was Andrew helping? Oz could feel Andrew move to the sway of the rhythm. Like playing chords, they were the hands and strings meshed together to create a sort of perfection. Oz slid his hands down to Andrew's trim waist, pushing him forward onto his penis, as he relaxed back onto his knees. Having Andrew like this in his van, deep and hot, Oz had hardly known what to expect. Maybe a quick hand job or giving Andrew a good talking to, he hadn't been sure. Now melting together, it didn't feel so much like a mission, but a passion that had been between them that held them in a state of awkwardness.
Moaning for more, Andrew and Oz moved together, both almost in a state of Nirvana. Surpassing and being enveloped by passion, intensity and each other. Looking at the two from a distance, they could have been lovers forever. As if they already knew where to place hands, how to find that special place that never failed to please the other, how to make the other one cum so hard that exhaustion took over.
Oz began to pump harder at Andrew's ass, working himself up to the breaking point. Seeing Andrew writhing beneath him, sweating and perfect, Oz almost couldn't wait. He could feel Andrew building, though. Carefully, he placed his hand on Andrew's penis wanting to and not wanting to push him over the edge, but at the same time rubbing fiercely against his prostate.
Andrew was no longer just Andrew. He was the amazing wide whole universe with his deathstar being brought to the brink of explosion by rebel forces. He wanted to beg for it to never stop. For this instant of intense boy contact, the very edge of pleasure to never release back into the real world, the one with pain and sorrow and unease. Reaching hands up towards Oz, he pulled his face down into his. Andrew felt their hot moist breath melding together. As he came, he arched his back up, wanting it harder and deeper, moans so loud all of Cleveland could hear.
As Andrew spasmed around his cock, Oz could not hold back any longer. He pulled his dick out, splashing cum over Andrew's belly, mixing together their sperm. Exhausted, he fell forward onto Andrew, holding him close at the end of ecstasy.
How long could it, that is everything, stay like this? They asked themselves, in the communication of the body still connected.
Who will shut all of these windows
It's these windows all around me
It's these windows who are telling me
To rid my dirty mind of all of its preciousness."
Oz/Andrew slash, post-ftvs
Oz and Andrew belong to Monseuir Whedon
Lyrics by Rufus Wainwright
Oz was haunted.
Andrew was haunted.
They were also both pantless in the back of a forest green van.
Oz had his mouth wrapped around Andrew's dick, running his tongue around the head. Mouth full of dick. Demons recessed at this point. Sexual elation, other than crime fighting, was when the thoughts of the death, blood and murder were the farthest away. He was pleasing Andrew who needed it more than anyone else he had ever met. Andrew, somehow he was fucking and making love in the same instant, the symbiotic needs of the other, feeding off each other's obligations.
Symbiosis, Andrew thought. He was totally the lichen on Oz's tree. Feeling close to letting his cum splash down Oz's throat, he pulled back, not wanting the moment to be over. Andrew wanted to give more to Oz, more than just his cum. Scared and shy, how did he say it? How could he tell him what he wanted? Oz's dick in his ass. Ultimate sacrifice, pain and pleasure. He reached down to Oz's head, letting his dick slip noisily from Oz's wet mouth, "Oz, will you, I mean can I...please?"
"Never beg anyone, Andy." Oz said as his face hovered above Andrew's, inches away, just like his cock was inches away from Andrew's ass. In all truth, Oz didn't mind hearing a little begging from the lithe boy beneath him, but this encounter was about more than what he wanted. It was a teaching lesson. Gentle and firm, pressure and release. Oz reached his hand down to between Andrew's legs, cupping his ass cheek. He softly split the cheeks apart, rubbing his thumb up against Andrew's sweet spot. His other rooted firmly in Andrew's blond hair.
Intense pleasure. Andrew could only think in certain terms, generally expressing himself through moans. As Oz entered his ass with fingers, tightness constricting and then loosening, Andrew wanted to cry. Not pain cry, but relief cry. Someone wanted him for him, wanted his sex and manhood. Never before had Andrew been an equal. He relaxed into the pressure and the thought of likening it to Star Wars never even entered his mind.
Oz could feel Andrew loosen up and knew he was ready for it, rather for him, Oz, to penetrate him with more than digits. He looked Andrew straight into those big eyes, kissed him sweetly on the mouth and then eased his cock into Andrew's sweet, tight, virgin ass. Oz struggled to retain composure as he pushed in all the way to the hilt. He wanted to fuck, hard and deep. Holding back was Oz's specialty. He had learned to control the wolf at will, but this sex was special. Not able to put his finger on the reason why, but yes, this was special. Not just the redemption, the souls damned to hell for past murders, two boys and no future.
Explanation seemed to leave Andrew. How could he describe this to someone? He remembered people, Warren maybe, trying to describe the act of sex to him. Andrew couldn't even imagine it, well he imagined it, but understanding it was a whole different clone war. He wanted Oz to give him more, he started to push a little. Lifting his ass off the floor of the van, he began to help the long strokes penetrating him.
Was Andrew helping? Oz could feel Andrew move to the sway of the rhythm. Like playing chords, they were the hands and strings meshed together to create a sort of perfection. Oz slid his hands down to Andrew's trim waist, pushing him forward onto his penis, as he relaxed back onto his knees. Having Andrew like this in his van, deep and hot, Oz had hardly known what to expect. Maybe a quick hand job or giving Andrew a good talking to, he hadn't been sure. Now melting together, it didn't feel so much like a mission, but a passion that had been between them that held them in a state of awkwardness.
Moaning for more, Andrew and Oz moved together, both almost in a state of Nirvana. Surpassing and being enveloped by passion, intensity and each other. Looking at the two from a distance, they could have been lovers forever. As if they already knew where to place hands, how to find that special place that never failed to please the other, how to make the other one cum so hard that exhaustion took over.
Oz began to pump harder at Andrew's ass, working himself up to the breaking point. Seeing Andrew writhing beneath him, sweating and perfect, Oz almost couldn't wait. He could feel Andrew building, though. Carefully, he placed his hand on Andrew's penis wanting to and not wanting to push him over the edge, but at the same time rubbing fiercely against his prostate.
Andrew was no longer just Andrew. He was the amazing wide whole universe with his deathstar being brought to the brink of explosion by rebel forces. He wanted to beg for it to never stop. For this instant of intense boy contact, the very edge of pleasure to never release back into the real world, the one with pain and sorrow and unease. Reaching hands up towards Oz, he pulled his face down into his. Andrew felt their hot moist breath melding together. As he came, he arched his back up, wanting it harder and deeper, moans so loud all of Cleveland could hear.
As Andrew spasmed around his cock, Oz could not hold back any longer. He pulled his dick out, splashing cum over Andrew's belly, mixing together their sperm. Exhausted, he fell forward onto Andrew, holding him close at the end of ecstasy.
How long could it, that is everything, stay like this? They asked themselves, in the communication of the body still connected.