Playing Dirty (Prompt 14, Hugh/Callum)
Playing Dirty
Hugh/Callum, R, 296 words
The alley was filthy, garbage from what seemed like the last few days strewn around. It stank, enough to make him want to choke, but Hugh had Callum plastered against the brick wall, and that was enough to override everything bad.
Because Callum was panting and pushing back, not giving an inch, giving nothing, and Hugh had fucking wanted him since he'd stepped onto stage. The entire time that Callum grinned up at him, from underneath his eyelashes like he did in movies or with fucking chicks, taking long, slow drags on his cigarette.
He knew they were supposed to leave town, that the bus was waiting, but Hugh didn't give a fuck, not at all, because he had his face buried in Callum's neck and Callum's hand on his dick, and they could have been in a dirty, disgusting alley or Callum's loft or anywhere, for all he gave a shit.
"Come on, you fucking cunt," he gasped into Callum's ear, pushing into his hard to feel the shudder through his body.
"Fuck you," Callum said back, his voice fucking wrecked, and he was only a few moments before Hugh was coming all over the inside of Callum's wrist and his own pants, coming like a fucking tidal wave, wiping out everything. He tried to fucking hold it together, enough to stay on his feet, keep Callum against the wall.
Callum's arms were up around him now, helping him out, and Hugh let himself lean forward. Let Callum take his weight. "Fuck," he whispered, and Callum laughed, soft and low and if Hugh was twenty, he might be ready to go again.
Instead, he was trying to figure out if he cared enough about his jeans to kneel down in the fucking alley to suck Callum's dick.
My prompt table
Hugh/Callum, R, 296 words
The alley was filthy, garbage from what seemed like the last few days strewn around. It stank, enough to make him want to choke, but Hugh had Callum plastered against the brick wall, and that was enough to override everything bad.
Because Callum was panting and pushing back, not giving an inch, giving nothing, and Hugh had fucking wanted him since he'd stepped onto stage. The entire time that Callum grinned up at him, from underneath his eyelashes like he did in movies or with fucking chicks, taking long, slow drags on his cigarette.
He knew they were supposed to leave town, that the bus was waiting, but Hugh didn't give a fuck, not at all, because he had his face buried in Callum's neck and Callum's hand on his dick, and they could have been in a dirty, disgusting alley or Callum's loft or anywhere, for all he gave a shit.
"Come on, you fucking cunt," he gasped into Callum's ear, pushing into his hard to feel the shudder through his body.
"Fuck you," Callum said back, his voice fucking wrecked, and he was only a few moments before Hugh was coming all over the inside of Callum's wrist and his own pants, coming like a fucking tidal wave, wiping out everything. He tried to fucking hold it together, enough to stay on his feet, keep Callum against the wall.
Callum's arms were up around him now, helping him out, and Hugh let himself lean forward. Let Callum take his weight. "Fuck," he whispered, and Callum laughed, soft and low and if Hugh was twenty, he might be ready to go again.
Instead, he was trying to figure out if he cared enough about his jeans to kneel down in the fucking alley to suck Callum's dick.
My prompt table