Ficlet: Swelter - Graham/Riley NC17
Written for obsessedmuch who wanted Graham/Riley in the jungle. Her Larness apparently inspires me to, er, smuttiness.
=Swelter=
"You smell like sex," Riley whispers, his nose pressed against the base of Graham's dick.
Seven hours of lying here, naked, sweating buckets and being driven mad by the stifling heat of the jungle instead of sleeping like his exhausted body needs. "I smell of stink," he whispers back.
Riley inhales for a long moment, exhales hot breath and a low, deep groan against Graham's skin that makes his dick start to fill, slowly, lazily, like an effort. Everything's an effort here, even arousal. The air presses in from every direction in the jungle, thick and wet and humid and godawful hot, compresses Graham's body like a boa constrictor until all he can do is give in and be squeezed.
A flick of tongue, wetness that Graham imagines he can see evaporating off of him in a dusky white cloud. Riley's mouth, opening and licking. Sucking. Tasting. Breathing. All round the root of Graham's dick, in the creases of his thighs, down lower. Graham lies there, too heat drugged to thrust, or touch, or anything at all, and Riley has to move his legs for him, part them.
Cloying moist breath that almost brings up heat blisters where it lands. Sweaty heat rolling off of Riley in waves that make Graham dizzy. Pleasure that presses Graham down, constricts his muscles and bones, wrings him dry through his pores. The boiling inferno that is Riley's mouth around his cock, sucking hard, swallowing around it, throat muscles like rippling scales.
Coming is like dying quietly and Graham barely moves, barely makes a sound. It happens and the release is hardly felt, just deeply experienced. Riley works his way up Graham's body, changes them around, and then Graham is lying on the blast furnace that is Riley's chest, Riley's hard dick thrusting up between Graham's sweat and come drenched thighs. Slick friction for Riley, lassitude for Graham, and Graham rides the undulating waves of Riley's body when Riley's breath catches and his dick pulses.
Graham wants to move, away from body heat and warm come that won't dry off and the press of flesh that will coax gallons of sweat from his skin, but he's tired, worn out, exhausted, and it's greater than the heat for the first time all day, and Graham sleeps.
*
Yeah, I can't believe I wrote that at work, either.
=Swelter=
"You smell like sex," Riley whispers, his nose pressed against the base of Graham's dick.
Seven hours of lying here, naked, sweating buckets and being driven mad by the stifling heat of the jungle instead of sleeping like his exhausted body needs. "I smell of stink," he whispers back.
Riley inhales for a long moment, exhales hot breath and a low, deep groan against Graham's skin that makes his dick start to fill, slowly, lazily, like an effort. Everything's an effort here, even arousal. The air presses in from every direction in the jungle, thick and wet and humid and godawful hot, compresses Graham's body like a boa constrictor until all he can do is give in and be squeezed.
A flick of tongue, wetness that Graham imagines he can see evaporating off of him in a dusky white cloud. Riley's mouth, opening and licking. Sucking. Tasting. Breathing. All round the root of Graham's dick, in the creases of his thighs, down lower. Graham lies there, too heat drugged to thrust, or touch, or anything at all, and Riley has to move his legs for him, part them.
Cloying moist breath that almost brings up heat blisters where it lands. Sweaty heat rolling off of Riley in waves that make Graham dizzy. Pleasure that presses Graham down, constricts his muscles and bones, wrings him dry through his pores. The boiling inferno that is Riley's mouth around his cock, sucking hard, swallowing around it, throat muscles like rippling scales.
Coming is like dying quietly and Graham barely moves, barely makes a sound. It happens and the release is hardly felt, just deeply experienced. Riley works his way up Graham's body, changes them around, and then Graham is lying on the blast furnace that is Riley's chest, Riley's hard dick thrusting up between Graham's sweat and come drenched thighs. Slick friction for Riley, lassitude for Graham, and Graham rides the undulating waves of Riley's body when Riley's breath catches and his dick pulses.
Graham wants to move, away from body heat and warm come that won't dry off and the press of flesh that will coax gallons of sweat from his skin, but he's tired, worn out, exhausted, and it's greater than the heat for the first time all day, and Graham sleeps.
*
Yeah, I can't believe I wrote that at work, either.