Geoffrey sleeps like the dead. it's not that he and Duck don't normally have an active and healthy sex life, but honeymoon sex really is something else. He'd never believed that when people told him, but it's all true
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"Morning," Duck echoes sleepily. He'd been worried when they first set out - napping in a hammock was one thing, sleeping the night in it is quite another.
But he feels good, especially for a man of forty three. Hell, he feels downright refreshed. "S'like you fucked twenty years right out of me," he slurs, still drifting.
"Can't believe how comfortable this thing is," Duck agrees, turning his head and trying to blow some of Geoffrey's hair out of his eyes. It takes a moment for him to realize the wayward strands are blond. "Jesus. You've been in the sun too much."
This, in of itself, is not unusual. Nor is the enthusiasm Duck's putting into it.
What is unusual is the way Geoffrey's body has arched into a perfect bow, his balled fists and planted feet practically the only parts of him still touching the ground. Duck puts his hands on Geoffrey's hips for the tenth time, trying to wrestle him back to the ground without taking his tongue from the head of Geoffrey's cock.
"Let me let me let me," murmurs Geoffrey, pushing back against him with an energy he hadn't imagined was possible at this point. Duck's mouth feels incredible, teasing and soothing him at once.
"Nhm-hmm," Duck hums, reveling in the renewed strength it gives to Geoffrey's protests. To be fair, he'd brought Geoffrey to this point on purpose, sucking him right to the brink and backing off again with tiny, teasing licks. He pushes Geoffrey's hips down again, trying to climb on top of his legs to hold him.
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But he feels good, especially for a man of forty three. Hell, he feels downright refreshed. "S'like you fucked twenty years right out of me," he slurs, still drifting.
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Nothing cracks.
"Shit, we oughta get out like this more often," he says, blinking his eyes open to give Duck a grin.
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He's brushing Duck's hair out of the way before he realises he's brushing Duck's hair out of the way.
"Whoa."
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This, in of itself, is not unusual. Nor is the enthusiasm Duck's putting into it.
What is unusual is the way Geoffrey's body has arched into a perfect bow, his balled fists and planted feet practically the only parts of him still touching the ground. Duck puts his hands on Geoffrey's hips for the tenth time, trying to wrestle him back to the ground without taking his tongue from the head of Geoffrey's cock.
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He kind of hopes Duck tries. But only if it means he doesn't stop.
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