He lets out a shuddering gasp at the squeeze, more grateful than anything. He'd just as soon not completely humiliate himself, and even with that quelling grip he's sure this is going to be embarrassingly quick. He can't look away, can't see anything but the almost rapturous look on Jedao's face as he works him with his mouth, can't feel anything but slick, wet heat, pressure and friction.
He wants to babble endearments, pleas and promises, but he's saved that particular humiliation by the need to keep quiet, and instead he sucks in great, open-mouthed breaths, his chest heaving as his hips twitch restlessly. The urge to thrust up into that perfect mouth, to push deeper, to take, is almost overwhelming, but he just splays his thighs wider, tugs ungently at Jedao's hair, and drops Jedao's glove--spit-damp and somewhat mangled--on the cushion next to him so he can reach out and trace the line of Jedao's lips with his thumb, feel where his cock slips past them.
"Fuck," he gasps, voice ragged, silence forgotten as his whole body tenses and releases in rhythm with the slide of Jedao's mouth along his shaft. He wants it to last, he wants it to last forever, jesus, just wet heat and friction and that look on Jedao's face, but he can feel the tension in his spine, the heat in his belly, coiling to the breaking point, and he knows it's not going to. "Fuck, Jedao... your fucking... fucking mouth." He tugs urgently on his hair in warning, trying to urge him up and away, and then he's not thinking of anything but the heat-lightning of release unspooling up his spine and thrumming along his nerves, and he just barely has the presence of mind to shove the side of his fist into his mouth and bite down hard as he comes.
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He wants to babble endearments, pleas and promises, but he's saved that particular humiliation by the need to keep quiet, and instead he sucks in great, open-mouthed breaths, his chest heaving as his hips twitch restlessly. The urge to thrust up into that perfect mouth, to push deeper, to take, is almost overwhelming, but he just splays his thighs wider, tugs ungently at Jedao's hair, and drops Jedao's glove--spit-damp and somewhat mangled--on the cushion next to him so he can reach out and trace the line of Jedao's lips with his thumb, feel where his cock slips past them.
"Fuck," he gasps, voice ragged, silence forgotten as his whole body tenses and releases in rhythm with the slide of Jedao's mouth along his shaft. He wants it to last, he wants it to last forever, jesus, just wet heat and friction and that look on Jedao's face, but he can feel the tension in his spine, the heat in his belly, coiling to the breaking point, and he knows it's not going to. "Fuck, Jedao... your fucking... fucking mouth." He tugs urgently on his hair in warning, trying to urge him up and away, and then he's not thinking of anything but the heat-lightning of release unspooling up his spine and thrumming along his nerves, and he just barely has the presence of mind to shove the side of his fist into his mouth and bite down hard as he comes.