Work Text:
It had been too long since you’d seen him. Smelled the sweetness of his presence, felt his body against yours. You never saw yourself as having a sweet tooth, but Harvey… you crave him. Perhaps you’ve gotten too invested in him, but you can’t find a way to make it seem wrong. Simply put, he’s worth the attention. At least to you. He’s genuine, and sweet. And, of course, pretty. And you never could resist pretty little things.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket one morning, the short vibration to indicate a text. You grimace, planning on switching off your phone if you see even a glimpse of your boss’ name (because by god you are not covering another shift) when, instead, Harvey’s name pops up. Your day is made when he tells you he’s free, when he sends you a full paragraph chatting about wanting to see you. It’s almost silly, how excited you get. But he’s worth it.
You’ve had him as yours a few times now, since that first day when you spotted his little booth. You’ve come to learn so much about him, his body. You know what to do to make his legs shake, you know he covers his face when he’s close to the edge. How he licks his lips as a nervous tick. You can feel the phantom warmth of his waist in your grip. And yet, you’ve never grown bored of it. Of him. Going on a funfair ride a hundred times is bound to become predictable, but not Harvey. And the thought of having him again, now, after so many weeks, enthralls you in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe you are obsessed.
It’s sunset when you finally get to pick him up from his usual spot. The sky-toned suit. The candyfloss hair. That sugary smile. A walking carnival just for you. He’s… different from when you last saw him. Not so thin anymore. Instead his frame is more reliable, muscular. Not by any huge stretch, but you’re so familiar with Harvey’s body that it’s easy for you to notice these things. He doesn’t look so tired either. And when he hugs you, he’s lacking that breakable element to his frame. You wonder if it means you’ll get to be rougher with him, but tonight, you’re not sure if you want to push in that direction.
But that doesn’t mean you haven’t got any fun ideas. That doesn’t mean he won’t cry.
“We went on vacation!” Harvey explains, and you drive around the same few blocks in your minivan just so you can listen to him talk. “It was Toby’s first time going abroad - the planes terrified him though, poor little lad, we’d have taken the ferry but I get sea-sick and…” He pauses then, giving a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I know you don’t want to know my whole life’s story. I just get carried away.”
You pull up to your house and lean over, planting a comforting kiss on his cheek. He smells just like vanilla, but coffee too. It surprises you, rich and strong. You quite like it.
“I just mean… that’s why I’ve been away for so long.” Harvey turns to you, those blue eyes enchanting you, and what amuses you most is that you know he doesn’t even mean to. “I’m sorry I left you hanging… did you miss me?” Oh, that smile. Now that is on purpose.
Of course you missed him. You make it obvious enough when you kiss him again, his familiar taste on your tongue feeling like home. You feel Harvey lean into the kiss; an excited shiver runs over you when he licks your bottom lip, a request. You give in, pressing forward to deepen the kiss until you can feel the soft little exhales he makes between your lips. It’s all so familiar, so comforting.
“We should… you should take me inside.” He whispers against your lips. “Before we get carried away. Sound good?”
If it was up to you, you’d have him in the back of the minivan just like old times, but the thought of Harvey in your bed again, of the sheets smelling like him after, is too much for you to say no to. So you take him inside, set up the counter on the nightstand where it usually goes, and before you know it you’re sitting on the bed and he’s in your lap. He’s letting you kiss down his neck, so obedient. His thighs are a bigger handful now, the grip more satisfying when your fingers press into muscle. You wonder how they’ll feel around your waist.
“You noticed?” Harvey breathes, arching his back to press himself further into you. It’s an amazing feeling, and you’ve longed for it terribly, like an animal missing its limb. “I’ve been going back to the gym. Do you like it? Do you want to see?” He puts his hands over yours, stroking his thumbs across your knuckles. When you look up at him, he’s confident, but there’s a pink dusting over his features. “There’s… actually something specific I wanted to show you. A surprise.”
Reluctantly, the curiosity winning out over your desperation, you let him get up. You realise it’s worth it when he begins taking his clothes off, folding his jacket and draping it over a chair. Of course, he leaves the bowtie on, knowing how fond you’ve grown of it - in truth, you like to pretend it’s a collar of sorts.
He’s slow, and you can’t tell if it’s deliberate or if he’s nervous. Despite your possessiveness, you doubt he’s been with anyone else (except maybe his wife, but you try not to think about that), so this must be the first time in a while that he’s been in this situation. You stroke along his side, wanting to soothe his nerves. And he smiles, so appreciative, and he removes his top. It’s easy to tell that he’s been working out - he’s not ripped by any means, but he’s more toned now. He’s lost some of that softness you’ve been craving, but there’s muscle in its wake.
His nipples are a break from the expanse of creamy skin. They’re a pretty shade, rosy, and they’re already perking up at the sudden exposure to the air’s natural chill. Your mouth waters and your heart pounds, knowing it’s barely a matter of minutes before you can have every inch of him between your jaws. You reach out and stroke down his stomach, feeling the underlying hardness there, that assuring strength - and then you notice something unusual.
Dark blue straps are poking out from around his belt. You look up at Harvey, who’s gone raspberry-pink in the face, and he lets out a high-pitched chuckle. “This is, uh… the surprise.”
You watch, unblinking, as he removes his slacks, revealing… panties. What looks like some kind of thong, specifically. Dark blue, almost black as night, making his creamy skin look even paler by comparison. There’s a shimmer to them as well, like starlight. You don’t feel your jaw dropping, you’re too busy taking in the way the straps squeeze his hips, the way his bulge is outlined by the shiny fabric, the candyfloss happy trail leading down from his stomach into the thong. It almost looks like an invitation.
“I uh,” Harvey’s fiddling with his fingers, clearly fighting the urge to cover himself, “I went to one of those special shops, you know…? They said these were… good fabric for this sort of thing. ‘Smooth’, I think.” He’s watching for your reaction, beginning to babble while your blood sinks all the way down to your lap. “Is it weird? This was definitely in the men’s section - it’s weird isn’t it? We can pretend this didn’t happen if you want.”
You get up and grab his hips; his skin is so warm in your hands, heated from embarrassment until he feels like a little oven. The gasp he makes when you push him against the wall sends a pulse through your cock, and you can’t help but stroke along the surface of the material. Whoever sold these to your sweet man was right - the thong is smooth, silky. They’re probably made of something synthetic, but it feels amazing to touch. They match him well.
He moans, keening into your grasp. “You - ah - like it?”
You nod, because of course you do - he’s beautiful. Harvey’s smile is one of relief, despite how flustered he still is. You palm at his crotch, always eager to make him squirm, knowing how much he loves it. “You really have missed me, huh?” He practically purrs once he gets used to the sensation. “They said… hm, in the store, they said these have a good glide for if you wanted my thighs…”
The cogs in your brain began spinning - he didn’t buy them for himself, he bought them for you. To feel.
To use.
You’re barely registering how you turn him over to face the wall, the rush of Harvey’s body boiling your blood, his back an expanse of sweetness, all of it slowing your mind to a crawl until only instincts could win the race of thought. The thong is a perfect g-string, a tiny blue triangle at Harvey’s tailbone that simply disappears between -
You nearly lose your load at the sight of his rear. Round, more toned than before - you hadn’t thought he was capable of being any prettier, yet here you are ghosting your fingers over the pink-toned peach fuzz across the surface of his globes. And when you squeeze - he gasps so sweetly - it’s like gripping a marshmallow.
There’s soft laughter as you use both hands to squish the lovely flesh, pulling each cheek apart to see just how little that string of fabric covers - barely anything, it turns out. His hole, the same shade as his nipples, is too much to let yourself look at for now. You can’t let what’s left of your mind get carried away, not when you’re throbbing so hard in your jeans it almost hurts. But you promise to commit that exact shade of pink to memory when you’re done with him.
You like the way he peaks over his shoulder when you push down your pants, your boxers going down with them. It’s a dream to see the expression on his face when you spot him looking, that shift from excitement to embarrassment upon being caught out. It turns his face the same shade as his hair, the colour even fluttering down his neck. He’s delicious.
All yours.
It’s not long before the lube is in your hand, before you’re stroking it between his legs and listening to the symphony of Harvey’s soft little sighs. His innermost thighs grip your hand better now he’s been working out, and you almost see white at the thought of feeling that flesh around your dick. The counter ticks on, eating away your most recent paycheck as you slide yourself in the little slot between his thighs.
It’s heaven here. Just heaven. Warm and sugar-scented, and the first drag of your cock between his slicked thighs causes you to lose any attempt at self-control. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to grab Harvey’s hips, press him into the closest piece of furniture, fatten up his bank account by fucking him silly.
When he tilts his head to the side, you take the invitation and bite. Perhaps he only wanted a kiss, but he’s certainly not complaining as your teeth clamp down onto his neck. You almost imagine a piece of him coming away between your jaws, revealing a soft centre inside. And god, the sounds he begins to make. You like making him loud, but this… these soft little moans, encouraging chuckles, the wet slap of skin and fabric, it’s all you could ever want. The way your cock is hugged by a tunnel of wet is all you could ever need from this world, between the heat of his inner thighs to the silky glide of that thong - he’s hard too, you can feel it. It would be impossible not to, given there’s only one flimsy layer of material keeping you both apart.
You’re gripping his hips hard enough for your knuckles to go white, but he never complains or tries to pull away. Even in your lust-driven haze, you would notice a wince, or him grabbing at your wrists in protest. From your other sessions with Harvey, you’ve come to recognize the different ways in which his body can say ‘no’, but you’re getting no such signals. It encourages you to quicken your thrusts, to squeeze his thighs closer together until he may as well be some kind of strange mermaid. It already feels like a fantasy whenever you get to fuck him, so he’s nothing short of a miracle anyway.
Your bites turn back to the kisses they’re supposed to be as you hold Harvey tight, as his hands glide happily over yours. Your chest is pressed into his back, and there’s something about the way you can feel him throbbing in that pretty thong that drives you wild. You want to kiss down his back, you want to leave bite marks between his thighs. You want to keep him with you always, just like this.
It barely takes you minutes. It’s humiliating, but you cum anyway. All you can do while the bliss burns through your system is shudder against Harvey’s body, zoning in on his cooing voice. “Wow, you did great, buddy. You must have needed that.”
You plop back onto the bed, not expecting to lose such a hefty load. The slick you left between Harvey’s thighs are dripping down his legs, staining that cute thong. He’s clearly excited when he turns back to you, a heat in his blue eyes that you’ve missed so desperately. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He smiles, climbing onto the bed with you. When he kisses your neck, his lips feel like cotton. He’s rubbing circles into your chest - it’s so cute how caring he is.
He stays like that with you for a while, little kisses, his lovely voice keeping you from falling asleep then and there. If he’s this affectionate with the person who pays to fuck him, you can’t imagine how he is with his wife. It almost makes you wonder if all this sweetness could turn sickly after a while.
Although, you’ve had him so many times now, some of your sessions have lasted hours… yet you’ve never gotten bored of him. Never been put off. How could you, with someone so lovely? Maybe you do have a sweet tooth.
“I know you’ve got more than that in you…” He whispers so sweetly, and the confidence is causing blood to pool back to your crotch already. “Do you want me to get ready? I know you like watching me.”
The box under your bed is where you keep your goodies. It’s an easy shift to grab it, the wood thin and polished and the overall size like a shoebox. There are plenty of toys that fit in it, however. Quite a few that perhaps Harvey isn’t ready for, but there’s one in particular you reckon he’d enjoy.
As far as anal beads go, these ones are quite small, weighing in (or measuring in, rather) at around the same size as a cherry - they’re the same colour, too. Dark red, leaning towards a pinkish tone when the light hits them right. Harvey blinks in surprise at the sight of them. “Oh hey, you got… one of those?” He doesn’t seem apprehensive; instead, he presses a hand to his cheek to conceal the pinkness flushing through them. He does give a nervous smile when you hold the toy out to him, though. “Heh, let’s uh, let’s see how this goes.”
It’s a shame to see the cute thong go, but there’s something about the way Harvey so delicately slips it down his legs, the way it dangles for just a moment around his ankle before dropping to the floor, that you're certain you’ll remember it until the day you die. You reckon you can get away with asking if you can keep them.
“Let’s not go crazy, okay?” He half-jokes, watching you slick the toy with more lube. He shifts back once he has the toy, and shuts one eye as he pushes the first bead into his body. There’s a slight grimace to his expression - perhaps you should have started him off with a different toy, or just your fingers. But he sticks to it, getting himself used to the feeling of the first bead, the shape definitely a new sensation that can take a bit of getting used to. You stroke his thighs, trying to offer comfort, and when he smiles at you, it feels like drowning in cotton.
He works the toy deeper into him, one more bead than the last, familiarising himself with the sensation. It’s magic, watching each bead spread open his pretty hole before suddenly disappearing inside him. He’s doing so well.
You lean forward and kiss his cheek, smiling with the way he turns to meet your lips with his own. The warmth of his kiss gives you the confidence to place your hand over his, to help Harvey get a better angle. There’s something tender in the way his tongue swims between your lips, that you can’t help but unclench your jaw and let him explore. You can practically taste the way he moans when you take more control of the toy, your experience with both it and pretty men using it giving you an advantage.
“This is…” He pants softly, eyes fluttering closed, “this is the first time I’ve had anything in me for a while… since we last…”
Doesn’t he do anything like this without you? You know he’s been with his family recently, but still. His wife doesn’t fuck him, doesn’t own a strap? Your poor, sweet, neglected man. There’s a hot stir in your gut when you think more about it; his hole isn’t used by anyone else. He doesn’t even let others have him like this unless it’s you.
He only wants you to fuck him.
You bite down on his tongue and stuff the toy inside him, earning you a whorish moan. He grips your wrist, his other hand flicking through locks of your hair like a busier man might flick through business cards. The counter gives a sweet series of ticks as you really begin opening Harvey up, and you decide that working overtime isn’t too bad if it means you can spend more on him.
It doesn’t even occur to you that he might just be winding you up, but he’s usually so genuine. It doesn’t make sense for him to be so bold. He can be a bit of a tease, but to say something so slutty…
Even if it isn’t true, it excites you. There’s no denying that. You release his tongue just in time to pick up the pace. He lasts longer than you expected him to, but you’ve come to know the telltale signs of his edge drawing near. The way his legs shake, his bruised tongue licking his lips. Though now he’s more toned, you’re able to see his stomach clenching more obviously. You stare, choosing to commit the way the light reflects off his dewy skin to memory.
“H-hey, I can’t…” He warns, before shaking his head and gazing up at you with a wobbly smirk. “I mean, keep going, you’re on a roll. You call the shots, remember?”
That’s exactly what you like to hear. Before the counter can even reach four digits, Harvey is reaching the height of his crescendo. You watch with delight as his head tilts back and creamy white shoots from the pink head of his cock, which had remained untouched all this time.
You hold Harvey tight, so happy with him. There are still streaks of your own lust marking his thighs, now refreshed by the sight of his own cum spread in ropes across his chest. You remove the toy gently, always careful around even small strings of anal beads. For one blindingly attractive moment, Harvey’s hole is still wide open, like it’s offering itself to you. Your mouth waters, and your hand finds its way between his legs. His hole closes up on its own, naturally inclined to clench, but you know that won’t be for long.
He’s more pliant than you expect, so soon after his orgasm - hopefully one of many you intend to bestow upon his body. Even as you rub your thumb over the circumference of his rim, the skin is soft, welcoming. It’s no surprise how easy it is to slide two of your digits inside him, his hole worked open as it is. You watch, hypnotised, as your fingers vanish in Harvey like an erotic magic trick, his walls malleable. The sharp breath he draws in, the tension of the sheets he grips in his hands, it’s all for you. It’s all because of you.
Harvey lets you; he’s so willing for you, so curious. It never feels like an intrusion. And although you can see twitches running over his thighs, the way they fall open can’t be seen as anything other than a plea for more. The soft sounds you get out of him are like poetry, and he looks damn near cherubic as he lays back against your pillows. The glow of his climax has left him dazed. He’d probably let you do anything in these moments. If only you could save this memory in more than your head.
Perhaps Harvey would let you. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind.
You reach over, catching Harvey’s attention - what little of it he has left - and you grab your personal phone, leaving your work mobile in the nightstand drawer (decisively switched off). You gesture with it, showing him when you open the camera app. He blinks in surprise, a little more aware now. “You want photos? Should I charge extra?”
The counter makes a noticeable ding, another zero adding to the end of the number. Harvey laughs, flabbergasted. “If you’re really that eager…” He bites his bottom lip, before hooking his hand under one of his knees to hitch his leg higher. “Just don’t take any of my face, okay?”
You agree with a nod, feeling like a child being handed a pocketful of change and left in your favourite arcade. Your camera is immediately put to focus between his legs. The lens on your phone is impressive, even though it’s an old make; it even picks up the dewy sheen on his skin. The lighting is perfect, too, making his body appear illuminated from the inside. Your beautiful man.
If he doesn’t want any photos showing his face, he likely won’t want any videos either - his voice is recognizable, at least to you. So you stick with a few pictures, turning on the sound of your camera so he’s aware of it. You’d rather not catch him off-guard, it’s not fun if he’s uncomfortable. It’s so much better to tease him, play with him, spoil him, make him feel good all over.
His toes scrunch up suddenly as your fingers brush against a particular place inside him, sparking your interest. And the way he whimpers in surprise is enough for you to discard the phone, to rub your fingers slowly into that sweet spot that makes Harvey squirm.
“H-hey, go easy, it’s…” He pants, doing nothing to try and stop you. If anything, his body feels more open, his hips press downward into your hand. It’s such an erotic display you can’t stand it. So you push your fingers as deep as they will go and you zone in on his prostate, stimulating him with rhythmic, circular strokes. “...Delicate.” He barely wheezes, before giving in and laying all the way back. You lean over him best as you can, kissing his chest, his shoulders, watching in delight as they turn that pretty shade of pink you’ve come to adore. You listen to his long, laboured breaths as though they’re the last prayers of an angel, and you worship.
His neck, his jawline, across his cheeks. Lips, tongue. You kiss. You lick. You bite. All the while rubbing that sacred spot inside him until his arms are locked around you and his eyes are an unfocused haze of desire.
You allow yourself the temporary joy of pinching his nipple, feeling it between your thumb and forefinger, feeling his heart drumming away under all that delightful flesh. And your hand drifts down, trailing over his stomach, until you’re gripping his cock and subjecting him to an endless stream of slow drags with your fist.
It doesn’t take long for him to cum in your hand, barely a few pumps. Perhaps you went too quickly; the last thing you want to do is ruin the pleasure. But you couldn’t help it. You’ve missed him, this beautiful body, that voice, all of him. You still your fingers inside him, using your free (cum-slicked) hand to wrap around Harvey, anchor him while he catches his breath.
“We’ve…” He breathes after a while, gazing up at you, “we’ve not even gotten to the main event yet.”
Well, seeing as he’s so eager…
You help Harvey onto his knees, a position you’re surprised to realise you haven’t tried yet. You’re usually too obsessed with being able to see that pretty face that the idea has never even occured to you. This time, though, you want to try something new. If it’s not a popular position, it’s no problem to switch to something else.
He arches his back when he stretches, catlike, the movement unmistakably playful, as he presses his head into your pillow. “Your bed is so comfy…”
The anal beads are within reach. You scoop them back up, the cherry-ish beads still glistening from earlier. You smirk to yourself, gripping Harvey’s hip with one hand as you press the beads back inside him. It’s the way he gasps that makes you chuckle under your breath. “Th-that’s not your…” He pants, holding onto your pillow as if that would save him.
Harvey gives such a pretty whine when you slip the entire toy inside him, his wet hole stretching perfectly around each bead, and his hips try ever so hard to follow when you pull the toy out until only the first bead still lingers inside him. His complaints fall flat, sounding outright bratty now. “I’m not just some toy for you to play with!” He pouts, and yet makes no attempt to stop you. You didn’t realise how badly he’s been wanting you to fuck him properly; the thought sends a hot pulse through your cock. You wonder if he’ll thank you when you’re finally inside him. But then, a much more fun thought occurs to you - you wonder how loudly you can get him to beg for it.
If he’s going to sound like a brat, after all…
You hold Harvey steady and begin to move the toy in and out, in and out. You have to grip him tight to stop him moving too much. It must really be torturous for him; the thought ignites a massive grin across your face. “This - ah - this isn’t - ngh, come on this isn’t funny anymore!” He moans, pathetic and desperate already. Oh, it’s so cute. He’s more stubborn than before, but you soon put that to the test when you speed up with the anal beads. You’re careful not to pull them out too quickly, you don’t want to actually hurt him, but you’re more than happy to be a little rough when you stuff him with the beads until only the handle is sticking out of his used hole.
It’s quite funny how he’s been screwed so much already and you haven’t even had your cock in him yet. What’s more amusing is the pang of envy that wells in your stomach; it feels like poison, but you also recognize just how stupid it is to be jealous of the toy you’re using on Harvey. You’re fully capable of chucking the anal beads to the side and just fucking your lovely, pretty man into the bed until your sheets are permanently stained with his candyfloss scent.
But you’re better than that. You want to see this through to the end. You want to make him feel so, so good. You take up your phone again, snapping pictures at this new, exciting angle. You’ve almost forgotten how tiny his waist is - or perhaps it’s his hips, his thighs spread open as they are, that makes his waist look small by comparison. Either way, he looks so damn fuckable in these photos it’s not even funny. There are hundreds - thousands - of people online who’d pay good money just for the pictures alone, and yet here you are, fucking him with a toy until he’s moaning, whimpering, begging -
He’s begging already.
“I - I can’t handle it, please,” He’s sucking in sharp breaths, “please, f-fuck - !”
You want him to tell you what he wants, exactly. You want that adorable voice to confirm his lewd desires. You press the beads in at a new angle that has Harvey crying out, back arching, toes curling. You press it right there again, and again, and again. He can’t even reach down to touch himself, both his arms occupied with holding himself up. And you can tell his cock is desperate for attention; the tip, glossy from so much pleasure, has turned a deeper shade of pink than before. There’s an upward bend to it you’d not noticed as consciously before, but, well. Both of your hands are occupied. One for fucking Harvey, the other for holding him down so he can’t escape. He’ll just have to use his voice to tell you what he wants.
“Please,” he whimpers in a way that goes directly to your cock, his voice going high with the strain, “touch me, fuck me. I need - please, fuck me…!”
There it is.
You ease the toy out, tossing it for good, before snapping a photo of the state you’ve left between Harvey’s legs. A mixture of lube and slick has left streaks down his inner thighs, his balls are so tense, and his cock is so stiff it’s twitching, dangling between his legs like an obscene prayer.
You cast a glaze of lube over your length, although you’ve worked Harvey so open you half-doubt you’ll need the extra wetness. Better than trying to shove yourself in only to find out the hard way that you’re too dry, you suppose. You take a breath, rubbing your tip against his entrance, before easing yourself in. You’re obviously thicker than the beads, so even with all the fun you’ve had with Harvey, even with how good it feels, you’re careful to not break him. The feeling is incredible, though - a cage of heat around your cock, dripping, amorous.
You don’t begin to move yet, you simply press inside so he can get used to being so full. It’s that cock you want to work on first. You lean forward until your chest is pressed into his back, until you’re able to kiss the back of his neck where his hair ends. The touch gives him a full-body shiver, and he naturally squeezes your cock until you’re seeing stars. It would be so easy to give in right there and then, let yourself cum inside him and spend the rest of the evening completely spent. But the thought of leaving Harvey high and dry fills you with such a deep sense of shame you can’t even allow yourself to thrust.
So you do as you planned to; your hand trails down his side, to the front of his hip, until his cock is in your hand. You almost pity him when you begin stroking his length; his hips press back into your cock so shamelessly, as if begging wasn’t enough. But you’ll give him what he wants soon enough. You start stroking him with one hand, and with your other, you fondle his balls. They’re firm, in such need of attention. Stroking, massaging, stroking, massaging, all with your hardness buried deep inside him.
He presses his head into the pillow this time when he cums, muffling his cries. His cock is hot in your hand as white pours out of it, and you wring him for every ounce of pleasure that he’s worth until he’s panting into the linen.
You don’t give Harvey much recovery time this round; he wanted your cock, so he’s getting it. You grip his elbows to dominate his position and begin pumping your hips into him. The angle you press him into gives such a delicious drag on your cock that it renders you senseless. You’re fucking him just as he wanted you to, and the sounds he’s making are only proof of how good it must feel. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve gotten him off now, but you know it’s close to a record for you both.
“F-feels good…!” Harvey groans, just barely lifting his head off the pillow to turn it to the side. You can see a wetness around his eyes, causing his mascara to smear. His entire face is pink, his lips glossy from saliva - he’s so beautiful.
You lean over, kissing his shoulders, that little space at the back of his neck that seems to tickle so much, and start picking up the pace until you’re thrusting into him. He’s getting louder, mouth permanently open as the pleasure rolls through his form. You can’t blame him; this feels amazing, especially after so long. Hot velvet surrounds your length with every thrust, clenching around you like he doesn’t ever want you to stop. He’s so wet down there from all the fun you’ve had that there’s barely any resistance. You help him sit up slightly so he doesn’t get suffocated by the pillow, but you’re keen to keep his waist in your grip. The scent of the room is heady, enough to send your head spinning.
Harvey’s crying out again - your cock is hitting his sweet spot with every thrust now, and all the abuse from earlier must have left it overstimulated. But it sounds like he’s in heaven, like every press into that dark heat is bliss. It certainly is for you.
“Ah - hah - please, like that, it’s - !” His voice is barely held together now, high and broken and practically slurring as he rambles. “Good - so - fuck, please, it’s good~!”
You bite down on your bottom lip until you can feel your canine breaching the dry skin; you’re so close, but you need him to get there first. You want Harvey to reach ecstasy before you, he deserves it. He deserves everything you can give him. The counter is already at the five-digit mark, and every moment is worth it. Heat begins to pool in your gut, leaving you mindless and euphoric.
There is nothing else but this moment. This beautiful, wonderful man under you, his body tight and wet around your cock, his voice the only thing anchoring you to this reality. You wish you could see his face, the angle only just showing you the outline. He must look like an angel right now. He always looks so pretty when you screw him, from the way his mouth hangs open to how thoroughly knitted his brows go. Next time you get him on his knees, you’ll have to do it in front of a mirror.
“I - I can feel it - everywhere,” Harvey moans, tilting his head back. He sounds like he’s ascended to cloud nine, warm and pretty, “my whole body - so good, fuck…”
Your hand grabs, almost clumsily, between his legs to rub his cock in time with your erratic thrusts. You’re so close now, the heat, the smell of sex, the amazing feeling of Harvey taking your cock so well -
He sobs when he cums this time, absolutely wrecked. His entire body shivers as a heatwave of lust rolls through him; you know the telltale signs of a full-body orgasm. You have to keep him held up so you can carry on thrusting, and in due time you’re there too, spilling deep inside him until it spurts out. The sensation of his orgasm is too much to fight against, and your own climax has your every nerve-end burning with bliss.
His breaths sound like weeping now, his entire body trembling. It’s a while before either of you can regain any semblance of composure, before your cock finally starts to soften.
“Ah… ahh… n-no more,” he whispers, panting, “please, I can’t…”
You’re slow, gentle, as you ease yourself out of him. The sight that greets you could have sent you over the edge a second time if you weren’t so spent. His hole is stretched open far wider than the toy could ever hope to accomplish. And what’s prettier is the lazy ooze of cum dripping out of him. Smeared across his rim and clinging to his thighs, even slicked across his balls. God, you didn’t realise you came so much. You fumble clumsily for your phone, snapping one last photo before finally deciding to give it a rest.
“I can’t take it,” he begs again, a pitiful whine leaving his lips. He sounds delirious. You didn’t push him too far, did you?
You wrap your arms around Harvey, closing his legs so he knows it’s all over. Streaks of mascara have run down his cheeks, his chin is wet with drool, and you hold him close. You kiss his cheek so tenderly, whispering whatever assurances come to your addled mind. Little compliments, sweet nothings, as much praise as you can manage. He seemed so eager, but he’s still not as experienced in this as you are. You should have known better. As slow as your mind is right now, worry is still quicker than any other thought.
But he opens his eyes slowly, his expression a dreamy daze, and he glances up at you.
It’s not much, but Harvey smiles. It’s ever-so-slight, but he’s there. You didn’t push him too far.
The relief almost feels as good as your last orgasm.
You run a bath, sit in the tub with him. The water is hot, a purple tinge to it from the oils and salts you used. It’s supposed to soothe. You rub circles into his chest as he lays with you, somewhere between awake and asleep, but definitely content. You stay like this for a while, letting him rest before you begin to clean him.
He rambles a little bit as he comes back to himself, apologizing for the stains he left on your sheets, the tired shock and gratitude over how much money you spent, the suggestion to maybe wear a condom next time. He’s far more quiet than usual, though; he’s exhausted. He takes your suggestion to stay the night with you.
You sleep in the spare room, too tired to change the sheets of your actual bed. He looks good in your shirt, your boxers. It’s your comfiest top as well - your favourite band shirt from when you saw them live years ago, the logo worn with years of life. It drapes charmingly on his frame. His hair has completely lost its iconic spiral; instead, it flops vaguely towards the left, still a bit damp from the bath, a rose bush of loose and tangled curls.
Weariness sends you laying beside him in bed, listening to his little half-thoughts as he drifts off. Even in his exhaustion, he can still chatter away. You wouldn’t mind falling asleep to that, though. Especially when, as if driven by instinct, Harvey nuzzles into your side and flops his arm over you. Your heart pounds. That scent you’ll always remember envelops you; cotton, candyfloss, the worn leather of old books.
There’s quiet after that, as he finally drifts away into a dream you wish you were privy to. And you, content and warm, fade into the quiet dark of a dream you won’t remember in the morning.
That’s enough, you think.