[L might not be prey, but there are ways he doesn't particularly mind being taken hold of. Narrow-boned and slight as he is, his place in couplings with other men is more typically a submissive one. He doesn't view it as emasculating; it would be worse to fail at screwing someone else, like someone diminutive attempting to reach a shelf too high with no stool. Hopping up and down, ineffectual, reaching without success for a goal that is obvious to all.
Alex might be being kind, by letting him be on top, permitting him this attempt at earnest lovemaking. It could be a generous token to let him actually try when no late night in any dark bar would have ever led to an encounter like this one. It's an intense exercise in trust, as well, because the road to coming feels like a tense walk atop a tightrope, at times, in constant battle with his paranoia and self-doubt.
Terrible distractions, all things considered, when he's hugged so tightly and wreathed in a space that feels made for this purpose. It urges and prompts movement, and his mouth returns to her neck to kiss at the gills there as he establishes a brisk rhythm that only falters at first. Both of his hands grasp her hips, now, creating a mental and physical boundary to pulse toward.
He's probably sterile. Even so, the notion of spilling over inside of her tight confines is exciting, makes him throb so hard in anticipation that he is careful to rein back his pace. Is it because a part of him relishes the risk? Some loosely-defined and latent desire to procreate? Or does he just want to leave his mark on someone Mello feels jealous over?
He drives a bit faster, a bit harder, fingertips grasping at Alex's hipbones, teeth grazing her neck. He wants to leave the kind of small, sucking bruise that would incite questions; he does not, recognizing that it would hardly be fair to his benevolent partner. He's a thief in the night; he need not be a brazen one.]
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Alex might be being kind, by letting him be on top, permitting him this attempt at earnest lovemaking. It could be a generous token to let him actually try when no late night in any dark bar would have ever led to an encounter like this one. It's an intense exercise in trust, as well, because the road to coming feels like a tense walk atop a tightrope, at times, in constant battle with his paranoia and self-doubt.
Terrible distractions, all things considered, when he's hugged so tightly and wreathed in a space that feels made for this purpose. It urges and prompts movement, and his mouth returns to her neck to kiss at the gills there as he establishes a brisk rhythm that only falters at first. Both of his hands grasp her hips, now, creating a mental and physical boundary to pulse toward.
He's probably sterile. Even so, the notion of spilling over inside of her tight confines is exciting, makes him throb so hard in anticipation that he is careful to rein back his pace. Is it because a part of him relishes the risk? Some loosely-defined and latent desire to procreate? Or does he just want to leave his mark on someone Mello feels jealous over?
He drives a bit faster, a bit harder, fingertips grasping at Alex's hipbones, teeth grazing her neck. He wants to leave the kind of small, sucking bruise that would incite questions; he does not, recognizing that it would hardly be fair to his benevolent partner. He's a thief in the night; he need not be a brazen one.]