[ That little bit of praise goes a long way and helps him find just enough energy to keep upright. He rests his head on top of his arms, panting as he counts. It's hard to focus, each thrust feels like it lasts forever and goes deeper than the one before it. Lloyd gets to three before he loses count and all sense of reality. He only exists, pleasure hitting him in waves that feels a bit like drowning in it.
It's like an itch he's never been able to scratch being sated. Flagg's voice in his head is overwhelming, even though all that comes out is that growl that makes him shiver and his heart speed up. It scares him, but there's nowhere he'd rather be in this moment. Not that he could go anywhere.
Everything is too much and not enough, his nerves feeling raw and overused.
Lloyd tries to pick up counting again, but he's so lost in where he left off, all that comes out is a tormented whine. Flagg makes him feel impossibly full, like he's going to explode taking anything more, but he's selfish and will take until there's nothing else to give and be grateful for it.
Given that final release, Lloyd's cry of ecstasy turns into a sob of relief, tears sliding down his face from exhaustion. He doesn't think he'll be able to get hard for days with how wrung-out he feels. Even his dick had given a lackluster performance at the end, jerking through the motions. Every bit of him is trembling, right down to his bones, and his head still feels muddled, not quite coming down from the pleasure just yet. Too exhausted to try. ]
Don’t worry, hon, I’ll carry you. [ He slides his cock all the way out and scoops Lloyd up in his arms, effortlessly. Then he carried him back to the comfort of the penthouse bed, nice and soft everywhere to take the strain off of his knees.
He kisses Lloyd on the forehead before crawling in beside him, sliding under the blankets so smoothly he may as well be some bedside phantom. ]
You did good, Lloyd. [ Was Lloyd awake and aware enough to hear his praise? Who knows. But he was good, and he managed to hold out until Flagg was done, which was worthy of some reward. ]
[ He shudders, letting out a whine of discomfort as Flagg pulls out of him, and he can feel cum dripping down his thighs. He doesn't really have it in him to care about that. Lloyd doesn't do anything to ensure he doesn't fall, trusting that he won't. Not that he'd be aware if he did tumble to the ground. He wouldn't be able to get up anyway.
His head hits Flagg's solid shoulder and he sinks into that warmth. He smells like sweat and sex. That's about the last thing that flits through his mind before he just can't anymore. Whether it was sleep or simply unconsciousness, he slips into it without much warning. If he'd have been able to last just a bit longer, he'd have reveled in the extra bit of attention and praise.
He wakes up briefly, on the edge of too-warm, but unwilling (or more like unable) to move, so he doesn't. He just goes back to sleep. The next time he opens his eyes, everything is sore and he shoves his face petulantly into the pillow. ...or maybe it's a chest. How is he to know? ]
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It's like an itch he's never been able to scratch being sated. Flagg's voice in his head is overwhelming, even though all that comes out is that growl that makes him shiver and his heart speed up. It scares him, but there's nowhere he'd rather be in this moment. Not that he could go anywhere.
Everything is too much and not enough, his nerves feeling raw and overused.
Lloyd tries to pick up counting again, but he's so lost in where he left off, all that comes out is a tormented whine. Flagg makes him feel impossibly full, like he's going to explode taking anything more, but he's selfish and will take until there's nothing else to give and be grateful for it.
Given that final release, Lloyd's cry of ecstasy turns into a sob of relief, tears sliding down his face from exhaustion. He doesn't think he'll be able to get hard for days with how wrung-out he feels. Even his dick had given a lackluster performance at the end, jerking through the motions. Every bit of him is trembling, right down to his bones, and his head still feels muddled, not quite coming down from the pleasure just yet. Too exhausted to try. ]
no subject
He kisses Lloyd on the forehead before crawling in beside him, sliding under the blankets so smoothly he may as well be some bedside phantom. ]
You did good, Lloyd. [ Was Lloyd awake and aware enough to hear his praise? Who knows. But he was good, and he managed to hold out until Flagg was done, which was worthy of some reward. ]
no subject
His head hits Flagg's solid shoulder and he sinks into that warmth. He smells like sweat and sex. That's about the last thing that flits through his mind before he just can't anymore. Whether it was sleep or simply unconsciousness, he slips into it without much warning. If he'd have been able to last just a bit longer, he'd have reveled in the extra bit of attention and praise.
He wakes up briefly, on the edge of too-warm, but unwilling (or more like unable) to move, so he doesn't. He just goes back to sleep. The next time he opens his eyes, everything is sore and he shoves his face petulantly into the pillow. ...or maybe it's a chest. How is he to know? ]