Danse's forehead rests on Deacon's shoulder as this incredibly Deaconesque digression makes him gasp out a startled laugh with the little breath he has left, ghosting over the sweat-slick skin as his rhythm falls apart. The hands tightening in his hair drag a fervent moan from him, as they always do and always will, but he has just enough command left in him to protest--wants to demand, somewhere between teasing and deadly earnest, that Deacon tell anyone who asks exactly how he got that bruise and from whom.
He never gets the chance. That heartfelt request, with that endearment that always sets his every nerve aglow when Deacon is this free with it in bed, drives every other thought from his head but the yearning to obey it.
"I love you." His hands slip down to grasp Deacon's ass, dragging him in as closely as they can possibly be joined. "I love you, I love you..." He's still chanting it like a prayer as he spills himself inside Deacon, unable to hold himself back no matter how determined he'd been to make his lover come first, breaking down and trembling in Deacon's arms as if they're the safest refuge he knows.
Whether it's Danse's words or the hot spill of his pleasure deep inside of Deacon's body is unclear, but in the end it doesn't matter, because seconds later he's crying out in pleasure of his own, hips bucking frantically. His cock ruts against Danse's taut abs until it's painting them with come, leaving Deacon's voice cracking and body twitching, muscles tired and spent.
He takes a moment to take a deep, shaky breath, and then his hands tug again at Danse's hair to pull him into another kiss, this one lazy and a little messy, ending with more soft, sweet kisses that trail over Danse's scarred cheek to his ear.
"I love you, too," he whispers there like it's a secret, nuzzling against him and resting until he can catch his breath.
Danse wraps both arms around Deacon and holds him close and tight, still buried inside him, still dizzied and unsteady, reveling as if drunk in the claiming mark of Deacon's release on his skin.
The voice in his ear makes him shiver, squeezing Deacon tighter against him and absolutely loath to let him go. He scoots as far backward onto the bed as he can, as carefully as he can lest his cock slip free, and reclines with him as their feet dangle over the edge of the bed. The sheet is abandoned, too far away to reach, when Deacon's body is all the warmth he needs now even as their sweat cools.
Abandoned, but not entirely forgotten. He brushes the softest of kisses over each of Deacon's eyelids, grateful that he can reach them. "So," he murmurs. "We going to leave that mirror uncovered now?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He never gets the chance. That heartfelt request, with that endearment that always sets his every nerve aglow when Deacon is this free with it in bed, drives every other thought from his head but the yearning to obey it.
"I love you." His hands slip down to grasp Deacon's ass, dragging him in as closely as they can possibly be joined. "I love you, I love you..." He's still chanting it like a prayer as he spills himself inside Deacon, unable to hold himself back no matter how determined he'd been to make his lover come first, breaking down and trembling in Deacon's arms as if they're the safest refuge he knows.
no subject
He takes a moment to take a deep, shaky breath, and then his hands tug again at Danse's hair to pull him into another kiss, this one lazy and a little messy, ending with more soft, sweet kisses that trail over Danse's scarred cheek to his ear.
"I love you, too," he whispers there like it's a secret, nuzzling against him and resting until he can catch his breath.
no subject
The voice in his ear makes him shiver, squeezing Deacon tighter against him and absolutely loath to let him go. He scoots as far backward onto the bed as he can, as carefully as he can lest his cock slip free, and reclines with him as their feet dangle over the edge of the bed. The sheet is abandoned, too far away to reach, when Deacon's body is all the warmth he needs now even as their sweat cools.
Abandoned, but not entirely forgotten. He brushes the softest of kisses over each of Deacon's eyelids, grateful that he can reach them. "So," he murmurs. "We going to leave that mirror uncovered now?"