by ♤♡¿Cross?♡♤

Without light, David relies on his hands to tell him where to go, along with Fred’s sharp breaths and the hands on his shoulders, struggling like he can’t decide whether to push David away or pull him closer. He tugs Fred’s zipper, loud in the building silence, and works his slacks and boxers down, just enough to get Fred’s cock out. Genuinely, David wishes he could see it, because it feels amazing, blood-warm and thick in his hand, wet at the tip where he leaked through his boxers.

David touches him, gently at first, pressing open-mouthed kisses up the length of his cock. Fred lets out a breath and fists David’s Henley, his hands shaking. “It’s alright,” he soothes and pushes Fred’s thighs open. Fred rests his heel atop the back of David’s thigh. “C’mon. You said something about boundaries.”

Fred opens his mouth to speak, but moans instead, a high-pitched whine that thrills David. Licking across his slit, David pushes back the foreskin and takes Fred into his mouth, reveling in the softness of his skin; precome floods his senses, and David groans, wrapping a hand around his length. Years ago, he would make a show of it and might take Fred to the back of his throat, depending on how much alcohol he had in his system. Approaching the ripe old age of forty, David doesn’t even try, solely focusing his efforts on hollowing his cheeks and stroking what he can’t fit in his mouth. Fred’s size doesn’t help matters. David wonders how he walks around with it, based on how he stretches his lips.

Idly, Fred strokes through David’s hair, tugging whenever David pulls off to kiss the head, laying the flat of his tongue over his slit. “I want you,” Fred breathes, a lip between his teeth. “I want you to remember that, when you’re with them. Just—I hate watching you.”

“Knowing it’s not you?” David asks, and Fred nods. Leaning up, David kisses him with precome on his tongue; Fred moans and drags him closer, spurred on by David leisurely stroking him, keeping him interested. “Swear we’re gonna figure this out,” he whispers before sinking back into Fred’s lap and swallowing him again.

“There—has to be something,” Fred says. Head thrown back, he alternates between pulling David’s hair and raking his nails along his scalp, both sending shivers down David’s spine. If only he could get it up again; they have time, as long as Fred doesn’t intend this to be a one-time deal. “We haven’t checked the spell books. We’ve only taken Rowena’s—word on it—David.”

David looks up at him and winks, lecherous as ever. Fred doesn’t say much after that, too busy trying to breathe while David takes him further. He struggles to relax his jaw, but after a while, he gives up and concentrates on the head, licking underneath Fred’s foreskin and teasing each and every vein with his tongue. Fred surges up and clings to David’s shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer. His hips twitch, and David chases him, still managing to keep a distance; as much as he loves swallowing, being choked isn’t on his mind tonight, and Fred would probably shove David onto his cock if it weren’t for his restraint.

Fred doesn’t last much longer, not with David slipping his hand further into Fred’s slacks to fondle his balls. He barely manages to give David any warning before he grabs the back of David’s head and holds him still, hips twitching while he spills warmth onto David’s tongue and down his chin, a seemingly endless pulse that leaves David wondering if this is how he dies, by drowning in angel come. Long after the wave crashes and Fred finishes, he holds David there, twitching and writhing while David cleans up the last of his come with his tongue. Just because he can—just because Fred likes it.

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