A scene were Tommys has been having a rough day at work, and Chanse cares for him when they get back to Tommy's apartment.
Tommy offers his hole, even though Chanse knows Tommy's sore. They'd fucked like crazy the night prior. He awes him, his silly, big muscular, still wanting to give him everything despite already having given him all.
Tommy adds a snarky comment, quick witted and sarcastic as usual. Chanse ignores it.
Chanse straddles him, touches his skin, cards through his chest hair and traces the bites marks and thin lines from where his fingers scratched him. Tommy took so much, always wanting to give more.
Chanse felt the need, immense and deep to return it. Appreciate and praising him through his words, the touches.. wanting all the stress to melt off of Tommy's shoulders.
Tommy leans back and lets it happen, his resisting words becoming more sparse and far between.
But yet spreads his legs, an invitation open. Tommy's insatiable and will make it known. He's no pillow princess after all.
Chanse tells him later, and makes his way down Tommy's strong frame, feels his strong arms, broad chest, the narrowing of his waist. He's perfect, and Chanse tells him.
Tommy doesn't do well with compliments.
Chanse uses his mouth, sucking his cock, softly and delicately, a stark contrast to his often commanding lead. His voice soft like honey. Pops the head in and out, let's his tongue find the slit, steadily dripping. Tommy always leaks so much, it drives Chanse wild. He let's his mouth travel down, his balls, the insides of his thighs, lapping at the sensitive and swollen hole. His tongue makes it way in with little resistance, still a little give from the night before.
Tommy wriggles, his legs shaking. He's hesitant about the ass eating, but allows it anyway. Like he's decided to just surrender to the sensations, the praise - to Chanse.
Like he, even in this soft state of simply caring, no roughness, has a way to break Tommy apart and make him lose all sense of control.
Chapter 1: Aftermath and Soft Submission
The ache was a dull, persistent throb as Tommy shifted on the bedsheets. “It’s still sore,” he said, the words a quiet offering and a confession all at once.
Chanse’s gaze darkened, a possessive spark igniting in his hazel eyes. “I know.” His voice was gravel, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of Tommy’s inner thigh. “I can taste it on you.”
He moved, straddling Tommy’s hips, his weight a familiar anchor. The worn leather of his cap’s brim brushed Tommy’s forehead as Chanse leaned down, his mouth finding the juncture of Tommy’s neck and shoulder where a bruise was already blooming purple. “You give me everything,” he whispered, the vibration seeping into bone.
His tongue traced a path down Tommy’s sternum, a slow, deliberate torture. Every kiss was an apology and a promise, erasing the static of the day. When his mouth finally closed around Tommy’s cock, it wasn’t with hunger, but with a devastating reverence that made Tommy’s vision blur.
“Chanse—” His fingers tangled in brown curls, not to guide, but to hold on.
Chanse pulled away, his breath hot against Tommy’s stomach. “Let me take care of you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, his hands pushing Tommy’s thighs apart, his tongue laving a slow, wet circle over the tender, used muscle beneath. Tommy jerked, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat. The sensation was a sharp, bright wire of pleasure fraying the edges of the pain.
“That’s it,” Chanse murmured, the words a low hum against his skin. “Just feel it.”
The pressure built, a coil tightening in Tommy’s gut, his legs beginning to shake uncontrollably. Chanse’s tongue was relentless, a slick, intimate press that unspooled him completely. Tommy’s back arched off the mattress, a broken sound escaping him as he surrendered, falling apart under that unwavering, worshipful attention. Chanse held him through it, his hand a steadying grip on Tommy’s hip, until the last tremor subsided into a profound, weightless quiet.