But also could’ve sounded worse and she is actually brilliant: so good that he would be captivated even if they weren’t dating (or sort of dating, considering that they do no actual dating type things besides having wild and often inappropriate sex at every opportunity), even if they didn’t have so many years of friendship and so many months of more behind them. Every little arch of her hips makes his breath choke in his throat, every tiny twitch of her fingers makes his eyes flutter briefly shut, every moan that she gives makes him harder and harder to the point where he would almost consider begging for relief.
…Best not to mention that, since she’d only look remarkably fascinated and suggest that they try it.
But, at the moment, he is adoring enough to disregard even that bit of sensible advice – to just watch her, arching and glorious on the bed, and know that he’d probably do absolutely anything for her, probably throw himself into a thousand inappropriate and highly worrying situations just to get her love.
…Her-
Okay: soppy, sloppy and entirely inappropriate in a way that isn’t even puzzlingly fun. For Chris’ hips are arching faster and faster on the bed, and her fingers are twitching harder and harder, and she’s starting to mewl at the top of her lungs in a way that simultaneously manages to turn his legs into jelly and his cock into the hardest thing that has ever existed on the planet (although that makes it sound like a diamond - which is just worrying, really).
He finds himself stepping forwards, slowly and helplessly, reaching out a hand that really wants to meddle in certain affairs-
“Tim” …And immediately halts, obedient yet again.
Though, at that point, maybe it was less of a command and more of a cry - as Chris’ fingers finally dip and her thrusts speed up for a long moment before she slumps back into the bed with a sigh so blissful that it’d be entirely unsuitable for public consumption.
…Well, if it wasn’t Chris.
He takes another step towards the bed, cautious despite her blissed out state.
Another, when she doesn’t protest.
Another, so that his knees are bumping against the mattress and he’s almost close enough to reach out and slip his finger over one of those nipples…
And he has only a moment, a rather sudden moment, to reflect on how she cries his name even when he’s nowhere near before he’s dragged down onto the bed – air huffing out of his lungs and eyes blinking as she rolls them and braces her hands upon his chest.
Her eyes are wicked as they look down, “Your turn, Timmy.”
UNPROMPTED: A Thursday Sort of Thing, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/3]
…Best not to mention that, since she’d only look remarkably fascinated and suggest that they try it.
But, at the moment, he is adoring enough to disregard even that bit of sensible advice – to just watch her, arching and glorious on the bed, and know that he’d probably do absolutely anything for her, probably throw himself into a thousand inappropriate and highly worrying situations just to get her love.
…Her-
Okay: soppy, sloppy and entirely inappropriate in a way that isn’t even puzzlingly fun. For Chris’ hips are arching faster and faster on the bed, and her fingers are twitching harder and harder, and she’s starting to mewl at the top of her lungs in a way that simultaneously manages to turn his legs into jelly and his cock into the hardest thing that has ever existed on the planet (although that makes it sound like a diamond - which is just worrying, really).
He finds himself stepping forwards, slowly and helplessly, reaching out a hand that really wants to meddle in certain affairs-
“Tim” …And immediately halts, obedient yet again.
Though, at that point, maybe it was less of a command and more of a cry - as Chris’ fingers finally dip and her thrusts speed up for a long moment before she slumps back into the bed with a sigh so blissful that it’d be entirely unsuitable for public consumption.
…Well, if it wasn’t Chris.
He takes another step towards the bed, cautious despite her blissed out state.
Another, when she doesn’t protest.
Another, so that his knees are bumping against the mattress and he’s almost close enough to reach out and slip his finger over one of those nipples…
And he has only a moment, a rather sudden moment, to reflect on how she cries his name even when he’s nowhere near before he’s dragged down onto the bed – air huffing out of his lungs and eyes blinking as she rolls them and braces her hands upon his chest.
Her eyes are wicked as they look down, “Your turn, Timmy.”