[ Even without the physical stimulus, Caleb would have spilled just from watching Fjord come. He's so wonderfully expressive, from his face to his voice to the unrestrained, throbbing pulse of Fjord's dick against his and the shuddering of his solid body under Caleb's.
It's that and the heat and the very considerate way his hand keeps moving that gets Caleb off. A string of staccato whimpers is rung out of him with his orgasm. He'd be painting Fjord's cock with it if they weren't in the water, and that thought wrings an extra pulse from him.
Rather than heavy he feels raw afterward, split open and bared, like an exposed nerve. He has to pull out of Fjord's hand with a sharp gasp, but at the same time has to press as close as he can get to him everywhere else, taking comfort in the slide of warm, wet skin and still shaky limbs, an echo of his own. A hand splays over the back of Fjord's neck, keeping his face tucked against him as he buries his own in the wet strands of Fjord's hair and just breathes, deep and shuddering. ]
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It's that and the heat and the very considerate way his hand keeps moving that gets Caleb off. A string of staccato whimpers is rung out of him with his orgasm. He'd be painting Fjord's cock with it if they weren't in the water, and that thought wrings an extra pulse from him.
Rather than heavy he feels raw afterward, split open and bared, like an exposed nerve. He has to pull out of Fjord's hand with a sharp gasp, but at the same time has to press as close as he can get to him everywhere else, taking comfort in the slide of warm, wet skin and still shaky limbs, an echo of his own. A hand splays over the back of Fjord's neck, keeping his face tucked against him as he buries his own in the wet strands of Fjord's hair and just breathes, deep and shuddering. ]