Jack Vincent (
rockabillyboy) wrote2016-07-06 07:27 pm
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Usually, Jack Vincent is an early riser. He gets up and he runs or he does yoga. He usually makes breakfast and brings Poison coffee in bed. They had a late night, though, so he's still sleeping when his alarm goes off. He reaches out, hitting snooze and turns over, burrowing his face into Poison's chest.
"Nope. Not yet," he murmurs.
"Nope. Not yet," he murmurs.
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Blood floods into Jack's face, at the thought of it, at how good the thought of that objectification makes him feel. He shifts, arching his back slightly, pressing tits together. It shifts the clamps on his nipples, makes his breath hitch between clenched teeth. He presses his thighs together, holding the vibrator in place, trying to be good.
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He knows Jack still has the vibrator in him and he loves the way it makes him squirm.
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"All for you. Anything you want, baby. You know that."
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"Fuck--" His eyebrows draw together and his mouth falls open. It doesn't really take him long, not with Jack looking - feeling - so fucking perfect. He pulls back so he can stroke himself off, so he can come across Jack's perfect fucking tits.
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"Fuck, baby."
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"You need a shower, baby."
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"Yeah," he says, nodding. "I do."
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"Are you going to watch me try them on?" he asks, grinning a little.
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"I didn't know it was going to happen as quick as it did," he says.
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Jack swallows, leaning up into the kiss, the gentle touch against his cheek. He nods.
"I'll be good."
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"Boxers," he says. "Let's play the game." He gets up off the bed. "I'm going to shower."
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"If you get in the shower with me, we're never going to get out of the house," points out Jack, padding naked into the bathroom and turning on the shower. "Can you sort me out some clothes? Yours are going to fit better than mine."
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He picks clothes that he's pretty sure will fit Jack.
"You could just wear your own clothes and look a little butch," he points out when Jack reappears.
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