[ The echo is back but the temperature is edging higher by degrees.
He says he isn't jealous because it's the truth. It's more insult than envy, on the assumption of an inherent failing on Rafe's part. No, not failing — it's something worse, something that Rafe doesn't even have in him, some kind of baseline incompatibility that earns him a write-off. Sorry, best left to others more suited. A line he's heard over and over again and every time it's just more fuel toward showing people how wrong they are.
Whether Harry is aware or not, he's thrown down a gauntlet. Rafe's never been able to resist picking it up. ]
You think I can't. [ The bottle stays pressed into Harry's stomach another moment longer as he stares down every one of those bad intentions. Then he sets it aside for an even crueler grip at Harry's hip. ] Guess you really don't get tired of being wrong.
[ And with that he launches back into a kiss that's twice as ruthless as before, teeth clicking against Flynn's violently.
A part of him still warns against giving up control or a single inch of ground, unease gathering in his gut at the idea of just handing it over, but he's committed now and even more than that... Like hell he wants Flynn to think he's been proven right after all. ]
Edited (screwed up an apostrophe) 2017-12-16 08:29 (UTC)
Well, love, until you grow a really great pair of breasts, I don't-
[Rafe cuts him off very suddenly with a cruel, punishing kiss that lights a fire under his arse. Yes, excellent, now they're getting somewhere. Harry pushes back into him greedily, biting back just as fiercely. He tastes iron and moans, pulling away from the kiss just a moment to get his breath. Yeah, this is the Rafe he's been waiting for. Like he said, he doesn't like to play the submissive to his boss all the time, but fuck, it's still good sex.
Breath caught and head no no longer swimming, Harry tries to step away from the table but finds himself anchored by the hip, a hand digging into denim and flesh like a vice. Its a pleasant sort of pain, and he doesn't try to shake free for once. Instead, he leans back into Rafe, lips ghosting across his as he speaks.]
Oh, so it's going to be that kind of night then, is it? [Harry grins, curling his long fingers around Rafe's (expensive, designer) belt.] You're too easy, mate.
[ "Still good" isn't good enough. Not anymore. Whether Flynn meant to or not, he's staked out a new set of goal posts and Rafe means to score.
Heyooo. ]
You talk too much,
[ he snarls back against Harry's mouth. Bad enough to still have doubt niggling at the back of his mind, but if Flynn is going to be running his mouth as usual then Rafe will just have to shut him up. He crushes in for another bruiser of a kiss, and doesn't waste time on appraising Harry's clothes — just pries open his pants before reaching in and grabbing hold of his dick. ]
[No stop chatter is just how he operates, and even after so long Adler refuses to deal with it. He's not sure why—he loves the back and forth, loves filthy talk and banter and insults, and it's just another place where sometimes their preferences don't quite mesh. He's not complaining though, not when he's being tongue-fucked like the world is ending and they're gonna die tomorrow. ]
Mmpfh!
[Being found wanting has put the best, or worst, kind of fire right under Rafe, and with the way grabs his cock, Harry isn't sure which it is exactly. He pulls away from the kiss, but not the grip, and looks just the tiniest but uncomfortable.
[ Rafe is a fan of dirty talk too, and a fair employer of same. But when somebody literally talks nonstop, barely needing to stop for breath? Then it becomes an issue: a constant background hum that can drive a man to madness if it's not shut off once in a while — like a retail holiday playlist and every fucking day is December 10th.
Every once in a while, Harry could seriously benefit from not. ]
That's never been your preference before.
[ But contrary to Harry's oft-voiced complaints, Rafe can listen and he amends his grip accordingly. Still firm, still insistent, but the strokes are more squeeze and less vise now. Narrowing his eyes in a halfhearted glare, he huffs impatiently. ]
[With that little change in grip, Harry relaxes completely, and leans into Rafe's to chase the sensation. It's not going to get him to any kind of destination, but he supposes it doesn't need to. While Adler busiest himself, he let's his hands and lips wander wherever they may.
For as much shit as he gets about having horse teeth, Rafe doesn't mind it when Harry's teeth rake over that one spot behind his ear, or the one under his jaw. He doesn't so much mind the gentle burn is stubble against his lips, not when he can feel his boss twitching under him. Not in any sort of excessive way, of course, but all reactions from Rafe Adler are a win, the fucking ice queen.]
Just....[Pause to bite at his jaw. ]...redirect that jealousy to places...[And another to rake his teeth along the curve of his neck.]...that aren't my cock.
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chardismastic) wrote2016-08-08 05:33 pm
no subject
[ The echo is back but the temperature is edging higher by degrees.
He says he isn't jealous because it's the truth. It's more insult than envy, on the assumption of an inherent failing on Rafe's part. No, not failing — it's something worse, something that Rafe doesn't even have in him, some kind of baseline incompatibility that earns him a write-off. Sorry, best left to others more suited. A line he's heard over and over again and every time it's just more fuel toward showing people how wrong they are.
Whether Harry is aware or not, he's thrown down a gauntlet. Rafe's never been able to resist picking it up. ]
You think I can't. [ The bottle stays pressed into Harry's stomach another moment longer as he stares down every one of those bad intentions. Then he sets it aside for an even crueler grip at Harry's hip. ] Guess you really don't get tired of being wrong.
[ And with that he launches back into a kiss that's twice as ruthless as before, teeth clicking against Flynn's violently.
A part of him still warns against giving up control or a single inch of ground, unease gathering in his gut at the idea of just handing it over, but he's committed now and even more than that... Like hell he wants Flynn to think he's been proven right after all. ]
no subject
[Rafe cuts him off very suddenly with a cruel, punishing kiss that lights a fire under his arse. Yes, excellent, now they're getting somewhere. Harry pushes back into him greedily, biting back just as fiercely. He tastes iron and moans, pulling away from the kiss just a moment to get his breath. Yeah, this is the Rafe he's been waiting for. Like he said, he doesn't like to play the submissive to his boss all the time, but fuck, it's still good sex.
Breath caught and head no no longer swimming, Harry tries to step away from the table but finds himself anchored by the hip, a hand digging into denim and flesh like a vice. Its a pleasant sort of pain, and he doesn't try to shake free for once. Instead, he leans back into Rafe, lips ghosting across his as he speaks.]
Oh, so it's going to be that kind of night then, is it? [Harry grins, curling his long fingers around Rafe's (expensive, designer) belt.] You're too easy, mate.
no subject
Heyooo.]You talk too much,
[ he snarls back against Harry's mouth. Bad enough to still have doubt niggling at the back of his mind, but if Flynn is going to be running his mouth as usual then Rafe will just have to shut him up. He crushes in for another bruiser of a kiss, and doesn't waste time on appraising Harry's clothes — just pries open his pants before reaching in and grabbing hold of his dick. ]
no subject
Mmpfh!
[Being found wanting has put the best, or worst, kind of fire right under Rafe, and with the way grabs his cock, Harry isn't sure which it is exactly. He pulls away from the kiss, but not the grip, and looks just the tiniest but uncomfortable.
It's a cock, Rafe, not a golf club.g]
Gentle, gentle.
no subject
Every once in a while, Harry could seriously benefit from not. ]
That's never been your preference before.
[ But contrary to Harry's oft-voiced complaints, Rafe can listen and he amends his grip accordingly. Still firm, still insistent, but the strokes are more squeeze and less vise now. Narrowing his eyes in a halfhearted glare, he huffs impatiently. ]
Better?
no subject
[With that little change in grip, Harry relaxes completely, and leans into Rafe's to chase the sensation. It's not going to get him to any kind of destination, but he supposes it doesn't need to. While Adler busiest himself, he let's his hands and lips wander wherever they may.
For as much shit as he gets about having horse teeth, Rafe doesn't mind it when Harry's teeth rake over that one spot behind his ear, or the one under his jaw. He doesn't so much mind the gentle burn is stubble against his lips, not when he can feel his boss twitching under him. Not in any sort of excessive way, of course, but all reactions from Rafe Adler are a win, the fucking ice queen.]
Just....[Pause to bite at his jaw. ]...redirect that jealousy to places...[And another to rake his teeth along the curve of his neck.]...that aren't my cock.