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No. 33963
He rolls his tongue, making you wonder how many times he’d done this, until his fingers pressed deeper inside you. The sounds he’s pulling from your throat prompt his own vocal response, his eyes closing as his relentless caresses put one of your hands in his hair.
You keep your other arm braced on the wall, breath shuddering louder now with his efforts doubled, no more self imposed muting, and no mercy predicted. Pulling back with a grin, he slides a third finger inside. The pit of your stomach clenches, his thumb working beneath your hood to keep stimulating the bud of nerves there. His zipper rattles, but he offers you little more than a hum against the skin of your thigh when your lips clatter out with his name on the tail of a gasp. Stealing a glance up, he strokes himself with the fingers that had been inside you just a moment ago. When you move to steady yourself, he laughs and tugs behind your knee, making you land on his folded legs. Lifting your hips, Guy murmurs into your ear, his tongue chasing the words.
“Gimmie a hand, huh?” When you finally manage to reach between the two of you, he smiles against your neck. Biting softly, quieting a moan against your skin with the slow press of his cockhead to your entrance and your fingers brushing the sides of his length, Guy leaned up and forward. The full crate against your back and he drove in to the hilt. Entrapping you in his arms, he didn't hesitate, already drawing back to press you against the cheap alien timber. Your shirt scrunched up against your collar bone, he thumbed your nipple, closing his eyes with the even, shallow thrusts. Guy stifles your gasps with his mouth, your fingers digging into his back when he reels back for a harder thrust. The cry that he jerks from you makes him grin, but he hushes you softly, his hand sealing over mouth. He bites your ear, savoring your hand in his hair and the muffled whimper he feels more than hears. Guy starts whispering into your ear, encouraging you to touch yourself as he starts railing you into the box. Lifting you by your ass to change the angle, you bury your face in his neck to keep from crying out. His fingers are still slightly damp and tacky from fingeri
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