dark-blue-mondays:
Harrison gives Syx his most exaggerated pout for a moment before lazily licking his side with just the very tippy tip of his tongue. “Sharing is caring,” he replies cheekily, careful to not let this tongue touch his companions.
But his eyes never leave Syx’s even as he removes a designer wallet from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a solid black AmEx, and still without looking, holds it up over his shoulder between two fingers.
“I’m sure they’re planning to bring us a wonderful after dinner drink, but I want you and me out on that dance floor before my pants burst,” Harrison announced. Was he referring to eating too much food or the plumping of his blue cock from his companion’s wandering leg? Both. Both was good.
It doesn’t take long before their waiter returns and Harrison hands him the card. “Give my compliments to the chef. It truly was delicious,” he says, still looking entirely at Syx as though he is the next thing to be eaten.
Syx swallowed, barely tasting the frozen treat on his tongue. That look was causing a heated flooded feeling to settle bellow his belly as he became acutely aware of his tentacle in it’s sheath. Why was he such an addict to these games? And partners that so willingly played them with him. Shifting in his seat, he attempted to surreptitiously rub his legs together as the hunger gaze locked on him.
❝Exceptional,❞ Syx echoed, finding it easier to keep his eyes on Harrison than acknowledge the waiter. As the man left, Syx fidgeted, fingers running over the fabric of his leather pants in order to keep them off Harrison, ❝Before the dance floor would ruin all the fun,❞ his grin turned wicked as his voice dropped an octave, ❝After we start dancing… Well lets just say, I’ve always taken the self inflicted destruction of my partner’s garments as a point of pride.❞
More so with Wayne who he couldn’t hope to leave a mark on. It had started early during the game, having it a point of victory to wreck that white suit. But later when they’d dated… Evil gods was it hot to watch that man destroy a pair of jeans with his erection. Not that anyone else could match that level of wardrobe ruination, but he’d take Anna’s soaked through panties or Harrison’s straining pants with absolutely evil glee.
RP backup 