Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Written for the porn battle on LJ/DW; prompt: Alex Summers/Armando Muñoz, overstimulation.
Warning: Contains explicit sex.
Alex's face always crumples a little when Armando does this, like he's folding in on himself from sensation, trying to hold everything in; he looks almost offended by how good it feels, furrow in his brow and white teeth sinking into his lower lip, and Armando can't stop himself from tracing that tight, red curve of mouth with his free hand.
His other hand is busy pushing fingers inside Alex and feeling him tighten around them, still slick from their last round when Armando came inside him; Alex makes a sound low in his throat, says shakily in token complaint, "Not all of us have the ability to just go, and go, and go, you know."
Armando stills his fingers, says calmly, "Want me to stop?", waits. Bites back a smile when Alex makes an involuntary sound of protest and rolls his hips down, looking for more.
Alex glares, says, "I didn't say that," and maybe some other time Armando would make him give more, but this time he's nice; thrusts his fingers back inside, curls them and nudges at Alex's prostate, watches Alex turn his face into his pillow to try and stifle his noises.
"Look at you," Armando says softly, can't take his eyes from the pink spill over Alex's cheeks, down his chest; the fluttering of his eyelashes when he squeezes his eyes shut; the sweet gape of his mouth as it parts around a gasp. Armando coaxes Alex's legs further open, curls a hand around Alex's thigh and strokes his thumb over the smooth skin there; the sound of his fingers driving into Alex again and again is slick and obscene, and it makes Alex bite his lip when he hears it.
Armando could touch him forever, and that means more for him than it might for others: he can fuck Alex for hours, until they're sweating and Alex is writhing under him and tearing the sheets and begging for nothing less than everything. He can come in Alex's mouth, and then fall on his back and let Alex drive into him with a needy, impatient jackhammering of his hips, a steady rhythm he can feel in his teeth, and then maybe he'll fuck Alex after that as well, to watch him fall apart.
And Alex might think it's too much, maybe, but he never says 'stop', threatens dire punishments if Armando ever considers it, and Armando can see how much Alex loves it—the jumping of his pulse in his throat and the rapid rise-fall of his chest; the hitching sounds of near-discomfort with "more, more, more," mixed in; the way he trembles a little when Armando runs a hand down his chest and over his stomach, a touch meant to both soothe and stoke. Alex is hot all over, wet-mouthed, melting in Armando's hands.
He's young; hard again. Armando smiles, gives him a third finger, and when Alex is distracted, he leans in and swallows Alex's cock all the way down. Choking's not a problem for him.
Alex shouts, kicks out, voice dissolving into a sob formed around Armando's name. When he comes, it's not much; Armando swallows it all and mouths at Alex's cock fully when he's done, just to be sure he got it all.
Alex looks dazed, but his eyes are narrowing as he regains his senses; Armando just grins at him, though, used to it by now. Alex is the only person Armando knows who always looks a little pissed off by a spectacular orgasm, like he thinks things shouldn't really feel that good.
Alex scowls, mouth wavering, before his expression breaks open into something a little softer. Armando kisses him carefully, until Alex turns it less careful, more teeth; Armando pulls away after a few minutes, and nudges his cock against Alex's hip.
"So, for those of us with the ability to go, and go, and go—" he begins, grinning, and thanks his reflexes for the warning when Alex lobs a pillow at his head.