[And here's the thing. Here is the thing. Sampo's nice, which isn't a thing Gepard ever thought he'd think about Sampo Koski, but somehow he landed on thinking he's nice. Not so much kind as he is pleasant. He's warm. He's addicting, in a way a man shouldn't be to him. Sampo's like...
Sampo's like the sun, to him. Illuminating but also deceptive. A stray beam of light might look warm, but it might just be false hope - you stepped outside to catch the sun and remembered how cold the planet really is. Misleading in general. Capable of false hope. BUt if you caught the sun in just the right way, there was nothing better; Sampo was like that.
...he should leave the poetry up to other people. He wasn't made for this sort of thing. He understands touch. He understands physical things. He understands being dragged in. Gepard's dragged in and he kisses Sampo, a little desperately, because if he makes a noise...
If he makes a noise and they're caught he doesn't know what he'll do. It's tempting to abuse his power. He shouldn't. Sampo's not good for him. Sampo makes him...want, and he shouldn't...want, but he does. He wants this. He wants Sampo. This is a problem.
But one for later. Right now he's getting what he wants, and he shoves in with a groan. Sampo calls it good.]
Good. [It's an echo, a bit of a rasp, need curling inside of him. He breathes, in, out, forcing himself to calm just enough, because he wants to be loud (Gepard can feel it, there's always been something about Sampo that cracked his veneer of professionalism to reveal the far messier insides) and he can't. Not here. Not now.
Now, Gepard runs a hand up Sampo's thigh, reverently. Reverent? Now? But sometimes it's just how you feel.]
You always feel incredible. [The lust will wear away soon enough, probably, but for now? For now? For now he catches Sampo's lips in a kiss, again, shifts his grip, and starts fucking him.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-03-23 08:50 pm (UTC)Sampo's like the sun, to him. Illuminating but also deceptive. A stray beam of light might look warm, but it might just be false hope - you stepped outside to catch the sun and remembered how cold the planet really is. Misleading in general. Capable of false hope. BUt if you caught the sun in just the right way, there was nothing better; Sampo was like that.
...he should leave the poetry up to other people. He wasn't made for this sort of thing. He understands touch. He understands physical things. He understands being dragged in. Gepard's dragged in and he kisses Sampo, a little desperately, because if he makes a noise...
If he makes a noise and they're caught he doesn't know what he'll do. It's tempting to abuse his power. He shouldn't. Sampo's not good for him. Sampo makes him...want, and he shouldn't...want, but he does. He wants this. He wants Sampo. This is a problem.
But one for later. Right now he's getting what he wants, and he shoves in with a groan. Sampo calls it good.]
Good. [It's an echo, a bit of a rasp, need curling inside of him. He breathes, in, out, forcing himself to calm just enough, because he wants to be loud (Gepard can feel it, there's always been something about Sampo that cracked his veneer of professionalism to reveal the far messier insides) and he can't. Not here. Not now.
Now, Gepard runs a hand up Sampo's thigh, reverently. Reverent? Now? But sometimes it's just how you feel.]
You always feel incredible. [The lust will wear away soon enough, probably, but for now? For now? For now he catches Sampo's lips in a kiss, again, shifts his grip, and starts fucking him.]