Мне написали Джона/Скотта!!!!
Я так счастлива!!! Малюсенький дреббл!
читать дальшеJohn is a big man. When he’s holding Scott down, pinning his wrists above his head as he fucks into him, slow and deep, it’s one of the things Scott loves most about him. When he has to haul his dead weight across town and manhandle him into bed, not so much.
They’re quiet people, not very fond of going out and getting plastered, but when John cuts loose, like everything else, he does it properly. He passed out as soon as Scott got them into the cab and spent the whole ride over drooling on Scott’s shoulder.
Somehow Scott manages to lead John to their bed without tripping over the dogs or the shoes John kicked off in the foyer. He tries to keep him upright by building a mountain of pillows for John to lean against, but when Scott gets back to their room with a glass of water and two painkillers, John is laying flat on his back, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
“John, baby, you need to wake up. Drink this for me, yeah?”
John harrumphs, but he sits up and dutifully takes the pills and drinks all the water. He stays upright long enough for Scott to get his shoes off, but that’s about it. Scott tucks him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he moves away, but John doesn’t let him get far. Much quicker than he’s supposed to be able to move, he grabs hold of Scott’s arm and drags him in under the blankets with him. He’s still wearing all his clothes, he needs to go to the bathroom, John’s breath is sour and hot against his face and his arm heavy across his chest, but to Scott? That’s what love is all about.