Riddle's attempt at a warning seems to have the absolute opposite effect. Instead of pulling back or out or slowing down, Cater moans hard in response, his movement reaching a fever pitch. He holds Riddle so tightly, pulling their bodies flush together by the small of his back, and soon he's breathing too hard to properly kiss Riddle at all. Instead, he keeps their faces close, breathing against his skin as he whimpers a hurried, "--cumming!"
And then light flashes behind his eyes as he bursts, digging in as deep as he can go, legs tensing as his feet claw into the sheets. Cater moans over and over, practically wailing as his abdomen continues to rub against where Riddle's erection is sandwiched between them. The heat coming from there, the way that his inner walls grip him, it only intensifies the feeling. It feels like it lasts forever--but not long enough when his body finally loses that tension and he comes crashing down, heavy and breathing ragged.
How could Riddle hold back? As that hot fluid rushes into him, coating his insides, Riddle's own noises reach the same volume as Cater's, his nails digging in roughly at the pressure against his erection, against the feeling inside him. His own orgasm hits for a second time, coating the both of their abdomens in his cum, much to the embarrassment of the housewarden.
It was so much. He could feel hot tears roll down his cheeks, from the sheer intensity of the feelings. A whimper is easily followed by a sob -- he was overwhelmed by it all, by the heat between them, the heat of his fever, the heat of their passion, the heat inside of him. It was all so intense in a way he never thought possible.
His arms hold onto Cater as tightly as he can, as he shifts to bury his face against him.
As his orgasm finishes crashing through them both, Cater's head starts to clear. The first thing he registers is the sound of Riddle crying--whether it was from pleasure or not, he shifts his body so he can see properly, detangling Riddle from where he hid himself just enough to reach up and brush those tears away with his fingers. "That was amazing," he murmurs, and without thinking leans in even closer to brush his lips against those salt-covered cheeks, as well. He wants to kiss it all away, kiss Riddle's eyelids, his face, his lips.
Riddle sniffles softly, both from his cold and the crying, as Cater pulls them apart to check in on him. Panting heavily, Riddle stares up at him with those big, tear filled eyes, clearly exhausted. The tears start to dry up, the small kisses across his face drawing out a laugh from him. "It... really was." Riddle murmurs in response, a soft smile finally working its way across his face.
With a nod, he shifts, squirming to wrap his arms more comfortably around Cater. Not to hold him close out of desperation, out of need, but to keep his warmth close.
"... I'm going to have to clean my sheets tomorrow...." Riddle mutters out, his eyes slipping shut again.
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And then light flashes behind his eyes as he bursts, digging in as deep as he can go, legs tensing as his feet claw into the sheets. Cater moans over and over, practically wailing as his abdomen continues to rub against where Riddle's erection is sandwiched between them. The heat coming from there, the way that his inner walls grip him, it only intensifies the feeling. It feels like it lasts forever--but not long enough when his body finally loses that tension and he comes crashing down, heavy and breathing ragged.
no subject
It was so much. He could feel hot tears roll down his cheeks, from the sheer intensity of the feelings. A whimper is easily followed by a sob -- he was overwhelmed by it all, by the heat between them, the heat of his fever, the heat of their passion, the heat inside of him. It was all so intense in a way he never thought possible.
His arms hold onto Cater as tightly as he can, as he shifts to bury his face against him.
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"Rest, now. I'll stay right here."
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With a nod, he shifts, squirming to wrap his arms more comfortably around Cater. Not to hold him close out of desperation, out of need, but to keep his warmth close.
"... I'm going to have to clean my sheets tomorrow...." Riddle mutters out, his eyes slipping shut again.