Disclaimer: I do not know these men, I wish I did but I do not. They are both lovely. Aw.
Pairing: Can't say
Summary: Two of the boys are experimenting. Flexibility is a must.
AN: Cos I just thought this might be a nice change.
Feedback: Yes please, always appreciated: perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
I know he can't be comfortable in that position, no one could be. His poor head is wedged practically down between the frame and the seat cushion, angled so he can take in precious breaths of air. One of his arms is trapped beneath his body and not even anywhere near his cock, which might at least have afforded him some compensation for the inconvenience and the discomfort. I feel guilty.
Well, not much, really. I am much more concerned with keeping his feet from kicking my head. One big toe seems hell-bent on syringing my ear for me. I wonder briefly if the rush of blood to his brain might be colouring his perceptions, if perhaps being head down in the sofa is entirely a good thing (even if he can look for the remote for the DVD while he's down there). I feel guilty, again, and consider pulling out and letting him back up to a more comfortable, conventional, position... Trouble is that to do that would mean me pulling my legs down from their position braced against the wall and the leverage I have gained would all be lost.
But he's mewling pitifully now, his mouth an odd shape, sort of sucking on the fabric of the sofa, his tongue lolling... I should give up on this one. There are scores of positions we haven't tried yet. Yes, give it up. Stop thrusting, feet back down to earth, pull out, let him back up and then get him down on the carpet. Yep. It's a plan. I have to lean further over him to give my feet room to work their way down the wall and momentarily I am squashing him even more than before. A sound from the upholstery, vaguely profane, tells me he is not impressed by this, but it cannot be helped. My feet on the floor once more and I am sliding out, his legs are suddenly not anchored anymore and he is slipping down onto the sofa, his body joining his head. Oops.
I hurry round to straighten him out; he's all arms and legs and his face is definitely a strange tint and bearing the indentations of the creases in the fabric... I may have gone too far. Then he speaks.
"God, Lij," he gasps, and his eyes are burning bright and warm and brown. "That was incredible. Let's do that again!" Before I can stop him, he's lying across the coffee table, spreading his beautiful thighs. And as I position myself against his firm, ripe rump, I think, "Who am I to deny my Sean anything?" Now I know his position on this issue...
The End