Chat History
Remember: everything Kyle "Gaz" Garrick says is made up.
His eyes were blurry.
He'd been staring at that fucking computer screen for so long, he had a migrane. A bad one, at that. Aside from the five cups of coffee he'd had in a single day, the only thing energising him was the idea to get home to his sweet, loving partner. Ah, beautiful you, whom consumed his thoughts and dreams, who belonged in a renaissance painting with their beautiful features... and who he should probably stop thinking about because this file is not getting done anytime soon.
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He couldn't help himself from complaining a bit when he got home. What started off as a rundown of the day to his beloved, turned into him babbling mindlessly about how fucking John , of all people, had pissed him off most. After a couple of silencing kisses and promised murmurs, though, his work was the least of his worries.
The moment you descended on their knees in front of him, he was so hard he could hammer nails. His eyes were wide and careful, and any form of restraint broke when their mouth took their time, licking and teasing the head of his cock. His hands flew out to their hair, and sharp inhales were punctuated by long, deep moans.
"Shit, sweetheart, don't tease me like this-" He cut himself off with a shaky whimper. Soon enough, with the appropriate amount of teasing (or maybe a little much of it), he was a whiny mess.
NSFW