It had been usually on the nights he'd come home from work in the late hours that he'd touch himself. He was always exhausted, desperately eager for sleep before needing to wake early for school the next month, but on rare nights that something ignited in him, he'd go in for a late shower, dampening himself before shutting the water off as to not raise the bill too high. Hands slick from the soap, he'd think of Blue. An impossibility almost that they'd ever get to such a point when she wouldn't even kiss him, but he liked her, so it was nice to think of her.
Except whenever he'd get closer and closer, blood rushing fast through him as his thoughts become beyond his control, it'd stop being Blue's soft hands he pictured stroking his length. Somehow, she'd turn into Gansey, slim and perfect and nude before him, helping him get there.
That was Adam's little secret. He couldn't come without the visual of Richard Gansey's face fluttering from his imagination.
Except it's far from an illusion now, hardly a dream. It's a hot palm and bright eyes peering up at him in the darkness. This is real. Gansey is touching him.
Adam wants control but he loses it, losing grasp of the whimper that escapes him. He tenses, unsure of whether to hold himself still or to buck. He wants it so much, to feel hands on him, to be touched, to be attended to in this way, but he's so afraid to show it. So afraid to give himself up like this, to Gansey of all people. Mostly because there isn't anyone he'd want to give it up to most. Not even Blue.]
Touch me. [He whispers with a breathy tone against Gansey's cheek.] Touch me as you. As no one else, just you.
[He means the real Gansey. Not the many facades and masks that the boy likes to put on depending on the company or the situation. The boy beneath all of that, the raw, naked Gansey.]
Show me. [Show me that I can mean something to someone. To you..]
no subject
It had been usually on the nights he'd come home from work in the late hours that he'd touch himself. He was always exhausted, desperately eager for sleep before needing to wake early for school the next month, but on rare nights that something ignited in him, he'd go in for a late shower, dampening himself before shutting the water off as to not raise the bill too high. Hands slick from the soap, he'd think of Blue. An impossibility almost that they'd ever get to such a point when she wouldn't even kiss him, but he liked her, so it was nice to think of her.
Except whenever he'd get closer and closer, blood rushing fast through him as his thoughts become beyond his control, it'd stop being Blue's soft hands he pictured stroking his length. Somehow, she'd turn into Gansey, slim and perfect and nude before him, helping him get there.
That was Adam's little secret. He couldn't come without the visual of Richard Gansey's face fluttering from his imagination.
Except it's far from an illusion now, hardly a dream. It's a hot palm and bright eyes peering up at him in the darkness. This is real. Gansey is touching him.
Adam wants control but he loses it, losing grasp of the whimper that escapes him. He tenses, unsure of whether to hold himself still or to buck. He wants it so much, to feel hands on him, to be touched, to be attended to in this way, but he's so afraid to show it. So afraid to give himself up like this, to Gansey of all people. Mostly because there isn't anyone he'd want to give it up to most. Not even Blue.]
Touch me. [He whispers with a breathy tone against Gansey's cheek.] Touch me as you. As no one else, just you.
[He means the real Gansey. Not the many facades and masks that the boy likes to put on depending on the company or the situation. The boy beneath all of that, the raw, naked Gansey.]
Show me. [Show me that I can mean something to someone. To you..]