Page 82 of Garbage

“Evan…” Quincy’s voice stuttered, his body giving a little uncontrolled jerk.

Evan recognized those signs now. Quincy was close to coming. Somehow, those sharp, robotic moments were what made him most human.

Quincy was letting himself go, the pleasure overtaking rational thought.

“That’s right, Quincy. Come for me.”

Quincy shuddered and shook again, first his hands freezing and jerking back to life, then his claw arms stilling and skittering, only to resume their teasing path.

“God, baby,” Evan breathed. “Just like that.”

Quincy’s eyes closed, his mouth gaping open. He stroked his hoses faster, his motions falling raggedly apart and then resuming. An inarticulate moan rose from his mouth, and then everything locked tight.

He was frozen in a display of ecstasy, wild and debauched, splayed open for Evan’s eyes.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, but it was a vision that Evan would always remember.

His boyfriend was fucking hot.

Quincy’s eyes finally blinked open, his limbs jerking in little patterns that might have been test sequences. “Hi,” Quincy said softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Evan replied, feeling dopey and impossibly in love. Not that they’d said those words yet, but they were kind of implied, right?

Okay, so actually he was dying to hear Quincy say those words. But he wasn’t sure if Quincy even understood what they meant. Quincy said he loved hot chocolate and unicorn socks, but that was a little different from loving Evan.

Quincy held his limbs open in invitation, and Evan clambered into his lap. There was nothing better in this world than all of Quincy’s hoses and arms squeezing him tight.

Although that lacy little slip of a thing on Quincy’s chest… He had to feel the silkiness with his cheek. To burrow under it with his hands. What would it feel like against his cock?

Quincy laughed, happily. “You like that?”

Uh, so maybe Evan was rubbing against him a little bit. And doing some groping. Definitely groping. He was just so horny… “I love it, baby.”

I love you, he thought. And I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name.

But Quincy had just come, so he probably needed a little break. Evan should slow down.

He tried to sit still and just cuddle, which is what he always wanted after an orgasm.

“What do you need, Evan?” Quincy asked, his voice was deep and booming, making the question almost a threat.

Evan whimpered. How did Quincy just do that Dom thing? It sent him into that giddy, needy submissive space right away. Was Quincy ready to play?

“Whatever you want, Sir?” he asked, hopefully.

Quincy was already peeling Evan’s arms back, holding them captive behind Evan’s back.

“Was that a question?” Quincy challenged him, his deep brown eyes burning.

Evan’s heart flitted and raced. “No, Sir. Whatever you want. Though, I should probably take a shower first if we’re going to…”

Quincy was already up and moving down the hallway. Evan could only hang on.

Then Quincy was undressing him. How that was even possible without setting him down, Evan didn’t understand. There were pincers and hoses everywhere, turning and molding his body wherever Quincy wanted it.

So. Fucking. Hot.

“Do you need a shower, cariad?” Quincy crooned, slipping the Welsh endearment in without a pause.