[Ten minutes go by with nary a response from Wade (mostly due to the fact that Nate's messages caught him when he was in the middle of a crossfire and he absolutely got shot a few times reading over them again) before finally there's a ping from Nate's phone.]
did u seriously just spend all this time thinking about swallowing my dick
[He pretty much said he did, Wade. Why is that so hard to understand?]
JUST your fingers at first like finding that spot you always find and making me beg for it
when you start f ucking into me so goddamn slow and it feels so perfect when you start going hard and leave those handprints on my hips w hen you come inside me and pull out and i can FEEL it
[...Wade's pretty goddamn sure he's got a mission to do right now, but even with the bullets flying over his head he can't help but be distracted. It's pretty much the hottest message he's received in quite a long time, and he feels some definite stirrings in the area below his belt buckle that have absolutely nothing to do with adrenaline and bloodlust.]
didnt realize i was shacking up w/ james joyce there bro
[Wade feels his heart do a flip inside his chest as he reads this most recent text. Nate never made it a secret how much he liked being with Wade, but as always with any kind of positive reinforcement, the heaviness of his own self-loathing was always quick to discount that.
Seeing it right here in text form somehow made it more tangible; more real, in a way that the voices in his head had a hard time disputing.
His momentary lapse in repose causes his grammar to briefly become impeccable.]
And you'll have me once I'm finished here, I promise. Just wait a little longer, babe. I'll be yours again soon enough.
[ Nate might make some sort of observation about how Wade isn't substituting letters or numbers for entire words, but he isn't entirely sober at present and therefore sprawls further on the sofa, blowing a petulant raspberry.
aw youre cute gotta make sure i look nice for my boyfriend
[ It's not a word he uses often but he probably should, because it delights him to type out with the minor assistance of auto-correct. It is, however, with a beleaguered groan that Nate drags himself from the sofa and to the bathroom, shedding articles of clothing as he goes.
The water is cold. Searingly so, biting into his skin - with a small yelp - and more effective than a mug of strong coffee. Where the anticipation previously ate at him it dulls out as he slowly ups the temperature until he's clear-headed, temple pressed against the tile and thinking about what he wrote. What he wrote. ]
Fuck me.
[ Nate mumbles as he cuts the stream, stepping out and toweling himself dry. He slings it around his waist before revisiting his texts again with an embarrassed groan. ]
no subject
no subject
at least my last thoughts will be of my dick down ur throat ;D
no subject
no subject
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just got worse
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[1/2]
Jesus fucking Christ.]
[2/2]
did u seriously just spend all this time thinking about swallowing my dick
[He pretty much said he did, Wade. Why is that so hard to understand?]
1/2
no subject
no subject
Okay so maybe it's not really dread he's feeling right now.]
u gonna get descriptive about that 2 or are u just gonna leave that 1 up 2 my imagination
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like
finding that spot you always find and making me beg for it
when you start f ucking into me so goddamn slow and it feels so perfect
when you start going hard and leave those handprints on my hips
w hen you come inside me and pull out and i can FEEL it
no subject
didnt realize i was shacking up w/ james joyce there bro
actually scratch that
joyce would have more references 2 poop
is this what u do all day when im not home
just think of poetry related 2 fucking me
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you asked me to get descriptive
and i just want you
i always want you
no subject
Seeing it right here in text form somehow made it more tangible; more real, in a way that the voices in his head had a hard time disputing.
His momentary lapse in repose causes his grammar to briefly become impeccable.]
And you'll have me once I'm finished here, I promise. Just wait a little longer, babe. I'll be yours again soon enough.
1/2
He's never been patient, but he can wait. ]
i know i know
knock em dead
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[1/2]
dont worry
im gonna wreck their asses
[2/2]
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i should probably sober up huh
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go take a shower and pretty up
not that thats gonna require a lot of effort on ur part ;p
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gotta make sure i look nice for my boyfriend
[ It's not a word he uses often but he probably should, because it delights him to type out with the minor assistance of auto-correct. It is, however, with a beleaguered groan that Nate drags himself from the sofa and to the bathroom, shedding articles of clothing as he goes.
The water is cold. Searingly so, biting into his skin - with a small yelp - and more effective than a mug of strong coffee. Where the anticipation previously ate at him it dulls out as he slowly ups the temperature until he's clear-headed, temple pressed against the tile and thinking about what he wrote. What he wrote. ]
Fuck me.
[ Nate mumbles as he cuts the stream, stepping out and toweling himself dry. He slings it around his waist before revisiting his texts again with an embarrassed groan. ]
Fuck me.