Colin’s head dipped forward, eyelids drooped a little. He worked himself up quickly. Licked his mouth. Bit down softly on his lower lip and hummed Dexter’s name.
“Dexter…” His breaths became heavy. “Mmm…fuck, yes…”
Dexter’s mouth felt like sand, as he panted along with him, thrusting his hips along the back of the chair and good God he needed to touch himself.
“Colin? Please?”
Colin, eyes opening again, smirked, and used his free hand to rub over Dexter’s pants again. Dexter moaned. Loud.
“Oh, s**t…shit, Colin, m’gonna…mmm…not gonna last, f**k…Colin, m’gonna come…”
Colin just nodded, and Dexter knew by the way his face contorted that he wouldn’t be far behind him. So when he fell to pieces, moans and yells ripped from his throat, and a warm, sticky mess spread in his pants, it wasn’t
