If he tried to retrace the steps to figure out how they got here, he's not sure he'd know how. This was them though. They never followed someone else's set rules or expectations, even when they tried. Why should their love be any different?
Michael had spent countless nights, years out here looking at the stars, searching the skies for a sign of where he belonged, a sign he was loved and wanted somewhere, a sign of home. So it's only fitting that the only witness to this sacred act between them tonight is those same stars. For the first time in his life, he doesn't have his eyes cast upwards, looking for answers in the cosmos, instead he's looking down at the man that is his home. Michael belongs wherever Max is and he would never search or want for anything again. He would never wonder if he was loved or wanted. They showed each other that every day in so many ways, they wore the proof of their love and possession in these scars on their skin. How could either of them ever doubt this?
He watches as Max takes him into his mouth with a smear of crimson. It's so forceful, the sight of his lover covered in his blood, swallowing his cock, devouring him, is something primal that he can't help but thrust his hips, rocking deep into the tight heat of his throat, a strangled moan falling from his lips. It's divine fucking ecstasy.
They know Max can work miracles with his hands but god, can he work them with his mouth too. He's gone, so completely wrecked all he can do is wrap his fingers in Max's hand, gripping hard and holding him there as he bucks his hips until he's practically choking. He digs the fingers of his other hand into the bleeding wound he made in his lover's flesh, coating his fingers in fresh blood so he can bring them to his lips to taste.
His orgasm hits him suddenly and he cries out at the sheer and abrupt force of his release, fingers tightening in those soft strands as he spills down Max's throat, holding him there until every drop is gone before releasing. Words fail him so he pulls Max back up into a searing kiss with trembling hands.
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Michael had spent countless nights, years out here looking at the stars, searching the skies for a sign of where he belonged, a sign he was loved and wanted somewhere, a sign of home. So it's only fitting that the only witness to this sacred act between them tonight is those same stars. For the first time in his life, he doesn't have his eyes cast upwards, looking for answers in the cosmos, instead he's looking down at the man that is his home. Michael belongs wherever Max is and he would never search or want for anything again. He would never wonder if he was loved or wanted. They showed each other that every day in so many ways, they wore the proof of their love and possession in these scars on their skin. How could either of them ever doubt this?
He watches as Max takes him into his mouth with a smear of crimson. It's so forceful, the sight of his lover covered in his blood, swallowing his cock, devouring him, is something primal that he can't help but thrust his hips, rocking deep into the tight heat of his throat, a strangled moan falling from his lips. It's divine fucking ecstasy.
They know Max can work miracles with his hands but god, can he work them with his mouth too. He's gone, so completely wrecked all he can do is wrap his fingers in Max's hand, gripping hard and holding him there as he bucks his hips until he's practically choking. He digs the fingers of his other hand into the bleeding wound he made in his lover's flesh, coating his fingers in fresh blood so he can bring them to his lips to taste.
His orgasm hits him suddenly and he cries out at the sheer and abrupt force of his release, fingers tightening in those soft strands as he spills down Max's throat, holding him there until every drop is gone before releasing. Words fail him so he pulls Max back up into a searing kiss with trembling hands.