(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

Anonymous asked
Benwash, and Washington's first time bottoming. He's completely overstimulated and overwhelmed, but 100% doesn't want Ben to stop.

Ben had had many, many reservations about the situation.

What if he was half the top that he was bottom? What if he couldn’t express, with his body, the things that George did to him? What if George realized that he was, in fact, an inadequate kid and this was the beginning of the end, and George would find someone that more closely matched everything strong about him in Ben’s eyes?

He had to admit, although he would do so much later, that these concerns (like many of the anxieties that he wore like a charm bracelet), had been for naught.

It did not appear, for example, that George thought him underwhelming. Not with the way George’s mouth hung open, slack, his breath coming in sharp little pants, as if he had to consciously tell himself to take every breath. Not with the sweat that had broken out across his forehead, a steady drop or two rolling down the side of his head.

Or that George isn’t getting how it feels to be filled, to be taken like this, to be had, to be penetrated - with the way his eyes try to open and flutter shut, with the way every part of him is tense and flexed, powerful muscles defining, with the way his fists are clenched and almost tearing holes in his sheets.

Ben shifts his hips a little and George bites out a gasp. Jesus, he could never imagine George being so fucking tight, with all his strength, for his experience, for – for everything. He couldn’t have imagined in a heartbeat that George had never done this before. He pushes on George’s taught thigh, just to change the angle, and one of George’s arms comes up and covers his eyes, and George moans a long, low moan that Ben has never heard heard before, and, more importantly, really needs more of. He rolls his hips, just a tiny little thrust, and George flexes impossibly tigher around him.

“If it’s too much, we can stop….” he says, teasing his fingers George’s thigh, feeling the muscle there strung tight.

“Oh no,” George breathes, and with effort he pulls his own arm from his face and reaches, fingers visibly shaking, for Ben. Ben takes his hand and George squeezes, hard. “We are not going to stop. You are not going to stop. You are really, really not going to stop.”