[ he knows what that pause is. ash, wrestling with himself, trying to keep himself away from embry and his bullshit for the thousandth time when he knows nothing will change in the end. embry still won't give in, and ash will still believe it's because he doesn't love him the right amount to give him his hand in marriage, and they'll both leave this encounter worse than they came into it. but ash has something better waiting for him, and embry —
embry only has this. he dreams of these moments, craves them like a goddamn addict, laps them up like a stray that doesn't know when he'll be fed again. every time he talks to ash he's afraid this will be the time their friendship breaks and he'll be pushed out for good, and he'll only be able to blame himself for the endless cracks he's put in ash's heart. ]
don't you know what i'm doing better than anyone else?
[ in all the phases of his life since the age of twenty-one, whether he's been discreetly falling in love with ash across europe or fucking his way through the beltway elite, that's been true. there's only one giant part of himself he's kept hidden away, and it thankfully has nothing to do with sex. ]
i'm thinking about you in that lonely room and how many times you've jerked it thinking about greer already. because you're my best friend and i'm invested in your future. and your cock, just for right now.
( this, at least, is an old dance to ash — embry saying something either purposely or accidentally needling, garnering a reaction that usually ends up with him face down on the floor, kissing ash's feet. )
Why aren't you thinking about how many times I've jerked off to you? Or is that something else we're not talking about.
( it's seems a gigantic oversight. ash has always had a healthy sexual appetite that borders on compulsory, on obsessive, and at the same time he was fucking embry in the shower stalls at base camp, he was wringing the cum out of his dick to greer's innocent emails. he has room inside him for multitudes of people — it's the letting them go that he's never fully figured out. )
If I had to guess, I'd say you're grabbing your dick through your boxers, pretending like you might be able to stop jerking off to me whenever you feel like it. Like it doesn't count unless you take your dick out, like you're not fully committed to cumming all over yourself like a horny teenager because you think you might be able to withhold some dignity from me, since we're over text. I wish I could see you. Touch you. I don't think there's a room in this house I haven't thought about bending you over in and fucking you to tears.
[ why are you thinking about me? a question without thought, with no purpose but to bruise his own heart. he doesn't deserve any space in ash's mind after everything he's done. he deserves all the space in ash's mind precisely for everything he's done. neither option changes the reality of this, that he can't have the thing he wants most, which is some abstract concept of a life that might have been, once upon a time. some stupid fairy tale written by a dead author that he probably made fun of for no reason on a rainy day. ]
focus, colchester.
[ he's definitely stripping his dick out now, because it's humiliating that ash is right, that he's in bed fondling himself through his silky boxers for the aforementioned reasons. his anger gets him rock-hard, which is the dumbest shit ever, and yet. ]
i am jerking off to you. but not just to you. i'm thinking about you and greer. she is very pretty, you know. i was jealous all that time at base you used to fuck me half to death and still had the energy to jerk off to the thought of her afterwards. but now that i'm more detached, it's kinda hot. you must have years of fantasies built up about her. tell me.
( the perpetual problem: embry thinks he can top. the reality: ash can't occupy any role other than putting embry in his place. that's why they clash, and why embry is perfect — he fights ash every step of the way, and he always loses. )
I used to be really careful to keep the two of you separate in my mind. A respect thing, I think. Lately it seems impossible. I think about fucking her bare while you watch, and making you eat my cum out of her pussy. I think about fucking you hard enough your tongue rubs up against her clit on every thrust in. I think about fucking your mouth while Greer rides you. If I spill on your face, I bet she wouldn't wait to be told to lick it up. You could give me all night and I wouldn't run out of things I want to do to you, and her, and you and her together.
[ a joke, with a clip of the truth, serrated teeth digging into ash's flesh because he doesn't know any other way but to either surrender himself to ash's love or to hurt him. it says, if you respected me, you wouldn't have pulled out the goddamn ring. twice. ]
there are so many different ways i want to respond to your nasty shit right now.
[ first, by fucking into the fistful of silky lotion he's just squirted into his palm, whatever luxury shit the staff stocks in the room that parisa uses for her perfectly smooth legs and embry uses for his dick. second, by biting down the urge to lash out that he knows how greer's pussy tastes, and her tits, and her mouth, and exactly how it feels to be inside her. that he was the first person to ever be inside her, after ash spent their entire deployment stripping his dick raw to the thought of her.
god, sometimes he thinks all the secrets he's holding have gone rancid inside of him, turning into a slow-acting poison that's infected his brain. ]
what do you think she would think if she knew what you were doing right now? send me a picture.
( handling embry is a step by step process — you have to ignore the little jabs, the little hurts, because if you get caught up in the little things, you'll never see the big picture. you respect me? since when? obviously hurts, but it's not like ash can be surprised by it with anything more than the passing pain of bumping into a side table with the side of your foot. ash has known since he was a boy that no one would ever fully understand him — embry comes close, obviously, but that question proves he'll never be fully aware, never completely understand how obsessed ash is with him, how adored, how loved he is. respect was the second thing ash ever felt for him, following the large footsteps lust left behind.
regardless, it smarts. everything about embry does. ash gets lost in the daydreaming thought of punishing him, feeling guilt like a fist around his cock, stroking him, making him hate himself. )
I don't know, little prince. I like to think she'd be just as eager as I am. But I don't know.
( not fair to assume, either. really, it's not fair to do any of this when greer is who he's supposed to want, while embry is — what? interested as ever in the sexual side of things. ash has no doubt if he pressed embry for some kind of commitment they'd be back to cordial best friends, ignoring the painful elephant in every room they walk into. luckily: ash has no real sense for emotionally protecting himself and will, at every opportunity, spear his heart on the lance embry offers him.
funny he should be the one asking for a picture, when he's the one so focused on keeping their situation private. regardless, ash will always do anything embry asks of him, always give him whatever he wants and whatever he can. it's not an especially artistic picture, just his thick cock, hard through the shrugging sides of his pants that bow around his cumgutters, captured in the calloused grip of his palm. jerking off doesn't really do anything for ash, but the thinking does — imagining embry on the other side, getting off at the same time.
still, this is really his first nude sent. so. he feels pretty awkward about it. embry has probably received countless nudes in his life. )
I wish you were here so I could punish you. I don't know how she'd feel about that, either. Watching you fight and argue and ultimately lose, bending the knee to me. Mouthing at the laces of my boots. I'd let you rut your hard cock against them, if you were good. And when you came on the leather, I'd say you were my good little prince, my Patroclus, while you bent down to lick up your mess. Or maybe I'd have Greer on my other shoe, and let you lick up hers. You'd like that.
[ she would be. greer would like it, maybe even love it, because greer is the type of girl that made embry believe in love again in just eight hours of tears and laughter and filthy sex. well, maybe seeing the way ash stares at embry would bring up a couple of questions, but he's generally confident that her perfect pussy would be wet over this. it's not like embry would admit to years of romance between him and ash. he wouldn't even admit to five minutes of it.
it's true that embry has received countless nudes in his long history of promiscuity, but it isn't lost on him that this is his first from ash. he's never really needed them from him before, and their longest sexual drought was marked by — well, jenny. embry's not so much of an asshole that he'd blow up a married man's phone for dick pics, though he'd wanted to blow up a lot more in those years watching ash from afar and pretending every day wasn't the worst day of his life.
a huffy little curse slips his lips as he turns onto his side, suddenly wishing he did have ash's boot to rut against, staring at the picture with a ravenous hunger that just means he hasn't gotten laid in far too long. ash isn't an option and hawk isn't putting out. walking out into the fire doesn't seem like that bad of an idea right now. ]
if you had any sense, you'd send this to greer. she'd like it. what do you think she's doing right now locked up in her room just like we are? i'd bet anything it's exactly what we're doing.
[ there's silence for several long minutes, distracted between the photo and his own dick, and he finally hits the button to call ash, setting the phone down as his eyes flutter shut, thinking about greer's tender, freshly fucked cunt. ]
It makes me crazy to think of you fucking her. [ his hips grind against a stray pillow on his messy bed, hand tight around his cock, his voice drawn tight with tension. ] I don't know how to describe it. It's not in the way you think. I want — I want to know how you'd do it. How it'd make you feel. How it'd make — her feel.
How much do you think about her? As much as me? Tell me, and don't fucking lie to me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
embry only has this. he dreams of these moments, craves them like a goddamn addict, laps them up like a stray that doesn't know when he'll be fed again. every time he talks to ash he's afraid this will be the time their friendship breaks and he'll be pushed out for good, and he'll only be able to blame himself for the endless cracks he's put in ash's heart. ]
don't you know what i'm doing better than anyone else?
[ in all the phases of his life since the age of twenty-one, whether he's been discreetly falling in love with ash across europe or fucking his way through the beltway elite, that's been true. there's only one giant part of himself he's kept hidden away, and it thankfully has nothing to do with sex. ]
i'm thinking about you in that lonely room and how many times you've jerked it thinking about greer already. because you're my best friend and i'm invested in your future. and your cock, just for right now.
no subject
Why aren't you thinking about how many times I've jerked off to you?
Or is that something else we're not talking about.
( it's seems a gigantic oversight. ash has always had a healthy sexual appetite that borders on compulsory, on obsessive, and at the same time he was fucking embry in the shower stalls at base camp, he was wringing the cum out of his dick to greer's innocent emails. he has room inside him for multitudes of people — it's the letting them go that he's never fully figured out. )
If I had to guess, I'd say you're grabbing your dick through your boxers, pretending like you might be able to stop jerking off to me whenever you feel like it. Like it doesn't count unless you take your dick out, like you're not fully committed to cumming all over yourself like a horny teenager because you think you might be able to withhold some dignity from me, since we're over text.
I wish I could see you. Touch you. I don't think there's a room in this house I haven't thought about bending you over in and fucking you to tears.
no subject
focus, colchester.
[ he's definitely stripping his dick out now, because it's humiliating that ash is right, that he's in bed fondling himself through his silky boxers for the aforementioned reasons. his anger gets him rock-hard, which is the dumbest shit ever, and yet. ]
i am jerking off to you. but not just to you.
i'm thinking about you and greer. she is very pretty, you know.
i was jealous all that time at base you used to fuck me half to death and still had the energy to jerk off to the thought of her afterwards. but now that i'm more detached, it's kinda hot.
you must have years of fantasies built up about her. tell me.
no subject
Of course I do.
( the perpetual problem: embry thinks he can top. the reality: ash can't occupy any role other than putting embry in his place. that's why they clash, and why embry is perfect — he fights ash every step of the way, and he always loses. )
I used to be really careful to keep the two of you separate in my mind. A respect thing, I think. Lately it seems impossible.
I think about fucking her bare while you watch, and making you eat my cum out of her pussy. I think about fucking you hard enough your tongue rubs up against her clit on every thrust in.
I think about fucking your mouth while Greer rides you. If I spill on your face, I bet she wouldn't wait to be told to lick it up.
You could give me all night and I wouldn't run out of things I want to do to you, and her, and you and her together.
no subject
you respect me?
since when?
[ a joke, with a clip of the truth, serrated teeth digging into ash's flesh because he doesn't know any other way but to either surrender himself to ash's love or to hurt him. it says, if you respected me, you wouldn't have pulled out the goddamn ring. twice. ]
there are so many different ways i want to respond to your nasty shit right now.
[ first, by fucking into the fistful of silky lotion he's just squirted into his palm, whatever luxury shit the staff stocks in the room that parisa uses for her perfectly smooth legs and embry uses for his dick. second, by biting down the urge to lash out that he knows how greer's pussy tastes, and her tits, and her mouth, and exactly how it feels to be inside her. that he was the first person to ever be inside her, after ash spent their entire deployment stripping his dick raw to the thought of her.
god, sometimes he thinks all the secrets he's holding have gone rancid inside of him, turning into a slow-acting poison that's infected his brain. ]
what do you think she would think if she knew what you were doing right now?
send me a picture.
no subject
regardless, it smarts. everything about embry does. ash gets lost in the daydreaming thought of punishing him, feeling guilt like a fist around his cock, stroking him, making him hate himself. )
I don't know, little prince.
I like to think she'd be just as eager as I am. But I don't know.
( not fair to assume, either. really, it's not fair to do any of this when greer is who he's supposed to want, while embry is — what? interested as ever in the sexual side of things. ash has no doubt if he pressed embry for some kind of commitment they'd be back to cordial best friends, ignoring the painful elephant in every room they walk into. luckily: ash has no real sense for emotionally protecting himself and will, at every opportunity, spear his heart on the lance embry offers him.
funny he should be the one asking for a picture, when he's the one so focused on keeping their situation private. regardless, ash will always do anything embry asks of him, always give him whatever he wants and whatever he can. it's not an especially artistic picture, just his thick cock, hard through the shrugging sides of his pants that bow around his cumgutters, captured in the calloused grip of his palm. jerking off doesn't really do anything for ash, but the thinking does — imagining embry on the other side, getting off at the same time.
still, this is really his first nude sent. so. he feels pretty awkward about it. embry has probably received countless nudes in his life. )
I wish you were here so I could punish you. I don't know how she'd feel about that, either.
Watching you fight and argue and ultimately lose, bending the knee to me. Mouthing at the laces of my boots. I'd let you rut your hard cock against them, if you were good. And when you came on the leather, I'd say you were my good little prince, my Patroclus, while you bent down to lick up your mess.
Or maybe I'd have Greer on my other shoe, and let you lick up hers. You'd like that.
no subject
it's true that embry has received countless nudes in his long history of promiscuity, but it isn't lost on him that this is his first from ash. he's never really needed them from him before, and their longest sexual drought was marked by — well, jenny. embry's not so much of an asshole that he'd blow up a married man's phone for dick pics, though he'd wanted to blow up a lot more in those years watching ash from afar and pretending every day wasn't the worst day of his life.
a huffy little curse slips his lips as he turns onto his side, suddenly wishing he did have ash's boot to rut against, staring at the picture with a ravenous hunger that just means he hasn't gotten laid in far too long. ash isn't an option and hawk isn't putting out. walking out into the fire doesn't seem like that bad of an idea right now. ]
if you had any sense, you'd send this to greer. she'd like it.
what do you think she's doing right now locked up in her room just like we are? i'd bet anything it's exactly what we're doing.
[ there's silence for several long minutes, distracted between the photo and his own dick, and he finally hits the button to call ash, setting the phone down as his eyes flutter shut, thinking about greer's tender, freshly fucked cunt. ]
It makes me crazy to think of you fucking her. [ his hips grind against a stray pillow on his messy bed, hand tight around his cock, his voice drawn tight with tension. ] I don't know how to describe it. It's not in the way you think. I want — I want to know how you'd do it. How it'd make you feel. How it'd make — her feel.
How much do you think about her? As much as me? Tell me, and don't fucking lie to me.