( 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.
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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.