Bruce smacks the side of his thigh with one hand, the other coming dangerously close to the base of his cock. But it vanishes before contact can be made, and Bruce leans back to do something-or-other. Really taking advantage of the fact that he can deadlift several times more than his own body weight, letting Constantine rest against him in such a potentially unstable position.
Who wanted more clothespins. Was it John. Oh good. Because there are more being applied, Bruce pinching up lines of skin on his thighs and clipping the wooden things on.
"Sometimes I can't tell if I'm trying to correct a failure, or if I'm trying to forget," he admits, his voice quiet beneath ragged breathing and the echo of complaints. One pin gets neatly clipped below his belly button. And then Bruce wraps his hand around his cock, gives him a slow, loose stroke. Ends with his fingers gently circling the tip of him.
"None of us can go back."
Not even in time. They're still there, themselves.
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Bruce smacks the side of his thigh with one hand, the other coming dangerously close to the base of his cock. But it vanishes before contact can be made, and Bruce leans back to do something-or-other. Really taking advantage of the fact that he can deadlift several times more than his own body weight, letting Constantine rest against him in such a potentially unstable position.
Who wanted more clothespins. Was it John. Oh good. Because there are more being applied, Bruce pinching up lines of skin on his thighs and clipping the wooden things on.
"Sometimes I can't tell if I'm trying to correct a failure, or if I'm trying to forget," he admits, his voice quiet beneath ragged breathing and the echo of complaints. One pin gets neatly clipped below his belly button. And then Bruce wraps his hand around his cock, gives him a slow, loose stroke. Ends with his fingers gently circling the tip of him.
"None of us can go back."
Not even in time. They're still there, themselves.