[ what wash works towards above all else is overwhelming someone -- pushing them to the edge, as far as possible and then even further, until he has them babbling and incoherent and utterly unable to do anything but surrender to him and his control. eddie has never been particularly resistant to it, and while he does love seeing him in person, has learned how to play his body like a finely tuned instrument -- there's something that's always nice about this. a callback to how they met, but also just a deep gratification in knowing that even like this, just words on a screen, just his voice in his ear, even miles away and in the middle of an orgy, eddie will bend to him.
he can hear it. eddie comes almost on command, and it's good, and wash has to force himself to slow down a little just to make sure he doesn't go as quickly with him, though he does make sure to give him some encouragement as he can hear him riding it out, milking the cum from his cock; ]
That's it, baby. So good for me, Daddy's good boy. Just like that.
[ but of course eddie is bowling into more before long, before he's even really steadied himself, and -- god, that's sexy, too. hearing just how out of sorts eddie is, how he clearly has a hard time stringing full sentences together, but how the words are just tumbling from him because he wants to, needs to hear daddy come almost as much as he wanted to come, as his sentences just fragment into begging, whining, pleading, just fragmented descriptions of just what he wants daddy to do.
and it does work. wash does answer him, between his quiet groans, disjointed little murmurs of how he's gonna do just that -- and the clearest sign of how he lets go is in how much more aggressive the words become, disjointed as they are. little detached murmurs of how daddy's going to find him, use him, fuck him on his cock like his good little toy, take his fucked out hole and ruin it even more, make you want that, you'd want that, eddie, wouldn't you, want to feel it --
and then he tumbles over the edge himself. a low, rumbling moan, his hips lifting into his hand, head falling back against the chair he's seated in -- his device slipping slightly from his grip before he shifts to make sure it's nicely held by his shoulder as he rides it out, working over his cock. his breathing slowly steadies, stills. ]
no subject
he can hear it. eddie comes almost on command, and it's good, and wash has to force himself to slow down a little just to make sure he doesn't go as quickly with him, though he does make sure to give him some encouragement as he can hear him riding it out, milking the cum from his cock; ]
That's it, baby. So good for me, Daddy's good boy. Just like that.
[ but of course eddie is bowling into more before long, before he's even really steadied himself, and -- god, that's sexy, too. hearing just how out of sorts eddie is, how he clearly has a hard time stringing full sentences together, but how the words are just tumbling from him because he wants to, needs to hear daddy come almost as much as he wanted to come, as his sentences just fragment into begging, whining, pleading, just fragmented descriptions of just what he wants daddy to do.
and it does work. wash does answer him, between his quiet groans, disjointed little murmurs of how he's gonna do just that -- and the clearest sign of how he lets go is in how much more aggressive the words become, disjointed as they are. little detached murmurs of how daddy's going to find him, use him, fuck him on his cock like his good little toy, take his fucked out hole and ruin it even more, make you want that, you'd want that, eddie, wouldn't you, want to feel it --
and then he tumbles over the edge himself. a low, rumbling moan, his hips lifting into his hand, head falling back against the chair he's seated in -- his device slipping slightly from his grip before he shifts to make sure it's nicely held by his shoulder as he rides it out, working over his cock. his breathing slowly steadies, stills. ]
Good boy.
[ :') ]
Wish you were here to clean it all up?