#flexhub

He should probably let him go. Despite the brief hit of friction, and everything else he could feel from just that one steady roll of hips against hips... He should pull back, let them reset and cool off. Lance knows what he should do, but it's not what he's going to do. Instead, he answers with another slow drag of his hips down against the clear line of his soulmates length, and his head tucking down. Pressing in to sweat damp fabric to breathe the other in.

A few hours had passed since he had woken up, not without giving his husband his due to attention, but making sure he was ready to leave the bedroom and him to his own things so he could focus on his task at hands. It had been several months of struggles and hiding expenses but it all ahd worked out perfectly.

he knew he was late, at least with the cake, but he was fairly aware that he had celebrated Jason's birthday plenty that day. Throughly, in fact. But with a kid at home and responsibilities of any adult and whitelighter around the world, Wyatt had barely had time to concoct a pleasant cake for the other. In the time that he knew Jason dedicated to go to the gym and do the things he didn't entirely approve, Wyatt managed to come up with a recipe from his mother, and a warm oven to receive the fruit of his labor... and hopefully come out tasting as good as the dough did before hand.

there was something primitive about enjoying mother nature as it was meant to be: with the hunting bears heard in the distance, the wolfs howling to play, the birds roaming the skies, the fishes swimming up the river, and the river eroding the rocks as it washed away whatever laid within.

Carlisle rested within the current, his hands diving in and spreading water over his head, his clothes resting assure within his home, up in the hill, from where he jumped down. And his body welcoming the refreshing feeling of pure water. no animal came close to his domain, so easy to stand it big and threatening for any challenger to approach. But that couldn't be said about humans that wanted to walk through the forest for a hunt, or wood.

Colin had watched his counter going down so slowly unlike all his friends and family. He had to wait for over 350 000 hours, which was roughly 40 years, before he could meet the man that was supposed to be his soulmate. Why so long? His little brother found his soulmate when he was nine years old, it felt really unfair to him. He was excited about meeting his soulmate though, even at almost 41.

This job was going to change everything, Colin knew it. He watched his wrist, less than 10 hours was left and he still had to sleep. Finding sleep was difficult, even though he used to just get on his bed and be out in a couple minutes. As he woke up, he kept looking at his wrist.

Maximo observed from the safety of the towel, eyes locked on Laurie's figure as surfboard and sea fought with him in the middle, so graciously navigating those waves that made him oh so jealous. But as the sea calmed down and Laurie approached him once more, with the board sunk on the sand and his attention never leaving him, the singer reached out from the holes of safely skin stuck shorts and pulled from his man down to his waist till fingertips could easily be seen through the waistband as the otherside.

"The fuck was that for you Prick?" The complaint and insult come quick and fast the minute Clint's fist connects with his uninjured soldier, jarring around to face the other and immediately regretting the twinge in his injured shoulder at the speed of the movement. Having to catch a breath, and school his features in to something resembling a scowl despite the fact Clint's right there, and it's annoying.

Because it's equal parts infatuation and infuriation and he hates that it's hard to seperate the two sometimes. "I did my job, if you must know. More than you've been doing recently." Of course, there's more to it than that. Something in just how ragged he looks, even for a shoot out. A tiredness he's desperately trying to hide in his scowl and the deflection.