#goldfaded

after their night on the roof, clayton felt a bit more relaxed around liam. some of his defenses were down, after explaining some of his background – but not all of them. when liam offered to train with him, clayton clammed up, even harder than he normally would’ve.

but, he still said yes.

getting liam to the ground was deceptively easy – that’s probably due to him not using his power, when clayton was never not using his own. but clayton was distracted by the way his knees framed liam’s waist, the way he’d pinned the other with an arm barring across his chest, feeling the rounds of muscle underneath the thin shirt.

the way that, if there were lays layers between them, liam would aimed almost perfectly to just push inside.

“–you okay?” he asks, only letting up on liam’s chest a little.

Yeap. Dust. Again. It wasn’t like Liam was a glutton for punishment—or maybe a part of him was trying to let the other put of that steam that Clay had warned of him before—but feeling the firm catch of the mat against his back and that pin against the breadth of his chest was almost a lull. A bitch. But a lull. It wasn’t like Liam signed up to use his powers after all—he just wanted to test his own prowess in combat at least. He needed to exceed his mentor’s expectation on that end after all come next session. But fighting a God of War isn’t as cool as the video games—especially not when you’re in the receiving end. Though, at least, with how the other just weighed onto him, heaving mass just round and curvy, just like the pair of pecs that had been trying to get out of his shirt ever since they began, there’s some little win that he at least managed to hum through his soft grunt. Not that the thrumming adrenaline was already making the whole thing all warm and fuzzy.

“I don’t know—feel numb…” Liam chuckled, rather breathlessly—and it wasn’t a tease. That with his hands moving up to grip at the soldier’s massive thighs, Liam just grunted a bit through his smirk, swiveling his hip to no avail—save for how his crotch practically nudged at the apex of the other’s thigh. “—f’r the r-ecord, ‘m tryin to stand—not dry humping…”

[txt]: how long do we leave it in, again?

[txt]: uhh until my hair feels like t’s burning [txt]: which was a few mins ago but i’m used to be being on fire so [txt]: but maybe come over and give it a look

SEND “#B” AND I’LL SHUFFLE MY MUSIC PLAYER, AND USE MY FAVORITE LINE FROM THE NEXT SONG AS A STARTER!

Dig Down by Muse @goldfaded

When hope and love has been lostAnd you fall to the ground

Julian grunted as pain shot through his body, he manged to pick himself up. He was out numbered, three-one. He bitterly stared at the villains who mocked him the attack was perfectly planned. He had called for back up and hoped it would get there sooner or later. With a deep breath Julian a whip covered in thick thorns. He need to catch his breath. 

You must find a wayWhen the darkness descends

As his whip crashed against the floor, cracking the concrete Julian tried to call for help again. At that point he would taken kind of help from any hero. The villains kept mocking and taunting him. That’s when he heard someone’s foot step. He glanced back hoping it was another hero. 

Even though they only just met, Ramón felt like he knew Clay for much longer. There was a common bond between them that wasn’t immediately apparent; a familiarity he couldn’t shake. When they finally got on the same page about what they shared, Ramón felt an even greater connection to the so-called “Golden Boy.” One he never experienced with anybody else.

It didn’t take long for certain... fantasies to materialize, usually late at night during pangs of carnal urges. These weren’t just dreams. They felt real. Ramón wished they were real.

Tonight he found himself on the receiving end of Clayton’s brute strength, taking a world-class fucking from his would-be lover. “Clay... fuck...” Ramón moans through gritted teeth, focusing on the non-stop sensations coursing through his heaving body. His cunt gripped around his lover’s fake cock, clenching and releasing with perfect timing each and every time. Even in this (imagined) sexual encounter, he and Clay were perfectly in sync.

“Gonna make me—” is all he can muster with words, arching his back into a delicate curve as Clay drove into him, chasing both their inevitable orgasms. A few more thrusts, and then Ramón finally falls off the edge, gushing around Clay’s thick intruder—

And then he wakes up in a cold sweat, his briefs soiled by a damp patch of slick from his nocturnal rendezvous with the object of his lust.