[If there's one thing Theo's good at in every life, it's being flexible, bending his body according to Oliver's wishes and squirming against the bench seat of the car as he fucks into him hard and deep. His lips stay parted from his first gasped breath, head back and body briefly tightening around Oliver's cock before he's adjusted - laughing despite himself at the tongue to his ear, starting to swat at Oliver but instead just gripping at his hair with one hand.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[He says with another laugh turned moan, hips grinding up against Oliver for friction, leather of the seat sticking to his lower back and sweat beading on his brow already. He stares off over Oliver's shoulder, up at the roof of the car, eyes briefly unfocused as he settles into enjoying the moment. He'll start toning it back with the glamor, if only in Oliver's presence - but he's not sure he can guarantee keeping his eyes dark. It's the one thing that always sold him out to Willem and even though he'd still find him, it feels like a veil he still needs to wear. Maybe in good time he'll feel secure enough to let that crutch go.
Maybe if Oliver fucks him hard enough he'll need other crutches.
He gets particularly vocal, nails grazing up against the side of Oliver's neck, hand clasping up under his arm to scratch against his back through his shirt. Clawing like a cat but also breathing shallow and full of want, pleading for more between breaths and otherwise adding a lewd selection of curses and demands in the space between them. Very much along the lines of:]
no subject
I'll keep that in mind.
[He says with another laugh turned moan, hips grinding up against Oliver for friction, leather of the seat sticking to his lower back and sweat beading on his brow already. He stares off over Oliver's shoulder, up at the roof of the car, eyes briefly unfocused as he settles into enjoying the moment. He'll start toning it back with the glamor, if only in Oliver's presence - but he's not sure he can guarantee keeping his eyes dark. It's the one thing that always sold him out to Willem and even though he'd still find him, it feels like a veil he still needs to wear. Maybe in good time he'll feel secure enough to let that crutch go.
Maybe if Oliver fucks him hard enough he'll need other crutches.
He gets particularly vocal, nails grazing up against the side of Oliver's neck, hand clasping up under his arm to scratch against his back through his shirt. Clawing like a cat but also breathing shallow and full of want, pleading for more between breaths and otherwise adding a lewd selection of curses and demands in the space between them. Very much along the lines of:]
Fuck, yeah - fuck me, fuck me... D-Daddy, pl-please.
[The stutter was a laugh breaking through.]