Nothing is ever more funny than Chase's indignation, and he can probably feel Jack's lips at the back of his neck pull into a wide grin. Now he definitely wants Chase to do it, if nothing else, just for the absurdity and insult of using such immense power for something like lubing yourself. Look, it's a life skill, okay? It'll make masturbation easier later. He'll tell him that sometime after. When he doesn't have his cock sliding between Chase's cheeks, head bumping against his hole with a want to just spear into him.
He lifts his head, though, as Chase looks to the side, submitting to doing this little trick for Jack, because he wants to see. He loves how his eyes light up, like fire eating away at his iris and shadow swallowing it all up. Menacing, maybe, but Jack thinks it's fucking gorgeous. Not to mention, hot as hell. He's trying it, though, and there's a gleeful kind of self-satisfaction in that. In the fact that Chase will do near anything Jack asks him to, regardless of whatever complaint he makes. There's a kind of dependency in that that Jack gets off on to a shameful degree. That is, if Jack felt shame for having power over people, ever.
Soon enough, the way Jack's grinding himself against Chase's ass becomes much smoother, slicker, and he knows Chase figured it out, dragging a half gasped chuckle from him. "Good boy."
Complete with cute little hair ruffle and all. But Jack's just as impatient to get this thing going as Chase is, moving press his free forearm to the bed near Chase's head, and press the rest of his weight against the arm he still has pinned to the small of his back, as he lifts up his hips. A moment of careful angling, to line himself up, and then, in one smooth, firm, not exactly slow roll of his hips, Jack's cock sinks forward into the hot, clinging, velvet soft channel of Chase's body. So fucking good, without the stretch, going all at once to the hilt, feeling Chase's body throb around him and twitch, adjusting to the intrusion. Jack finds himself lowering, forehead pressing to the back of Chase's shoulderblade, as a stuttered, breathless moan is punched from him.
"Fuck..." So eloquent. Not like he's worried about Chase of all people judging him for it. Already, he's moving, not in fast, punishing strokes that he'll get to later, but near all the way out and all back in, trying to recapture that first moment, savoring it, as his fingers twist tighter on Chase's wrist, pleasure like scalding heat spreading through him just under his skin.
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He lifts his head, though, as Chase looks to the side, submitting to doing this little trick for Jack, because he wants to see. He loves how his eyes light up, like fire eating away at his iris and shadow swallowing it all up. Menacing, maybe, but Jack thinks it's fucking gorgeous. Not to mention, hot as hell. He's trying it, though, and there's a gleeful kind of self-satisfaction in that. In the fact that Chase will do near anything Jack asks him to, regardless of whatever complaint he makes. There's a kind of dependency in that that Jack gets off on to a shameful degree. That is, if Jack felt shame for having power over people, ever.
Soon enough, the way Jack's grinding himself against Chase's ass becomes much smoother, slicker, and he knows Chase figured it out, dragging a half gasped chuckle from him. "Good boy."
Complete with cute little hair ruffle and all. But Jack's just as impatient to get this thing going as Chase is, moving press his free forearm to the bed near Chase's head, and press the rest of his weight against the arm he still has pinned to the small of his back, as he lifts up his hips. A moment of careful angling, to line himself up, and then, in one smooth, firm, not exactly slow roll of his hips, Jack's cock sinks forward into the hot, clinging, velvet soft channel of Chase's body. So fucking good, without the stretch, going all at once to the hilt, feeling Chase's body throb around him and twitch, adjusting to the intrusion. Jack finds himself lowering, forehead pressing to the back of Chase's shoulderblade, as a stuttered, breathless moan is punched from him.
"Fuck..." So eloquent. Not like he's worried about Chase of all people judging him for it. Already, he's moving, not in fast, punishing strokes that he'll get to later, but near all the way out and all back in, trying to recapture that first moment, savoring it, as his fingers twist tighter on Chase's wrist, pleasure like scalding heat spreading through him just under his skin.