#064. ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢ ᵒⁿ ᵈʳᵃʷᶦⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ && ᶠᵉᵃʳ ~ arc; where i belong

[hecame]

❛  that's it, sweetheart, keep going just like that.  ❜ (from richie)

it had started off as a show of dominance, pushing Richie up against the wall the way he had, one hand firm on his chest as the other SNAKED into his pants to jerk him off. They'd been dancing around it too long, Beck on the edge of insanity every time they were close because the two of them REEKED of desire for each other and the flirting just wasn't cutting it anymore, as much as he loved it.

The look on Richie's face was smug even as he touched him && Beck's heart was pounding because how dare he. How dare he not come undone , how dare he stare into Beck's eyes and just take it as if it were just another regular day.

Well shit. His other hand had fumbled with his button and zipper and he'd found himself on one knee to slide his mouth over the head of Richie's now freed length. That seems to get some sort of reaction out of the other man but not a lot, && Beck is starting to lose his temper. Up and down he goes, sucking so forcefully his cheeks press inward .

━━━━━━━━ "that's it sweetheart, , keep going just like that."

The words sting against his skin, hairs raising on the back of his neck. Blue eyes raise to look into Richie's face, full of disdain. Sweetheart? oh no, no he doesn't get to speak to him like that.

He's about to pull off , to tell him to shove it. That he's not doing it for him. But then Richie's hand is on his head && he's brushing his hair back from his face. Deep down Beck knows that he's probably doing it just to get a better look at his face as he sucks him off but something simmers in his chest and decides to classify it as affection. Which breaks Beck.

His whole macho façade falls away, stomach flipping at the fingers at his forehead. A long, almost pained whine sounding around the soldier's cock - anger having dissolved into desperation.

Because if there's one thing about Beck? He fights for dominance because of what his own submissiveness does to him. && here he is, so easily crumbling. Eyes soften, becoming doe like and gentle, pushing himself down further until the tip of Richie is pushing at the back of his throat in a way that's almost uncomfortable. God does he like that.

Another sound, a moan that fills the air around them- not loud enough to be heard by passersby because its muffled by his full mouth but close.

It almost sounds like a 'please'.