Any retort he might have had is lost in between one beat of his heart and the next. Talking through nuzzling and petting and bases one through three, that's easy enough. The one upside to his night terrors is how tense and hyper aware he is for hours afterward, the slightest sound or touch registering with ten times the intensity. Having that racketing through his veins while North has a hand on him, around him, is nothing sort of torment.
North wants squirming? Wants some kind of reaction? He gets it.
The breath punches out of York with a ow whoosh, wrapped around some vague, vulgar mumble along the likes of 'sonovabitch', low and curling and needy. He's a greedy bastard, he'll be the first to admit it, but North never tails to make him that greedy by showing just how much there is to have- on North's terms.
"Jesusfuck Evan-" His hips roll up against that tight, teasing grip, a helpless undulation, all clenching muscle and twitching skin. "Don't tease, jackass."
He hates being strung out and made to beg. Except for the part where he really doesn't hate it at all. That overwhelming wave of sensation after being stretched out in a thin thread from toe to tip and just waiting for the trigger. Like the catch of a tumbler in a lock, the slide of a bullet in the chamber.
"You. you aren't sorry at all you sick fucker oh jesuschristquitit-" And by quit he means fucking GET TO THE REAL ISSUE, his hands tangling in North's hair and tugging with great insistence lower, and thank fuck his boxers are gone and he's bare but he's still. Not. Sucking. Dammit.
no subject
North wants squirming? Wants some kind of reaction? He gets it.
The breath punches out of York with a ow whoosh, wrapped around some vague, vulgar mumble along the likes of 'sonovabitch', low and curling and needy. He's a greedy bastard, he'll be the first to admit it, but North never tails to make him that greedy by showing just how much there is to have- on North's terms.
"Jesusfuck Evan-" His hips roll up against that tight, teasing grip, a helpless undulation, all clenching muscle and twitching skin. "Don't tease, jackass."
He hates being strung out and made to beg. Except for the part where he really doesn't hate it at all. That overwhelming wave of sensation after being stretched out in a thin thread from toe to tip and just waiting for the trigger. Like the catch of a tumbler in a lock, the slide of a bullet in the chamber.
"You. you aren't sorry at all you sick fucker oh jesuschristquitit-" And by quit he means fucking GET TO THE REAL ISSUE, his hands tangling in North's hair and tugging with great insistence lower, and thank fuck his boxers are gone and he's bare but he's still. Not. Sucking. Dammit.
"Quit dicking around and I'll think about it-"