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Where Are You Going and Where Have You Been; for lucier <3
Topic Started: Apr 5 2010, 11:39 PM (1,231 Views)
passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
As he felt the hand on his shoulder, Sawyer lifted his eyes back to Jason. He lowered his hand. "Of course it's ruined. But you might as well let me get the worst of it out so you can venture back with a less than noticeable stain..." he gave a shrug. His eyes drifted back to the stains, and he began to pat the napkin back to his front. The cold water caused the pale material to cling to Jason's chest, right over one of his pectorals and nipple beneath.

Though Sawyer was hardly sexual with his touches. His brows furrowed a bit as Json asked why in the world he had dragged him off to the men's room. "... Maybe I felt sorry for you," he shrugged a little. Or maybe Sawyer wasn't the type to kick a bastard when he was down. Might have been a flaw to some people, but... it just wasn't what he did. Besides, it appeared Jason had stayed true to his word. No leaks to any papers. He tossed the napkin into the nearby trash can.

He eased back then, as he looked over the other man's shirt. He wasn't so sure if making it wet and clinging to his skin was all that helpful, but at least the stain was ... a lot less bright. He pinched the fabric, and gave it a few flaps, as a hint of a bemused smile tweaked his lips. His eyes rose to meet Jason's again, before looking back down to the wet spot on his shirt.

Maybe he was being was too positive today. Ironic that seeing Jason Lansky get doused in hot coffee could be such a pick me up. But maybe... just maybe he hoped if he played the role of nice guy, that next time he might have happened to catch him in a less than desirable position, he wouldn't... require any sort of payment in return for keeping quiet. Just maybe. Or perhaps he was giving the selfish Senior Advisor a bit too much credit for his humanity.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
But Jason was wet... and sometimes wet equated to horny and although today was not one of those days, if he was not Senior Advisor to the White House, he might have made good on his threat. Besides, he wouldn't even demand payment. But anyway, that was besides the point. Hastily, he cleared his throat and hurried to button his suit so that the stain was only halfway noticeable. Having someone being kind to you for the sake of being kind was a very strange feeling. One that Jason hardly knew how to deal with.

Also the reason why he slept with men, most men seemed to be emotionally handicapped. But no, "... Maybe I felt sorry for you," He had been told a lot worse things, but he didn't even want to contemplate why that stung the way it did.

"I'd rather you laughed," Jason said. Perhaps the most honest thing he had ever said in a while. But it was true, he knew how to handle it when people laughed at him. He didn't know how to go about deal when people felt sorry for him...and that was maybe his own brand of pathetic.

"But thank you anyway," He hesitated a moment, and settled his hand briefly on Sawyer's shoulder. "Go enjoy your sandwich." Perhaps it was easier to be a bastard about it, but coffee on his shirt (might even be a brand name label, pissed off everyone. Including Jason, even if everyone slid fairly easily off his shoulders.

But before he reached for the door, Jason tossed a look over his shoulder, "Oh, and Huron called me, said you were doing well." (Although he hadn't any idea why he had said that, either.)
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sawyer watched as Jason seemed incredibly out of his element. It was kind of funny, seeing the man so down right vulnerable. He gave a nod as he was thanked, and his hands slid into his pockets.

"... Will do," he mused as he told him to go enjoy his sandwich. He watched as Jason hurried for the door. His brows furrowed just a bit. So Huron had been saying good things about him. That was good, he guessed. Since the New Yorker wasn't quite so political, he'df ound himself rather content being there. As content as he could be anyway.

"... Good to know..." he murmured. Maybe in some ways, giving him that Senior Advisor job had been more on equal terms with Jason getting him that job at the New Yorker. Though it still was the payment, in his opinion, for Jason to keep quiet. He let out a little sigh as he glanced to his reflection in the mirror. Why the hell had he even stepped in? He didn't owe the man anything. Sure he felt bad for him in that moment but... shouldn't he have taken sick pleasure and laughed at him, as Jason said he would have preferred him to?

... was that how people treated him in general? Maybe... maybe that was why Jason seemed content to use people as he saw fit.

He headed out of the bathroom shortly. Eric quirked a brow. "... You make it a habit of helping random people in distress?" he mused. Sawyer glanced up to his co-worker and gave a shrug. "I guess?" he left it at that.

---

When Jason arrived back at his room, he'd find... a small envelope that looked like it had been slid under his door. It had no label on it, except for his first and last name. Inside was a single slip of paper.

' Dear Mr. Lansky:

You might want to make friends with c4ptnm0rg4n.'

Simple, to the point. But who the hell had sent it? And who's screen name... was listed?
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
And of course Jason hightailed it out of there as fast as possible. For some reason, he could not stand to be in that restroom a moment longer. Worst thing was, he didn't eve know why, Jason liked the whys of a question, it felt like he knew everything. And he thought he understood Sawyer from his hotel tryst, but now he had to evaluate the man all over again. Reevaluating people was one of the things he did...worst?

Jason drove home, changed into a new shirt, chained smoked two cigarettes before going back to the White House. All routine, got yelled by security, and was back in his office for the afternoon. He hated not being able to smoke as often as he liked on the new job, but there were all sacrifices that one had to make for a story. He was obviously closer to the President than he had been...worst thing was he was still clean. Fuck.

There was an envelope on his carpet under his door. Succinctly:

' Dear Mr. Lansky:

You might want to make friends with c4ptnm0rg4n.'


On instinct, Jason immediately tore up the envelope. There was no telling where it came from, but it was good not to leave traces of tips. Whoever had come up here must have been really stealthy too, his new office wasn't exactly on the way.

.

But he knew better than to peruse stuff like that at the office, so Jason didn't get to his computer until later that night, around eleven. Figured that was late enough if anything interesting was going to happen. He had an active dislike for computers and tended to write everything by hand, and he couldn't remember the last time that he'd used an IM client for anything...must be during grad school...or something.

SInce the anonymous tipster had neglected to tell him which client, for safety's sake, perhaps? Jason had to download several before he found one that listed 'c4ptnm0rg4n.'

It was worth a shot, thank you deep throat. Or perhaps he'd thank him later. Jason supposed he'd been an idiot during his grad school days, but he thought his screename was endlessly fitting. 'Mr. Dominos9.'

Hi there.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Surprisingly after the peculiar run in with Jason at the Corner Bakery had left Sawyer more relaxed. He even cracked a faint smile or two as Eric continued to batter his ears with conversation. His mood, oddly uplifted. Never would have guessed Jason Lansky could have that effect. Maybe it was because he'd seen the fit justice of the man who's caught him getting covered in coffee. Which he suppose made him twisted. But hell a lot worse things could have happened. Sawyer oddly enough didn't dislike the man enough to wish those things upon him. Not yet anyway...

The rest of his day was typically mundane. He worked on one of his first minor articles, checked in with his higher ups (Huron being among them), and checked out sometime around 7 pm. Security of course gave him no issues as he drove up in his Porsche, such a different approach compared to how they treated Lansky on a daily basis.

He trundled up the stairs while yanking his tie off. He caught a glimpse of his father in the Yellow room. The two shared eye contact for a few minutes, before the young man headed on to his room and closed the door behind him. It was a bit ridiculous sometimes. He felt like a teenager half the time, going through that idiotic emo phase that caused any young puberty ridden soul to lock them selves up and write 'dramatic' poetry. Whenever he took a step back from that, he would scowl at himself. It wasn't exactly like he had much of a choice. If he went out to do the things he most enjoyed he'd get disowned and bring great dishonor to his father and the Republican party. So truly... what choice did he really have besides locking himself in every night?

A casual call from his sister interrupted his thoughts. He kept her on the phone as he went about cooking something simple for dinner in the kitchen on their resident floor. Mr. and Mrs. President on the other hand had since gone out, likely attending some fancy shin dig as they did often. Not that Sawyer particularly minded having the 'House' to himself (the resident floor anyway). He hung up with his sister around 9 PM, after having the older congratulate him on going out to lunch with a co-worker, for the second time in... two months? It had caused the girl's younger brother to roll his eyes.

After finishing his dinner, he'd flopped back onto his bed. Boots was curled up at the foot, taking a cat nap. He smiled to the cat, but didn't disturb him. He yanked his laptop over and soon pulled up some of his files... and went to work. Though writing for his own enjoyment never felt like work to Sawyer.

Needless to say, at the sight of that rat, Jack Mirsky, drenched in the steaming hot coffee, Morgan found himself tickled with a twisted sort of amusement. It served him right. And idly, the President's son had to wonder of Karma truly did exist.

His co-worker, Trevor, found himself staring as Morgan rose up from his seat a bit suddenly. Morgan himself did not know what possessed him in those moments, but he soon found his fingers wrapping securely around Jack's wrist...


Maybe it was therapeutic for him to write about the dirty and not so dirty dealings in his life under the guise of hidden names. Or perhaps he was hoping the day he finally did come out of the closet, he could make a killing on his own memoirs. Who knew. But Sawyer had found great enjoyment is writing up events such as these. It got them out of his head and onto 'paper', and helped clear his mind.

He stretched his fingers a bit, as his brows furrowed and he let out a soft sigh. He pushed some of his shaggy hair out of his face. His father had been bugging him about going to get it cut soon. Guess he'd have to put that on his to do list later.

Needing a break from writing, he saved his work, and closed out Microsoft Word. Sawyer's eyes and his mouse cursor soon hovered over the familiar IM client icon. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, till finally he double clicked. At times he felt guilty for lying to people he considered his 'friends' online, but ... well even a hermit like himself needed some sort of socialization without the stress of being found out.

He relaxed on the bed, as a few of the familiar screen names popped up immediately. JJhots84, SunshineGuy1980, s0cc3rb01, superqueen2813... Mr.Dominos9?

He didn't recognize that one. But he wasn't all that bothered by making new friends...

Hi there yourself. A/S/L?
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
For the second time in not that very long, Jason felt very old and out of his depth. Even though he was good at spinning, he wasn't good at any of this...technology stuff. He only owned a palm pilot because Ross had told him that every self-respected journalist owned at least a Blackberry...if he didn't want one, fine. At least get a palm pilot and learn how to fucking use it, thank you. You're an embarrassment.

c4ptnm0rg4n had replied back to him: Hi there yourself, A/S/L?

Okay, the fuck was ASL? Maybe he would really have been happier in the eighties when spinning things were a lot less complicated. Google told him it was online chat slang for age, sex, location. He was way out of his depth here. Thankfully, there was a knock at his door --

"Who is it?" Jason called out.

"Mark."

Mark. Mark was a twenty-something bellboy who probably would know the ropes of this better than Jason ever would. "Door's open," and a moment later, Mark was bending over him peering at his computer screen.

"Mr. Lansky! Are you soliciting someone for cyber sex? The real thing isn't that exciting anymore?" Mark practically gaffawed, clutching his stomach, because yes, it was that hilariious.

"I'm working." Jason gritted out, "Anyway, help me do this, I'll pay you three hundred."

And because Mark was such a slut for money and would do anything for three hundred, "What, you want to watch me get off -- okay, okay, I'll do it." Inching closer to Jason as their shoulders brushed, Mark's fingers flew over the keys.

23 m baltimore. u?names tony.

"Haven't you ever heard of capitalization?" Jason was a bit peeved and Mark just shot him a smirk.

"This is chat, old man, grammar conventions need not apply, usually I don't even type out words. What the fuck is this for, anyway?"

Jason let out a breath, "I wish I knew."
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
In the midst of waiting for a reply, Sawyer did was he always did... talked to other people in the mean time. He got his headphones on and got some music going as well, and even dialed up youtube. Hm... Ironic the Internet seemed to be the only place he could relax, fully. Though he was sure the right people could probably track all his activity to him, if they felt so damn inspired. He just hoped such a day never came. And he did his best to always cover his tracks. Clearing history, using proxy servers, and definitely having no Google results under his screen name.

He looked back to the newcomer's window.

23 m baltimore, u?names tony,

Sawyer had to smirk. Maybe it was just his experience, but the guys he met who typed like this were either preteens, or typing one handed. Honestly he hoped it was the latter...

25 m d.c. You can call me Morgan. Who gave you my name?

He figured one of his other friends had done so. It wasn't all that out of the blue. And perhaps he was a bit odd for using capitalization and punctuation in his IMing. He was just... odd like that. Must have come from his writing background, would be his own guess.

~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"Will you lookit that? Your lover boy's right here in D.C," Mark pinched him, "And twenty-five's not a bad age for an old man like you? Do you know anyone named Morgan?"

"I feel like my I.Q. has just dropped fifty points watching you type," Jason did, and he wasn't exaggerating, for the most part. "And I told you, I'm not into cyber." In fact, he hated the Internet. Really would have been better off living in the eighties. "Scoot." He studied the message that had popped up next. "I'll just do this myself." (But he wasn't twenty-three, his name was not Tony, and he was definitely not illiterate. Undercover was fun, but only sometimes.

25 m d.c. You can call me Morgan. Who gave you my name?

"But I want my three hundred, you said," Mark tugged idly at Jason's collar, "If you're not into cyber, what are you even doing?"

Jason ignored him for the most part, and typed in Just a mutual friend. Maybe he could pass as having schizophrenia with this screen name, sometimes he was grammatically correct, sometimes he just wasn't.

"Now he's going to know it's not me," Mark said. "Who the hell even types in chat?"

"Apparently people like me and Mr. Morgan, whoever he is," Jason stared back at the screen. If this was something investigatory, he was definitely not going to want Mark here, "Here, just take the three hundred and get out." Mark looked like he wanted to argue, but three hundred dollars was always tantalizing. Once he was gone, Jason added.

You seem to be popular. Which was normal enough, if this Morgan guy asked who gave him his name. 'Tony' was what his grandmother always called Mark, apparently. Must have really liked Tony the tiger as a kid...although he was not proud of his sudden pseudonym, Jason would make do. Jason reached for his thick files on the White House employees and started to flip through the profiles...he doubted anyone would be stupid enough, but it was worth a try.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sawyer, needless to say, was bemused as he was told he was popular. On the net, maybe. He tipped his head back, with an amused look on his face.

Lemme guess, Cliff gave you my name?

Little did Sawyer know, he was just helping his new 'friend' concoct his fake identity all the more. But truly he was not aware, at all. The Internet, for him, was his last safe haven. And with his name never being published anywhere (not like anyone even knew it was him), he'd considered he'd been pretty safe.

Though he was a tad uneasy at the fact this fellow lived in Baltimore. He'd never chatted with someone so close before, in terms of physical distance. And that could prove to be a problem. Much as he enjoyed his online buddies, meeting them was out of the question. And his normal excuse had been distance. Be it states or sometimes even different countries. But nope... Baltimore was a hop and skip away from D.C.

So then... what are you into?

Sawyer chewed on his bottom lip. Okay maybe he was more than just a bit perverted on the inside. Or maybe it was because he was so incredibly sexually repressed. Who the hell knew. He could only assume, if Cliff considered it worth it to give him his name, that this fellow was 'like him'. A fan of the cock...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
So now Jason was Tony, twenty-three, from Baltimore. Sometimes prone to a serious dip in IQ points. He jotted all that down on a post-it in shorthand. All good journalists had their own system, if someone knew how to read your notes, you'd really be in trouble. For Jason, the code started the alphabet at F, and everything was shifted over that way. It'd taken him forever to work out the system, it was not foolproof, but better than nothing. He was about to light a cigarette when another message popped up.

Lemme guess, Cliff gave your my name?

Cliff. Okay, no idea who that was, but Jason scrawled 'hqdkk' down on the post it and underlined it twice. He started another post-it and started jotting down what little he knew about this Morgan. D.C. 25...educated? That one warranted a question mark. This was hardly an intellectual activity. Maybe this Cliff guy was his deep throat.

I guess he makes it that obvious. You got me. He's in the habit of flinging your name out?

Well...if this Morgan guy was only looking for cyber sex, then -- the tip had been just careful enough to make Jason curious.

So then...what are you into?

Uh...now Jason was beginning to wish he had not sent Mark away. Having cyber sex always killed his intelligence. What was he into? Realistically, hands,..and he had never had to profile what he liked in sex before. Besides, what business did he have being honest? This was giving him a headache. Lucky for you, I'm easy and eager to please. Yourself? Maybe he had some weird kink or something, Jason was really starting to regret this tip.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
He does sometimes. But it's cool. I like meeting new people.

Sawyer smiled a bit to himself as his hand came up and smoothed over his mouth and chin a bit. Okay maybe he got some sort of thrill out of meeting new people online. A lot of them were real dogs but he could pretend that there was secretly a hot guy talking to him on the other end of the line.

Lucky for you, I'm easy and eager to please. Yourself?

Hm... what a generic answer. Either he was shy or actually just moderately normal, in Sawyer's opinion. Not necessarily all bad.

Long as you got a cock, I'm pretty interested. So I guess you say I'm pretty easy to please too.

Sawyer smirked a bit more. His eyes had softened, as if almost drunk, yet he hadn't touched any heavy drinks today.

... You wanna watch me?

Okay, maybe the President's son was a bit of an exhibitionist... Just a bit. Yeah... He was already working open his fly. Even if 'Tony' didn't want to watch, he knew plenty of his other 'friends' would enjoy watching...
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
At that, Jason scribbled a few more things beside 'hqdkk' and sighed. This was so not his cup of tea, honestly. The things he did for journalism, it was ridiculous. Maybe he was getting old. Maybe he should get drunk to do this. It definitely worked better. He stubbed his cigarette out again and went to the bar to pour himself a stiff shot of...something. He wasn't quite sure what, Mark was in charge of keeping his bar full. His jobs always consisted of stuff like janitor, bartender, and the like. All he knew was that it was kind of strong and he needed strong.

He returned to his computer only to find --

Long as you got a cock, I'm pretty interested. So I guess you say I'm pretty easy to please too. Wanna watch me?

Jesus, Jason gulped down another gulp of his drink and it burned all the way down. Guy didn't waste any time, did he? Besides, if this Morgan was going to show him...well...probably his cock and just not his face. Whatever. Jason was not good at recognizing crotches, but maybe if the guy was especially well endowed or something...

Well, if the guy was offering, he might as well get off on it. He hadn't gotten his daily quota of sex, and the thing with the coffee in the afternoon just totally ruined his day. Still didn't see the appeal, he'd try everything once.

Got a cock, and a hard one. Let's see it. Didn't make him feel like any less of an idiot.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]

Got a cock, and a hard one. Let's see it.


Sawyer grinned like an idiot. Okay he was excited. He couldn't help it. Feeling wanted, even if it was only sexual... it felt good. No judging. No reputations to uphold. Just... pure primal sexuality fueling him and those who admired what he had to offer.

He bit his plush bottom lip, as he adjusted the screen of his laptop, so that the little built in webcam would be... looking down. He'd yanked his pants on down, leaving only his boxers still hiding him. Checkered boxers.

Okay, hold on a second while ... I get you set up.

The First Son got more comfortable on his bed, before sending out his ... video chat invitation. He got a few lookers already, and he patiently waited for 'Tony' to okay his invite before really starting.

Though once he did, Sawyer drew in a slow breath, let it out, and his hand slid on down, between his legs. He caressed gently over himself, fingers wrapping about the hidden member within his boxers. Although his face could not be seen, his soft sounds could be heard. A bit of panting, and a few gentle little moans.

His left kept it's hold on his still clothed member, while he began to type with his right again, temporarily.

tell me what you want me to do. you have the control...

He lost the capitalization when it came to one handed typing... still oddly more literate than Mark had been though. Funny how that worked.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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lucier
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si vis pacem, para bellum
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Video -- right, it was one way, and Jason doubted he was going to see anything but the guy's package anyway. So maybe he wouldn't jerk off, because it wasn't as if Morgan knew. Besides, maybe it would even be a familiar package. Maybe it was a bell boy -- shit, if it was a bell boy, didn't it mean that...Jason was the one getting blackmailed? It was altogether possible. That option made the possibility of getting off to this...out of the question. All he had to do was type sexually obscene things on the computer...he thought he could do that...

He clicked 'Accept' to the invite. And the blur of someone's checked boxers suddenly filled his screen. He found himself wondering about the brand name of the underwear and whether the guy had any noticeable birthmarks near his privates.

He needed to be ten years younger, most definitely.

tell me what you want me to do. you have the control...

Definitely educated. Not breaking spelling during Internet sex. A writer? A journalist? A columnist? Definitely someone who cared about the language enough. Jason studied his hands...and there were moans coming from the speakers, he turned it up, to see if it was a voice he recognized...didn't think so. When this was over, Jason would treat himself to an old fashioned wank in the shower.

Finally, he typed in: Boxers off. Rub your balls before you touch yourself. Even if he was typing one handed...capitalization was still his friend, but since he didn't have any online buddies, he doubted that Morgan would be too suspicious of him. You get off to people telling you what to do? Tell me you want me.

Some people didn't like to say words. But in Jason's limited experience during grad school,where sex had been off limits because it took too much time, he'd wanked between study sessions and words like that...hardly mattered. They meant nothing. But he wondered if he could recognize the guy's voice.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sawyer kept his gaze toward the screen on his laptop. He trailed his tongue over his lips as he got an answer out of 'Tony'.

"Mm..." he hooked his thumbs into his boxers, and he eased them down in a teasing manner, inch by inch. Soon enough his perking proud length and the thatch of dark curls at the apex of his thighs was bared. He adjusted a bit, to get the boxers the rest of the way down, leaving his thighs and lower body bare.

As told, his hand bypassed his intrigued length, and soon cupped the soft sacks that hung beneath. He drew in a slow breath and let it out as he gently stroked himself.

"Mm... Yeah... I want you," he whispered in a husk, loud enough for his mic to pick it up. His hips arched up a bit, into his hand. He hadn't even stroked his shaft and it was already rising, likely a turn on for the younger man that he was being watched.

"Wish your hands were... on me..." he murmured. "What do you want me to do now?" he added quietly. His fingers were itching to wrap about himself. To pump and squeeze.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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