Atton Rand (
stuck_mynock) wrote2010-11-07 02:42 am
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[AU OOM] Gym. (Warning for explicit content.)
Atton is in the gym, in a grey tank top and shorts, wailing on a punching bag with considerable vehemence.
The vehemence most likely isn't really anger, per se - more just enthusiasm combined with another sort of frustration stemming from being away from the bar for several months.
Either way, he's been there long enough that he's literally dripping with sweat: His hair is stuck flat to his head, his clothes are soaked through and clinging to him, it's flying off in droplets every time he makes a sharp movement.
The vehemence most likely isn't really anger, per se - more just enthusiasm combined with another sort of frustration stemming from being away from the bar for several months.
Either way, he's been there long enough that he's literally dripping with sweat: His hair is stuck flat to his head, his clothes are soaked through and clinging to him, it's flying off in droplets every time he makes a sharp movement.
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"You sound like you're enjoying this," Atton notes wryly.
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"You noticed?" he asks, voice low and heavy. "Bastard."
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The extra finger and the force makes him moan outright, head tipped right back as he gasps, lips parted.
"Atton," he manages, pushing his hips back against Atton's fingers and just about matching the rhythm. "Atton..."
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"You're such a bastard," he says fondly, when he can talk.
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In the same movement he pushes in, bucking his hips back and forth hard.
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Sam's body moves in time with Atton's, one hand slipping between his own legs.
"Mine," he says softly, panting-laughing. "Mine all mine..."
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"Yours."
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"Mine."
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"All yours."
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"Good."