Andy was close, so close, closer than he wanted to admit. But God, Scooter was beautiful like this, gorgeous, and watching Andy’s face with something like awe. And fuck, if it would keep that expression on Scooter’s face, Andy would clench down, hold back, let Scooter drive him wild with wanting until he couldn’t think at all. “Scooter, oh…Oh fuck, I…Oh God, it’s—” Words failed; his whole body sizzled like he was on fire. Every breath came out in a keening whine.
Scooter closed his hand gently around Andy’s dick, stroked him, slow, then faster, in counterpoint to his deep, inevitable rhythm. Faster again, deliberately ruthless, pulling Andy up to the edge. When Andy was whimpering, forgetting completely that he was supposed to be quiet, Scooter slowed his hips, his hand stilling and Andy stifled a sob. Scooter groaned at that, shockingly loud against the raging storm both outside and inside.