A/N: I have no good reason for writing this…..nope.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Desmond palmed his growing erection with a muffled moan. The waves of pleasure that greeted him with every press had him biting down harder. Blood teased his tongue with its copper taste.

Why was he being so quiet? Well, because anything louder than a whisper will alert the rest of the group. And having them catch him in the act doesn't exactly bode well with him. But there was this small part of him that jumped at the prospect of getting caught, needless to say, he was getting harder. If that had even been possible.

Wrapping a calloused hand around his cock, the assassin stroked the hardening flesh, rough hand against silky heat. the sensation had his eyes fluttering shut, mouth agape in a silent groan. Tightening his grip, Desmond's mind drifted into the past. When he was finally free and soaring in the depths of New York City. He was about 20 then, when he received his first blow from a patron at the bar. Even now he can still remember the hot puffs of air hitting his tip, causing shivers of ecstasy to run through him. The heat that came from the mouth-oh god, how could he have forgotten the tongue? The silver piercing that glinted in the low lights every time as it flicked out, tracing the head, dipping low to tease the slit.

He bucked into the tight grip, free hand flying up to cover the long groan that would have surely woken up the others.

Wet heat engulfed him in his mind, making every pump increasingly harder to slow down. He wanted it to be drawn out, to savor the feeling to simple pleasure. It was not like he had a chance to in the past few months. Desmond's mind held onto the memory, brown curls bouncing as she bobbed her head. Taking every inch of him into her orifice.

A whimpering moan pushed past its prison, making the one who caused it to freeze. Hand halting in mid stroke, thumb poised over the slit as he listened for any sounds of awakening assassins. None.

Relief spread across his chest, though he felt slightly disappointed. Weren't assassins supposed to be alert at all times?

Forcibly pulling his attention back to the shaft in his hand, Desmond upped the speed of the pumps. Precum sliding down in pearly orbs to lessen some of the friction with its slipperiness. Breathing heavily through his nose, the ex-bartender wondered just how on Earth did the others not hear him. The sound to flesh rubbing against flesh and those oh so very quiet moans. Not to mention the creaks that sounded with his every moment.

No matter.

In his mind, Desmond remember grabbing her hair, nails digging into her scalp as he fucked her mouth. Feeling the back of her throat wrapped around the tip of his cock as she pushed herself to swallow him deeper. Saliva sliding down her chin as she tightened her grip on his hips, nails copying his in their actions.


He could feel his muscles tightening, toes curling within their confinements. Licks of pleasure grabbed tightly onto his conscious

"Ah..ah" Desmond gave up on trying to cover his sounds with his hand, now, he just needed release. And having both hands to double the ministration was exactly what he needed. Hips bucking and jerking into every caress, the ex bartender arched as one lovely-perfect, stroke brought him over the edge. White flared behind closed lids, hot ropes of cum flow free. Staining the light blanket he covered himself with.

Hands moved faster, milking their owner of every last drop until no more could be given. Soft pants rose into the cool air of the vault as he returned to Earth, limbs heavy with post euphoria.

He really needed to clean the mess before someone woke up and find him with his blanket that now sported wet spots.

...so. yeah. nothing to say here eue

other than the fact I only post some of my writings here and on tumblr eue

grandfatherkenway . tumblr . com - I am there uwu just remove spaces