what remains

[punishmcnts-blog]

S A L E M.

again, in his experience with the closeted men lucky enough to grab his attention, he hasn’t really known one to be quite so forward. under ordinary bedroom circumstances, salem gets off on being told what to do like the true submissive he is. he likes it rougher than most and he’s not ashamed of it. when he’s playing the role of filthy teacher, though, it’s not often that he gets to experience anything close to the domination he craves so this frat boy not even fucking hesitating in gripping salem’s ass and grinding their hard ons together is delightful in and of itself. so much so that a shocked little moan escapes his mouth before he can thing to bite it back. best not to give his current company too much confidence or else salem won’t feel like he’s teaching him anything. “it is what i wanna do,” salem keens, using the leverage of their new position to lean up and mouth along the strong cut of the boy’s jawline. he’s not going to let forrest have the upper-hand, it’s simply not an option. “i wanna taste you on my tongue. wanna feel you coming apart just at how good i am with my mouth.” slender digits twist in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him down closer. a pleasant little shiver runs up his spine and he swivels his hips in a sensual figure eight where they’re pressed so tantalizingly firm against forrest’s. “i know you’re straight and all,” the whisper of his voice is sinful on its own, made even worse when paired with wandering fingers starting to unbutton the frat boy’s ungodly tight jeans, “but it’s pretty gay to be this hard just from kissing my neck, don’t you think?” the palm of his hand ghosts down between forrest’s legs, pressing none too gently against his erection. “just like it’s pretty gay to want you to choke me with this cock of yours, d–” salem stops himself. he’s known for being very fond of dirty talk in the bedroom but restrains himself for one of two reasons. firstly, they aren’t in the ‘bedroom’ exactly and also, while he’s certainly displaying a certain amount of eagerness as he sinks to his knees and works forrest’s jeans down his thighs, he’s not desperate. salem wants this boy to know that he could be in here with anyone. he could have his pick of cocks to be sucking in this particular closet and defaulting to ‘daddy’ would only stroke curly’s ego. salem’s aiming for a different kind of stroking. “do you think you can?” he covers as swiftly as his pause allows, fluttering his lashes up at the still standing, and deliciously tall, male. light kisses are placed to both his hipbones and then trailed towards his navel, nose brushing contently along a prominent happy trail.

forrest knows he’s positively fucked then, absolutely destroyed. any reservations that he’s had to this situation are completely out the window and have been from the moment salem dropped to his knees. the brunette can’t stop his hands from greedily tangling into his blonde locks, knuckles clutching the hair until they turned white, working as some form of a distraction to keep his urgency at bay. his cock was pushing heavily against his skinnies, leaking through his underwear, and he’s sure once he gets undressed, salem will make a comment about how he’s practically begging for it whether he likes it or not. a hearty whimper leaves his throat at the thought of having salem’s plump, scarlet lips wrapped around him, pushing his member deeper and deeper until the other can’t possibly take it any longer, until he’s gagging for it. forrest knows salem likes to get rough at this point; it’s obvious in his language and in his movements, and fuck, forrest loves it. he’s always been the dominant type, always loved to take control, and now’s not any different. in fact, he thinks he’ll get quite the pleasure for controlling the mouthy boy beneath him. “well, fucking suck me off if you’re going to do it then,” he rudely chides, pushing his clothed erection against the other’s lips, willing him to finally set him free. there’s a fire resting deep within his body, picking up power with each kiss that salem presses into his skin; it’s needy, it’s filthy. “i swear to fucking god, just -- fucking do something.” he’s not keen on begging, but he’s so painfully hard at this point that he physically can’t keep playing into these games. in fact, he’s sure that if salem continued to tease him, he could come like that -- that’s how worked up he is. his hands continue to muss up his hair, pushing him closer and closer to his end destination, his heart pumping furiously in his chest as he knows what’s going to happen within the next few seconds. “come on, then. i know you’re practically salivating to get that mouth of yours around me. quit the teasin’ -- it isn’t cute.” he's waited for what seems like ages for this, and while this might be some rump in a closet for salem, an average weekend night for him, this is different for forrest. he's only been able to think about this in private thoughts, only able to use his hand and picture it as someone else's while he's having a wank in the bathroom. this is everything to him; it's him becoming himself, finally falling victim to his so called "demons" that he's been so adament on avoiding, and dear god, if salem doesn't get his fucking lips around his erection, he thinks he might pass out. never in his life has he been this hard, not even when he's found a really good porno with a squeaky bottom riding dick like there's no tomorrow. if anything, at least he has this now for his wank bank too.

[punishmcnts-blog]

S A L E M.

where some gay men can’t deal with those stuck in the denial of the closet, salem doesn’t share that sentiment. if anything, he thinks it’s more satisfying and if that makes him a bad person, so be it. it doesn’t mean that he’s not going to tease at first but as there’s a time limit on their hookup, he’s not going to mess around for too long. “they never are,” he sighs wistfully, pleasantly surprised at how he’s being brought in towards the other’s broad chest and made to stay there. sexuality confusion usually comes with hesitation and salem’s not reading any of that in the other male’s intentions. he tilts his head easily to allow for easier access to the thin column of his neck, delighted at the soft brushing of lips to his skin. it’s not enough – is anything ever really enough? – but it’s a start. hungry fingertips start venturing down the brunet boy’s chest, exploratory as he feels out his toned frame with obvious pleasure in the roaming. two fingers hook into the beltloops of his pants and he glances at the other through his lashes. “i’m the queen of something that’s why,” salem explains matter-of-factly, however his voice has gone softer in his already building arousal. “and you’re going to find out just what that is, if you ask for it.” in the juvenile version of this game they’re playing, salem’s sure that the seven minutes are supposed to be spent fumbling around for a kiss. he sort of wants to take the time to kiss this beautiful boy’s lush lips for the rest of their time limit because he imagines him to be quite fun to makeout with but they aren’t kids. this needs to be just as filthy as salem prides himself on and it needs to be quick about it. “you know,” salem starts, his breath hitching and hips rolling forward of their own accord, “if you aren’t gay, you might want to stop that hickey you’re going to leave on my neck. there’s no one else in here to give it to me, sweetheart.” from salem’s tone and the tug he gives to the other’s jeans, it’s clear he’s personally not bothered by the thought of his neck being all marked up. he’s all but gagging for it with the little sounds that start slipping from parted lips. salem’s not the type to make the first move so he’s just a nod away from dropping to his knees and he’s sure the lust blown expression on his face is enough to communicate that to his new ‘friend’.

he’s drowning. he’s drowning in need and hunger and pleasure, and he never wants it to stop. however, salem’s right. with a slight huff, forrest finds himself detaching his lips from his delectable neck before a mark can be made, and while he detests himself for not being able to have the balls and just say “fuck it”, his closeted worries are the last thing on his mind right about now. he sucks in his breath at the blonde’s words, a small grunt in reply leaving his lips voluntarily. he can feel himself tightening in his black skinnies, aching to be released, to experience the pleasure that he’s denied himself for too damn long. sucking in his bottom lip and licking along the chapped edges, he nods, a simple statement that means all the world to the both of them. there’s no turning back for forrest at this point; he’s about to venture into something that he knows he’ll never forget, drunk or not, and while he knows he should push the other away, he tugs him even closer, hands moving to smooth and rub against his back until the rest at his plump bum, palms closing around each cheek and give him a hearty squeeze, eyes dancing in wonder and amusement. he was proper fit, and forrest knew he knew it too, so he wasn’t about to give him the pleasure of complimenting his ass, no matter how much he wanted to tell him how lovely it felt in either of his hands. his hips rocks forward, dragging his erection along the confines of salem’s hips as well, relishing in feeling his own tent of pleasure arising as well. at least he wasn’t alone in this shitshow of a situation. “yeah? why don’t you show me?” he finally opens his mouth to utter, his voice hot and sticky and so low that it’s almost impossible to hear him, “y’know, since we both know that’s what you wanna do.” a smirk follows that statement, knowing that it’s bound to set the other off somehow. he’s headstrong, they both are. these two, whether they realize it or not, are on a course for disaster, bound to destroy the other. and as much as forrest knows this, he can't stop his excitement from showingboth physically and emotionally. he's bound to look pathetic and needy, two traits that should not belong to a frat boy, but once again, he's too wrapped up in the situation to care. in fact, he's sure that salem must feed off of it because he wouldn't be here otherwise, he wouldn't be playing into his games.

[postcolonialrage]

[punishmcnts-blog]

S A L E M.

salem would swear up and down that his luck was nonexistent – he wasn’t called jinx all through grade school for nothing – and yet as party boy’s spin landed on him of all people, he considered rethinking that statement. the blonde to the right of his new interest seemed wholly disappointed that not only was she not the lucky recipient of seven minutes with a frat boy but curly had entirely ignored the way she was so obviously pushing out her chest to make her boobs seem bigger. salem’s very gay and even he noticed, for what that’s saying. the cocky grin and firmly ‘no homo’ laughter alerted salem immediately to his situation. frat boys didn’t make out with the most flamboyantly ‘out’ queer kid on campus. in fact, it’s a wonder he’s even been let into the frat house at all with his makeup, high heeled boots, shiny sliver leggings and an oversized blouse that may as well be a dress at this point, he’s drowning in the fabric. “how serendipitous,” salem trills with an edge to his voice that might as well have broadcast how he had figured him out in a matter of seconds. no one looked that long at salem with bedroom eyes who wasn’t at least a little gay. “but call me bud again and it’s going to be the longest seven minutes of your life, pal.” much as he wants to ignore the extended hand and be the strong, independent woman he prides himself on embodying, his heels and intoxication levels prevent him from being quite so gallant. dainty hand slides into frat boy’s much larger grip and he lets himself be lifted to his feet. he also lets himself enjoy how easily he was lifted and relishes in the slightest touch. as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the group, stepping into the closet, salem arches a brown and glances upwards to meet the pair of emerald green eyes that he’s recently decided are his favorite color. “all in good fun?” he mimics, the door sliding shut behind his slender frame.

he finds himself rolling his eyes at the other, and as much as he enjoyed hearing him speak before, he’s decided that he would much rather keep him silent. forrest’s eyes are filled with fire then, burning holes into salem’s form as he stares him up and down like a piece of meat, almost barbarically. “i’m not gay,” he mutters, mostly to himself. he isn’t, he tells himself over and over again, but really, he can’t stop his feet from carrying him closer to the petite blonde. he can’t stop his hands from grasping his waist to haul him impossibly closer, their chests pressing so close together that he swears he can feel their heartbeats mingling together. he can’t help but feel the hot burn of desire rock through him like a fucking tidal wave. none of it is his fault, he protests, it’s the alcohol, always the alcohol, that’s making him feel this way. “i’m not,” he states firmer, although salem really didn’t ask. his head dips lower, nose pushing at his jaw as his slurred words as hushed by his own lips pressing dainty kisses into the side of the stranger’s neck, and while he supposes he should figure out his name, the only thing that’s on his mind is pure erotic want. it’s a clear contrast, though, in his desires with how small and feather-like his kisses are and how needy and hungry his thoughts are -- mostly because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and him being drunk isn’t helping the scenario. “tell me, stranger, what makes you think you can come into my party, dressed up like that, sassing me like you’re the queen of england.” his words are biting, eat purse of his lips pressing into his pulse point as his tongue dips out to poke along his jaw, and fuck, does he taste heavenly.  he can’t help but to succumb a little to his desire in that moment, his teeth making an appearance to trace along his smooth skin, nibbling into his sweet spot as if to gauge more of a taste.

[punishmcnts-blog]

S A L E M.

he has a whole bottle of something all to himself and no one has been able to pry it from his dainty hands. salem hadn’t been the one to suggest the childish game but he’s all for participating in anything that allows him to show off what he’s best at – namely, making mostly straight boys fall in love with him. of course, should any of the assembled females be so lucky as to end up in the closet with him (the irony of that is not lost) he’s more than willing to give them a taste of what they’ll never ever have. perhaps that the bubbles sliding down his throat doing the talking, though. salem hasn’t been lucky enough to have the empty beer can point towards him; there’s a whole crew of them playing and all the shouting they’ve had to do to be heard over the blaring music has considerably slowed down the process. plus there’s the whole seven minutes part of the game that can’t be rushed, no matter how tipsy and rowdy the partygoers have gotten during the wait. there’s a parting of bodies as a newcomer stumbles (almost literally) upon their little game. salem’s almost annoyed – yet another person who’s not him to lower his chances of getting a little frisky sooner rather than later – but one glance at the glassy greens and delectable curls of the frat boy (because salem can tell right away) who wanted in and he’s changing his tune. “the rule is,” salem’s high reedy voice rings out clearer than most though, again, that could be the alcohol, “the new boy spins first.” making direct eye contact with his target – and, yes, once glance in and salem’s already keen – he tips his bottle to his lips, the entire process as he takes a swig absolutely obscene. the bottle is pulled back with a pop and he nods down to the can just as a messy haired brunette and her ginger conquest exit the closet reserved for ‘heaven’ purposes.

his gaze flickers up to the sound of the small voice, ears perking as he can’t make out just who it belongs to until his eyes settle onto him, forrest’s interest immediately piqued. he can’t help but to run a stony stare over his petite form, and while he’ll swear on his mother’s grave he’s not gay, he can’t help but to imagine what the other would feel like in his palms, if he’s smooth, what he tastes like -- probably wine and strawberries, he figures. he blames it on the alcohol that’s settling in his system. he hums soundly as his sweaty fingers grasp the jagged can, and really, can it get any more college than this? playing seven minutes in heaven with a fuckin’ beer can. if he wasn’t so wasted, he probably would have made a jab at it. in a matter of moments, the can is spinning, and while he knows that it’s entirely up to chance, his gaze settles on the petite stranger once more, almost making a promise with his eye contact, hoping, praying that it’ll land on him because fuck, it’s been too long since he’s had the secret pleasure of being with a man, and at this point, forrest is begging for it. he could almost cry as the can comes to a halt, his throat tightening as his eyes move from the picking device up to who it decided to land on, nearly spitting out his drink once he saw who indeed it was. he was blessed, fucking blessed -- dear god, he swore then he’d do anything for god after this because his fucking prayers have been answered. the stares, however, are becoming wide and curious to see what forrest’ll do because he’s not gay. he decides to “play it off”. a sound laugh falling from his lips as a sarcastic reply comes next, “looks like it’s you and i, bud.” he almost trips over his feet as he stands, extending his hand out to the other, and he prays that he’ll get the hint that yes, he’s excited, but no, he can’t show it. “all in good fun.”

[punishmcnts-blog]

bodies packed everywhere, the air clouded with sweat, a heavy feeling set over forrest as he pushed through the crowd, eyes lingering on him as he went. he was used to it, the stares, and even felt himself basking in it as he sauntered through the frat house. after pouring himself what seemed to be his fifth drink -- he wasn’t really counting anymore -- the curly haired boy’s hues scattered, looking for something to entertain him for a little bit; he was tired of talking to people who he entirely didn’t care about, so naturally, he had excused himself, and here he was now. finally, after what seemed like hours, his eyes settled in on what looked to be a group of about nine or ten individuals all spread out in a circle, resembling a group of kindergartners playing duck, duck, goose together. he pursed his lips in question, his feet carrying over to the cluster before settling down next to some blonde girl whose gaze lingered on his form for a few seconds before returning to whatever was going on. “what’s happenin’ here?” his low voice rumbled, hazed and slurred as alcohol wrapped around his words. tugging him deeper and deeper into his inebriated state. someone explained then -- loudly, mind you -- that they were playing seven minutes in heaven, causing forrest to snort and roll his eyes. well, it was juvenile at best, but it was better than fucking nothing, he supposed, straightening his back and folding his arms into his lap. “well then, consider me a new player.”

( @littlcminx )

[thestylesgifs]

[mercu-ry-deactivated20171018]

[lovestory]

[armie-hammer]

[dailyladylyrics]

Low-key, no pressure, just hang with me and my weather 

rose-coloured boy, paramore

[adventuringangel]

he is lust. he is sex in the back seat of a car.  he is hickies on the beach. he is groping in a movie theater.  he is ass grabbing in an empty aisle. he is dirty whispers on the phone. he is pressed thighs and lip biting.  he is moaned names. he is trembling and goosebumps.  he is breathlessness after a touch.  he is frustration and dark eyes.  he is insanity and clawing nails.  he is the pleas of more. he is the begs of not stopping. he is the fantasies that have your hand between your thighs, wishing it was his mouth instead.  he is sex. he is lust.  he is a drug.  one you’ll take with a scream of pleasure and a whimper for another.

the dangers of dating a boy who knows exactly what he’s doing.  (via tonkinwrites)

[halab1-deactivated20220711]

[animatedtext]

[timotaychalamet]

Closer (2004) dir. Mike Nichols