Greedily, Caleb gathers Yussa to him when his back bows, pressing harder against him, into him. His head can loll back supported by his shoulder now, and though his thrusts can't get so much length, he makes up for it in force, a more audible slap of skin against skin. But with Yussa arched against him, chest pushed out and up, this gives the echo more freedom. His cool mouth falls easily and eagerly to their lover's pert breasts when pulled there, and Caleb watches with curious arousal the way his own lips and tongue lap and suck at pebbled nipples, eyes sliding blissfully closed. It's an expression Yussa must have seen many times, but one Caleb has never been privy to himself. He didn't know that his enjoyment was so clearly written on his face.
Caleb can feel, too, that as his pace has had to change, the echo's does as well in balanced counterpoint. His alternate-self's thrusts are long and full, and the way his cock crowds insistently into Yussa's cunt, vying for the space in his body that Caleb already occupies, makes him briefly shut his eyes as well against the influx of blinding pleasure. Forced together within Yussa's body, the constant rub up and down against the underside of his cock is made ridiculously good.
His and his echo's intent overlaps so seamlessly that his commands aren't needed; his hand slides up Yussa's front to cup and squeeze a small breast, lifting it for his counterpart to suckle at. The echo's bracing grip on the softer, thicker flesh of Yussa's ass tightens, spreading his cheeks apart for Caleb to sink that fraction of an inch deeper.
Gods, why haven't they done this sooner? Yussa is overwhelmed enough to be scattered and tongue-tied, and Caleb is hanging onto only a thread of his own clarity. With the disjointed words and rocking hips of a man no longer at the reins of his own body, Yussa cycles his hips forward, back, seeking the contrasting warm-cold and the slick-hot press of both his lovers, and Caleb can't get enough of him in this state.
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Caleb can feel, too, that as his pace has had to change, the echo's does as well in balanced counterpoint. His alternate-self's thrusts are long and full, and the way his cock crowds insistently into Yussa's cunt, vying for the space in his body that Caleb already occupies, makes him briefly shut his eyes as well against the influx of blinding pleasure. Forced together within Yussa's body, the constant rub up and down against the underside of his cock is made ridiculously good.
His and his echo's intent overlaps so seamlessly that his commands aren't needed; his hand slides up Yussa's front to cup and squeeze a small breast, lifting it for his counterpart to suckle at. The echo's bracing grip on the softer, thicker flesh of Yussa's ass tightens, spreading his cheeks apart for Caleb to sink that fraction of an inch deeper.
Gods, why haven't they done this sooner? Yussa is overwhelmed enough to be scattered and tongue-tied, and Caleb is hanging onto only a thread of his own clarity. With the disjointed words and rocking hips of a man no longer at the reins of his own body, Yussa cycles his hips forward, back, seeking the contrasting warm-cold and the slick-hot press of both his lovers, and Caleb can't get enough of him in this state.