“Nice socks…”Craig found some coura

“Nice socks…”

Craig found some courage to smirk back now and ruffled his hair. “You know I wear them for you, Mr Sock Fetish…”

Peter’s face went comically shocked. “Who told you that?” He playfully gasped, pretending to be affronted, and Craig laughed.

“Socks and women…two things you’re good with.” Craig winked, referring to the clip of Fortysomething he’d been shown by Hugh last weekend, when they were talking about Benedict Cumberbatch.

Peter went back to smirking. “Never mind socks…we were on about sucking…or sicking, whatever you want to call it.” He joked. Craig’s tongue snuck out to tease his lower lip in thought, “Flip a coin…Heads…I do you…Tails you do me?” He put down the remote and fumbled for his jacket, hands suddenly as uncooperative as his mouth.
Peter tugged his trouser leg and he stopped. “Na…I think you’re a bit stressed after all that, think it’s only fair I do you first…” Peter offered, now climbing on to the bed to kneel over Craig.

Craig let himself relax into the bed abandoning the remote. He heard Peter take a deep breath as his hands started to sweat. The older Scot seemed unsure where to start and Craig felt the cold air of the past trickle in. Those drunk nights. The high nights. The thunder storms and weird motels. As Peter leant down they kept eye contact, steel blues and iron greys…a storm worth waiting for, as lips met halfway a surge of electric desire ran through Craig’s body.

Flashbacks of that sweating red head band leader that had him pinned hard to the rough wall of the hallway, his hands all over him and tugging at his belt, callous fingertips grazing his hips, teeth nipping his lips, and the way their hips would grind together trying to gain friction.

Craig could always tell what Peter was thinking back then. Just with a glance and those pools of molten silver would spill stories. But now. He was unsure. They told of too much. Held memories good and bad. Were locked onto someone else and saved for someone else. They were fragile. A fragility and fear that he felt guilty for.

Craig couldn’t fight the moan that eventually escaped his throat when the kiss deepened. It fuelled him to an almost instant response when Peter’s hand found itself inside his trousers. When he’d undone his belt he wasn’t sure. He was struggling to follow. He was lost at the border of memories, arousal, and nerves. Peter made him nervous. Always had. He was just so….he couldn’t pin him. So alien? He had been and still was. It was something that had him on his knees and gasping for it. Chasing it for the thrill like Crystal meth.

The feeling of Peter’s callous fingertips once more against his foreskin had sparks of nervous energy fizzing and a hand knotting itself into the bed’s covers. How long had it been? Too long. The one urge and want of feeling that he’d described as a venomous subconscious demand was alive and feeding off the aura they made together. Something his subconscious could only find…filthy.

Craig lifted his hips as Peter broke the kiss to pull down his suit trousers and boxers giving him full access to his arousal. A heat creeped to his cheeks, and not just because the room was heating up. He wasn’t 18 anymore, you shouldn’t get boners from hanging out in a hotel room with your best friend. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with, who was now Doctor Who.

Your best friend who had somehow gotten sexier, and more casually attractive as he’d gotten older but with no less vigour to his personality.

“Pete…” The name was grunted in want as the older Scot kissed his hip and then proceeded to lick at the underside of his cock, lapping at the sweet spot at the tip. “Oh…god”
Peter loved that sound. The rough Scottish rumble of Craig’s accent that mingled with the tang of the smoothed American purr in his voice. He’d missed it to the point where every syllable was pumping the blood down into his own groin.

Peter kissed slowly down the leng

結果 (中文) 1:

"好袜子......"克雷格 · 发现一些勇气来的假笑，回到现在，抚弄他的头发。"你知道我穿他们给你，先生袜子恋物癖......"彼得的脸变滑稽地震惊了。"谁告诉你的?"他开玩笑地喘息着，假装被冒犯别人，和克雷格笑了。"袜子和妇女...两件事，你是好的."克雷格 · 眨着眼睛，指的他上个周末，当他们在谈论本尼迪克特康伯巴奇证明了休的婚外恋的剪辑。彼得回到傻笑。"别在意袜子......我们在关于...吮吸或聚餐，无论你想叫它"。他开玩笑说。克雷格的舌头溜出来逗他下唇思想中的，"掷一枚硬币...元首...我做你...尾巴我吗?"他放下遥控器，摸索着他的夹克，手突然如不合作作为他的嘴。彼得拉了他的裤腿，他停了下来。"娜......我觉得你有点紧张后都认为它是只公平我做你第一次......"彼得一世提出，现在爬到床上，跪在克雷格。克雷格 · 让自己放松放弃远程上床。他听见彼得深呼吸一次，当他的手开始出汗。老苏格兰人似乎不知道该从哪里开始，克雷格感到冷的空气的过去鱼贯而入。那些夜晚喝醉了。高的夜晚。雷雨和怪异的汽车旅馆。当彼得倾斜下来他们保持目光接触，钢蓝色和铁灰色......值得等待一场风暴，嘴唇半途遇见电动欲望激增跑通过克雷格的身体。Flashbacks of that sweating red head band leader that had him pinned hard to the rough wall of the hallway, his hands all over him and tugging at his belt, callous fingertips grazing his hips, teeth nipping his lips, and the way their hips would grind together trying to gain friction.Craig could always tell what Peter was thinking back then. Just with a glance and those pools of molten silver would spill stories. But now. He was unsure. They told of too much. Held memories good and bad. Were locked onto someone else and saved for someone else. They were fragile. A fragility and fear that he felt guilty for.Craig couldn’t fight the moan that eventually escaped his throat when the kiss deepened. It fuelled him to an almost instant response when Peter’s hand found itself inside his trousers. When he’d undone his belt he wasn’t sure. He was struggling to follow. He was lost at the border of memories, arousal, and nerves. Peter made him nervous. Always had. He was just so….he couldn’t pin him. So alien? He had been and still was. It was something that had him on his knees and gasping for it. Chasing it for the thrill like Crystal meth.The feeling of Peter’s callous fingertips once more against his foreskin had sparks of nervous energy fizzing and a hand knotting itself into the bed’s covers. How long had it been? Too long. The one urge and want of feeling that he’d described as a venomous subconscious demand was alive and feeding off the aura they made together. Something his subconscious could only find…filthy.Craig lifted his hips as Peter broke the kiss to pull down his suit trousers and boxers giving him full access to his arousal. A heat creeped to his cheeks, and not just because the room was heating up. He wasn’t 18 anymore, you shouldn’t get boners from hanging out in a hotel room with your best friend. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with, who was now Doctor Who.Your best friend who had somehow gotten sexier, and more casually attractive as he’d gotten older but with no less vigour to his personality.“Pete…” The name was grunted in want as the older Scot kissed his hip and then proceeded to lick at the underside of his cock, lapping at the sweet spot at the tip. “Oh…god”Peter loved that sound. The rough Scottish rumble of Craig’s accent that mingled with the tang of the smoothed American purr in his voice. He’d missed it to the point where every syllable was pumping the blood down into his own groin.Peter kissed slowly down the leng

結果 (中文) 3:

“漂亮的袜子……”克雷格发现了一些勇气傻笑回来了，使他的头发。“你知道我穿你的袜子，先生迷恋…”彼得的脸莫名的震撼。“谁告诉你的？“他开玩笑地喘着气，假装生气，然后克雷格笑了。“袜子和女人…两件事你良好。”克雷格眨了眨眼，指他所40岁休米上周末的片段，当他们谈论本尼迪克。彼得回到傻笑。“不要紧的袜子…我们在吮吸…或恶心的，不管你怎么称呼它。”他开玩笑说。克雷格的舌头溜出来逗他的下嘴唇在想，“掷一枚硬币…头…我你…你做我的尾巴？“他放下遥控器，摸索着他的外套，手突然不合作，因为他的嘴。彼得拽着他的裤腿，他停下来。“那我想你有点紧张，认为这是我第一次做你的第一次……”皮特提出，现在爬到床上跪下克雷格。克雷格让自己放松到床上抛弃了遥控器。当他的手开始出汗时，他听到了他的深呼吸。老年人似乎不知道该从哪里开始，克雷格感到过去滴冷空气。那些醉夜。夜晚的夜晚。雷霆风暴和奇怪的旅馆。彼得弯到他们保持目光接触，钢蓝色和铁灰色的…一个值得等待的风暴，如嘴唇中途遇到浪涌电欲望贯穿了克雷格的身体。倒叙，出汗红头乐队的领导者，他把难的走廊粗糙壁面，他的手在他拽着他的皮带，无情的指尖放牧他的臀部，牙齿咬着嘴唇，和她们的臀部会磨在一起试图获得摩擦。克雷格总是会告诉皮特当时在想什么。只要瞥一眼，那些融化的银池就会泄露故事。但现在。他不确定。他们讲的太多了。举行的回忆好与坏。被锁在别人的身上，为别人而拯救。他们是脆弱的。他为他感到内疚的脆弱和恐惧。克雷格不能战斗的抱怨最终逃离了他的喉咙，吻了。这让他几乎立即反应，当皮特的手发现他的裤子里面。当他松开腰带时，他不确定。他正努力追随。他迷失在记忆、觉醒和神经的边界。他使他紧张。总是有。他就是这样……他不能把他钉。外星人？他一直在。这是他在膝盖上，喘着它。追逐它的快感像冰毒。感觉彼得无情的指尖再次与他的包皮过火花的能量状态和手工打结成床的覆盖。多久了？太长。一个冲动，想要的感觉，他描述为一个恶毒的潜意识的需求是活着，喂养了他们一起的光环。他的潜意识只能发现…。克雷格抬起臀部，彼得打破了吻拉下他的裤子和内裤给他充分利用他的觉醒。热爬到他的脸颊，不只是因为房间升温。他不是18岁了，你不应该在你最好的朋友的酒店房间挂到波纳。你最好的朋友，你在一个朋克乐队。你最好的朋友，你在一个朋克乐队，谁是现在的医生谁。你最好的朋友有了更性感，更随便吸引他长大了，但他的个性没有活力。“皮特…”这个名字是在想为老年人地亲吻他的臀部然后开始舔下面他的公鸡，研磨在尖端的甜蜜点。“哦……上帝”皮特喜欢那声音。克雷格的口音，夹杂着呜呜的声音平滑美国唐苏格兰隆隆。他错过了一个点，每一个音节都把血液泵入他自己的腹股沟。他慢慢地吻了下去