His tongue ran slowly over his lips. Once. Faster. Twice. He let a choked breath escape his half-open mouth; he’s been holding it for ages. He pressed his fingers more against his throat, breathing out again, feeling his double pulse echo in his ears.
He was close, he knew. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and moaned softly as he pressed more, massaging his throat, pressing, but not as much as to hurt. He licked his lips again; they were parched from all his panting. He stuck his tongue out, trying vainly to lick something that wasn’t there. Oh, how much he wanted for someone, that someone, to suck his tongue... To provide a mouth he could penetrate with his tongue and lick…
He tightened his grip, harder now. He moaned again, a long rugged moan, knowing he was close, he couldn’t resist anymore; he quickened his pace. He hips jerked forward and he whined softly, mentally blushing – he disapproved of whining, sighing, panting. His tongue tasted the air again and he rubbed over his Adam’s apple desperately. Despite himself, he found the stamina to pause what he was doing to squeeze and tug at his balls gently. He moaned again, a deep moan, and wrapped his fingers around his length again.
He was close but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t perfect. He knew he could do it, like this, but it seemed wrong, even if he was trying to avoid the unavoidable. He bit his lip again, squeezing his throat, trying not to say it, he groaned and moaned, choking slightly. His face was contorted by anger and subtle desperation, he frowned, brought his bottom lip forward hopelessly and bared his teeth, his expression bearing pain and disappointment because he couldn’t be where he wanted to be.
He concentrated, grudgingly, his face a clouded and eventually resigned mask of anger, he tried to bite his lips, to punish them, but they disobeyed him, they parted and his treacherous tongue gently touched his front teeth.
“…Doctah…”, he whispered, breathed out and climaxed, his face frowning and pained but slowly calming now. He was utterly alone and maybe that was the worst thing for his pride. Or the best. He couldn’t think clearly at the particular moment, so he stayed there listening to his hearts as he panted softly.
He’d have to do something about this obsession sooner or later…