They will have to get a bigger tent, there's no more room for doubt in Justin's mind. A mere 4' by 7' with almost 50'' of height is cozy and fine, definitely, and it'll make sure they don't end up drifting to one side or the other during the night. For a night, it's fine. But if they ever decide to do it again, size matters. Size matters a lot when it comes to tents, apparently. He just hadn't realized as much until he found himself with Tony's body laid out like a fresh, steaming buffet line beneath him, warm despite the cool air and more than willing to let Justin have his way with him. They'd done a great deal of things in a variety of places, but if they went camping again? Justin was going to need more room. It would need to be warmer. It would need a lot of things that they didn't actually have at the moment, and it was strange to be able to have anything he damn well wanted at almost the push of a button and yet, so far from humanity, he couldn't call up for a bigger tent. In the moment, he wanted it. But more than anything? He wanted to make sure that Tony's first camping trip was memorable, and not just for smores.
"I never said you couldn't move," was the first thing out of his mouth, breathed out after a chuckle just below his ear as he moved along his jaw without any sign of stopping. "If I didn't want you to move, I'd have to—I don't know, tie collection's at home. I'll figure it out later." It wasn't going to be entirely comfortable, Justin's next move. Justin would have to put himself in an oddball position, or Tony would redact that need by sitting up without being told to. After all, he hadn't told him to be still, and with that cleared up, well. "No fingers this time. I mean, unless that's like a must every single time, I don't know. You'd know more than I would. But. There's one easy way to get you lubed up, isn't there?"
He let that linger in the air for a few moments, mouth moving down his chest and stomach, hands moving to take a hold of his ass and push him up if he didn't do it himself. The easiest way wasn't spitting in his hand, really. There was a better, more effective, more pleasurable way to do it, he figured, and even though he'd had his cock in his mouth not too long ago, he found himself wanting it there again. If there was a drug in Justin's life, it had to be Tony, and he was totally fine with it.
So, angled oddly and slightly cramped, he trailed a line of kisses down his hip and wasted no more time in working up as much saliva as he could before he opened his mouth and relaxed his throat as best as he possibly could, taking him in fully and making no movement to back away. He couldn't see him well, and Tony knew as much. There was no room for contacts when it came to sleeping in the great outdoors (and, apparently, not room for much else if the tent they procured was so small), but he looked up towards his face anyway as he held him for as long as he could, tongue as loose against the underside of his dick as he possibly make it, intention to coat him in as much spit as he possibly could.
He realized that he was, quite literally, slobbering over Tony's cock in the same way he'd metaphorically slob over a rare dessert he hadn't had in ages and was particularly excited for. He also realized he didn't mind so much, if only because, well—it was Tony, the man he'd get on his knees for at a moment's notice. What use was there for trying to dredge up some feelings of shame when they weren't at all needed?
no subject
"I never said you couldn't move," was the first thing out of his mouth, breathed out after a chuckle just below his ear as he moved along his jaw without any sign of stopping. "If I didn't want you to move, I'd have to—I don't know, tie collection's at home. I'll figure it out later." It wasn't going to be entirely comfortable, Justin's next move. Justin would have to put himself in an oddball position, or Tony would redact that need by sitting up without being told to. After all, he hadn't told him to be still, and with that cleared up, well. "No fingers this time. I mean, unless that's like a must every single time, I don't know. You'd know more than I would. But. There's one easy way to get you lubed up, isn't there?"
He let that linger in the air for a few moments, mouth moving down his chest and stomach, hands moving to take a hold of his ass and push him up if he didn't do it himself. The easiest way wasn't spitting in his hand, really. There was a better, more effective, more pleasurable way to do it, he figured, and even though he'd had his cock in his mouth not too long ago, he found himself wanting it there again. If there was a drug in Justin's life, it had to be Tony, and he was totally fine with it.
So, angled oddly and slightly cramped, he trailed a line of kisses down his hip and wasted no more time in working up as much saliva as he could before he opened his mouth and relaxed his throat as best as he possibly could, taking him in fully and making no movement to back away. He couldn't see him well, and Tony knew as much. There was no room for contacts when it came to sleeping in the great outdoors (and, apparently, not room for much else if the tent they procured was so small), but he looked up towards his face anyway as he held him for as long as he could, tongue as loose against the underside of his dick as he possibly make it, intention to coat him in as much spit as he possibly could.
He realized that he was, quite literally, slobbering over Tony's cock in the same way he'd metaphorically slob over a rare dessert he hadn't had in ages and was particularly excited for. He also realized he didn't mind so much, if only because, well—it was Tony, the man he'd get on his knees for at a moment's notice. What use was there for trying to dredge up some feelings of shame when they weren't at all needed?