There was another punch to the wall as he gritted his teeth, glaring at the floor. "I know that you fucking give a shit. I fucking /know/ --

-- You try to keep me fucking safe and shit. But fuck...Stanford...Preston. Fucking even after the shit he had pulled. After all of the --

-- shit he had caused. After /all/ of those nights you came home fucking angry...How can you be friends with someone like that. --

-- Someone who clearly hurt you at a constant. someone who clearly gave no fucking shits....How could you fucking...How could you --

-- fucking...If I am self destructive, then so are you for even taking his shit.."

[ I tried to reply while on mobile. It failed. I will reply after work. ]

The way he moved, the way he arched and moaned. Stanley couldn't help but eat up each and every little things Rick did. He moved down on --

his body, lips moving away from the sensitive buds trailing down to his navel. He allowed his tongue to run over it as his hands worked --

-- to remove his tight pants, not bothering to remove it fully. He kept one of the pant legs hanging from his ankle. "Rick...Holy Moses." --

-- He kept his eyes on the squirming, moaning, /begging/ mess as he ran his tongue over the male's needy length. Right over the full --

-- length before moving to his entrance. Stanley ran the appendage over him before delving in nice and carefully.

He remained set right between his legs, his tongue working deeper and deeper into him as his thumbs softly ran over those beautiful --

-- piercings on his hips. Stanley looked up at him as he worked, purring lowly. The sight of the male. So beautiful, so damned attractive,--

-- The way his body arched and the way his voice seemed to shift in pitch as his tongue worked. Each little noise and gesture was going --

-- straight where is counted. He chuckled softly against him, pulling back from his entrance to run the wet appendage over his pierced --

-- girth once more, this time attending to each and every bar and stud. Strangely, he wasn't thinking about Ford. He was thinking far --

-- from him. He had only one person on his mind and it was the writhing mess in front of him. It was Rick. He ran his tongue over the --

-- underside of his shaft before going down on him, the warm muscle running over and around him.

Time for a gig at the coffee shop. This is going to be a difficult gig, but money is needed.