[the intention of it is palpable. Sylvain tugs his head forward and captures his lips, and there's a plain shiver that slides down his spine, trapped between the two of them.
it's nothing slow, questioning. the tease of his tongue isn't forcing, though it does seem demanding—and of course, Olivine needs no more than that. lips part to let that warm tongue slip against his own, fingers twitching and tensing at the brand new sensation from the piercing. oh, it was a good idea, he thinks, as he follows Sylvain's lead with warm enthusiasm.
too good, really, and there's a certain greed in the way the priest shifts to meet every inward press, hips rising to close more of the miniscule space between them. fingers lose their grip, find it again, this time with a little more purchase over shoulders to keep the redhead close.]
no subject
it's nothing slow, questioning. the tease of his tongue isn't forcing, though it does seem demanding—and of course, Olivine needs no more than that. lips part to let that warm tongue slip against his own, fingers twitching and tensing at the brand new sensation from the piercing. oh, it was a good idea, he thinks, as he follows Sylvain's lead with warm enthusiasm.
too good, really, and there's a certain greed in the way the priest shifts to meet every inward press, hips rising to close more of the miniscule space between them. fingers lose their grip, find it again, this time with a little more purchase over shoulders to keep the redhead close.]