[Sylvain curls over him and it's another sweet little change. His pierced tongue finds its impatient pressure here and there, but for the most part this is the redhead's show now. He's left burning for every thrust, hanging on every word, hair shifting under the ghost of breath atop his head. How deeply satisfying it is, hearing Sylvain rasp taunting little words, feeling the indescribable sensation of each thrust into his waiting throat.
How badly? Leaking—yes, most certainly more than Sylvain might realise. Ah, but the praise. It washes over him with the same satisfaction as the admittance of his impending orgasm. He's close, he'll give it to him, because he's a good boy.
A moment of tension then, just before the blast of heat that pours down his throat. Olivine's moan reverberates against Sylvain's cock between swallows, throat shifting, squeezing, coaxing every drop he can get out of the other man. He's certainly not in any hurry to stop. It's a little hard to breathe, sure, but he wants to taste him.
That can't happen until Sylvain pulls back, Olivine's hips jolting as the tip slips free of his throat. Another swallow or two to relax his throat, and even once his cock is pulled free of the green haired man's mouth his tongue remains lolled out, wet and lazy, with just a strand of saliva (or is it spend? It's hard to tell) stretched thinly between the two. The remaining tears still shimmering in his eyes are blinked back, more or less.]
Ah... haah... mmn...
[There's almost a little laughter in the deep, breathy sounds he makes, tongue finally slithering into action in the effort of cleaning up some of the saliva and pre that had dripped from his lips. When he manages words, they may as well be a purr.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-01-09 10:02 pm (UTC)How badly? Leaking—yes, most certainly more than Sylvain might realise. Ah, but the praise. It washes over him with the same satisfaction as the admittance of his impending orgasm. He's close, he'll give it to him, because he's a good boy.
A moment of tension then, just before the blast of heat that pours down his throat. Olivine's moan reverberates against Sylvain's cock between swallows, throat shifting, squeezing, coaxing every drop he can get out of the other man. He's certainly not in any hurry to stop. It's a little hard to breathe, sure, but he wants to taste him.
That can't happen until Sylvain pulls back, Olivine's hips jolting as the tip slips free of his throat. Another swallow or two to relax his throat, and even once his cock is pulled free of the green haired man's mouth his tongue remains lolled out, wet and lazy, with just a strand of saliva (or is it spend? It's hard to tell) stretched thinly between the two. The remaining tears still shimmering in his eyes are blinked back, more or less.]
Ah... haah... mmn...
[There's almost a little laughter in the deep, breathy sounds he makes, tongue finally slithering into action in the effort of cleaning up some of the saliva and pre that had dripped from his lips. When he manages words, they may as well be a purr.]
... thank you for the meal.