[Wriothesley barks out laughter at that, a sound that quickly devolves into a wanton moan as Sylvain slips a hand passed the waistband of his clothes to stroke him. He happily ruts into Sylvain's hand with pleased sighs and sweet, little sounds in the back of his throat as he moves.]
Ah, very descriptive of you.
[He feels pleasure slowly build in his body. It's more like a gentle simmer than the hungry desperation he usually expects of sex. His hand slides up and down Sylvain's length as he rests his head under the man's chin.] Sweetheart.
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Ah, very descriptive of you.
[He feels pleasure slowly build in his body. It's more like a gentle simmer than the hungry desperation he usually expects of sex. His hand slides up and down Sylvain's length as he rests his head under the man's chin.] Sweetheart.