[ He is - the only thing holding him back now is the ring and the magic that winds through him, waiting on his master's permission for release - not that he's aware of that part, but his body is. Hanging there by a thread while the man plays him so expertly he can do nothing but obey.
Basch's words are the permission the magic was waiting for - what he was waiting for - and the keen that leaves his lips is wanton and needy and breathless. Muffled around the fingers still pressing against his tongue, Basch's name might slip free in between the whimpered pleas as his body rocks, then tenses, shuddering, as that pleasure crests within him. Spills as he arches into that touch, cock pulsing hotly as he jolts and shudders, swept away by the intensity of it. Especially when those lips and teeth leave even more redness in his flesh. And something in him thrills at being so claimed, so marked. ]
no subject
Basch's words are the permission the magic was waiting for - what he was waiting for - and the keen that leaves his lips is wanton and needy and breathless. Muffled around the fingers still pressing against his tongue, Basch's name might slip free in between the whimpered pleas as his body rocks, then tenses, shuddering, as that pleasure crests within him. Spills as he arches into that touch, cock pulsing hotly as he jolts and shudders, swept away by the intensity of it. Especially when those lips and teeth leave even more redness in his flesh. And something in him thrills at being so claimed, so marked. ]