Date: 2024-12-09 02:38 am (UTC)
philancer: (003)
From: [personal profile] philancer
[ Basch drags it out and it's like slow torture, the way the man lowers his body onto his cock. His body clenches tight around it, greedy, as he's stretched open, impaled on the man's length. It stretches him far more than the toy had, than his fingers had, and Sylvain whines at the feel of it. Too much and not enough all at the same time.

But finally, finally, he's buried to the hilt, Sylvain's body tight and clenching and shuddering around every thick inch of it, but by now, Sylvain is all but sobbing with his need. Fingers clinging to Basch's shoulders, the nails biting into his flesh as he grips him, trembling and shuddering. His cock is achingly hard, leaking against his stomach, and the need to move is blinding.

He's long since fallen into choked pleas and broken off begging, unable to drag in a full lungful of air. And even then, each delicious and broken noise Basch drags from his lips is occasionally lost into his own mouth, swallowed up by his hungry kisses.

When the hands finally release their grip on his hips, granting him freedom to move, for a moment, he stutters, as if he's forgotten what to do with that. but his body knows, his need taking over barely a heartbeat later, and then he's lifting up and rocking back down sharply, drawing up only to take him to the hilt once more with a sharp thrust of his hips that all but punches the breath from his lungs.

And should Basch let him, the pace he'd fall into would be just shy of frenzied, sharp and deep and needy, trying to take all of him he can, even as he keens and pleads for more. ]
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