[ Touches do so much for someone so young and starved. The canvassing rub of his fingers heat the boy up, but they never settle him. Lyney is moving fast, stealing his breath with each kiss.
Desperate as he was for answers, he’s scared of them. What if at the end of the kiss nothing is that? He is left dragging those balled fists instead to grab on the back of Wriothesley’s hair for naught? A shift turns into a grind and want was so clear on him now. Wriothesley gives in, holding him tenderly and Lyney knows it. Where the boy is rough, pawing and full of tension... Wriothesley braces him just to keep him there.
Their kiss is not like his and Lynette’s and part of him is thankful for it. He lets aggressions out, tongue wrestling with the Duke’s with that same competitive edge they’ve had. The one that felt fun and okay to have.
Why did Wriothesley have to care and why did Lyney have to bite back those moans with pitiful croaks of need? He doesn’t stop, not now. It distracts him, deep down. Stops him from asking those same fucking questions... the kind that would go against the very vows he took and the debt rooted in his soul. His Lynette, his sweet Lynette is alone – alive, but alone because of her. Father...
A million thoughts flutter in his mind, but with each second of their kiss, Father slips from his mind... The card game, the teasing jokes about tea, the banter... all little moments stolen from something that shouldn't be. Something growing... and Lyney had never had that. Not as a magician, not as an orphan, and not as a lover especially. The confusion makes him slow the kiss over time, but he doesn't stop.
A creature of heat seeks out the warmth any way he can. ]
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Desperate as he was for answers, he’s scared of them. What if at the end of the kiss nothing is that? He is left dragging those balled fists instead to grab on the back of Wriothesley’s hair for naught? A shift turns into a grind and want was so clear on him now. Wriothesley gives in, holding him tenderly and Lyney knows it. Where the boy is rough, pawing and full of tension... Wriothesley braces him just to keep him there.
Their kiss is not like his and Lynette’s and part of him is thankful for it. He lets aggressions out, tongue wrestling with the Duke’s with that same competitive edge they’ve had. The one that felt fun and okay to have.
Why did Wriothesley have to care and why did Lyney have to bite back those moans with pitiful croaks of need? He doesn’t stop, not now. It distracts him, deep down. Stops him from asking those same fucking questions... the kind that would go against the very vows he took and the debt rooted in his soul. His Lynette, his sweet Lynette is alone – alive, but alone because of her. Father...
A million thoughts flutter in his mind, but with each second of their kiss, Father slips from his mind... The card game, the teasing jokes about tea, the banter... all little moments stolen from something that shouldn't be. Something growing... and Lyney had never had that. Not as a magician, not as an orphan, and not as a lover especially. The confusion makes him slow the kiss over time, but he doesn't stop.
A creature of heat seeks out the warmth any way he can. ]