[ Tiny hands find comfort against the pressure of a beltline far too tight at Wriothesley's waist. They stuff downwards, padding at the top of underwear and deeper towards the warmth of a flat pelvis.
If this of all things were wrong... what was what came before? Of the life he had to live comfortably and ensure Lynette was safe? This was his choice, just as his choice was to pursue Lynette romantically – the risk lingering in the air like a thousand daggers hanging over their heads.
Fortunately, Lyney was a master at his arts, matters of the heart all but another tool for him.
He doesn't think, not when he's begging for more in this affair. Wriothesley chooses actions over words and that thumb was met with peppered kisses. Drags of a tongue not sharp with harsh words, but greeting with warmth and need all the same.
A murmur vibrates past Lyney's throat, soft as his hand presses down to fetch at the base of Wriothesley's cock. There's something to be said about how the struggle to touch him feels earned, more mischievous than simply undressing his slacks. Lyney takes Wriothesley's thumb to his mouth deeper, slow and soft sucks with the intensity of that commanding gaze – daring the Duke to look away.
Now more than ever it remains obvious: Lyney wants Wriothesley to keep those tired eyes on him, pettily... he wants to haunt the man's mind too. ]
no subject
If this of all things were wrong... what was what came before? Of the life he had to live comfortably and ensure Lynette was safe? This was his choice, just as his choice was to pursue Lynette romantically – the risk lingering in the air like a thousand daggers hanging over their heads.
Fortunately, Lyney was a master at his arts, matters of the heart all but another tool for him.
He doesn't think, not when he's begging for more in this affair. Wriothesley chooses actions over words and that thumb was met with peppered kisses. Drags of a tongue not sharp with harsh words, but greeting with warmth and need all the same.
A murmur vibrates past Lyney's throat, soft as his hand presses down to fetch at the base of Wriothesley's cock. There's something to be said about how the struggle to touch him feels earned, more mischievous than simply undressing his slacks. Lyney takes Wriothesley's thumb to his mouth deeper, slow and soft sucks with the intensity of that commanding gaze – daring the Duke to look away.
Now more than ever it remains obvious: Lyney wants Wriothesley to keep those tired eyes on him, pettily... he wants to haunt the man's mind too. ]