[ He can't help but wipe away the sweat on his face with the palm of his hand. Lyney's huffy, pouty but so overwhelmed with pleasure he tries to bundle up those complicated emotions. He wants him, more than he thinks he would. It's attraction at first – but there's no use claiming it to only be based on physical. Even as Wriothesley works himself downwards, swallowing him whole – there's something about this that didn't feel fueled by mere lust.

That'll be a problem, won't it? Complicated, messy... and Lyney tries to maintain order by playing cards at the right time.

Wriothesley is the one who really won at cards because Lyney forfeits his for this pleasure. His tiny waist hitches up, Lyney's Adam's apple a bob that doesn't stop. Can he breathe? Can he speak? He's already getting close. ]

Fuck. I swear I'm usually not this fast – I'm going to – finish here. On your tongue – nod if that's pleasing. If not, l-let me finish here.

[ Lyney's thumb swipes over the cut of Wriothesley's jaw, papping it softly – even feeling himself from how good the section was. Groaning and sinking further in... Wriothesley was given a gift of power. Of figuring out the boy's own ticks and his own desires. ]