[ They passed a threshold they can't easily package back up. They can't forget this exists. The way the other tastes, the aching they both have... they'd be fools. Failing fools to do so. Wriothesley nods and Lyney swoons like a songbird, a groan from the back of his throat he swears was from the pit of his stomach. That's where he felt the most arousal – an anxiousness to trust the man like this.
Lyney's hands settle at the back of Wriothesley's head, letting him work but still needing that connection. He hisses under his breath, lower half like a snake how it squirms upwards to meet his mouth. He doesn't care if there's a lost rhythm of if maybe he relaxes to let Wriothesley work.
It's a haze, smoke and mirrors but somehow... it's so clear how Lyney was starved for this.
He feels different than Lynette – different than anyone who dared touch him for whatever dubious reason he needed them to. With Wriothesley's hair sprouted between balled fists, Lyney finishes with a croaked whimper. Head thrown back, arching back off the chair. Spurt after spurt coats his tongue and throat – unable to hold back from his own need.
It was proof, pure proof of how badly he wanted to explore these feelings. His lover's name was a soft whimper, sharp like a blade before he collapses back into a fit of panting, one eye pried open to look at him... checking as if he half expected Wriothesley to be done with him already.
no subject
Lyney's hands settle at the back of Wriothesley's head, letting him work but still needing that connection. He hisses under his breath, lower half like a snake how it squirms upwards to meet his mouth. He doesn't care if there's a lost rhythm of if maybe he relaxes to let Wriothesley work.
It's a haze, smoke and mirrors but somehow... it's so clear how Lyney was starved for this.
He feels different than Lynette – different than anyone who dared touch him for whatever dubious reason he needed them to. With Wriothesley's hair sprouted between balled fists, Lyney finishes with a croaked whimper. Head thrown back, arching back off the chair. Spurt after spurt coats his tongue and throat – unable to hold back from his own need.
It was proof, pure proof of how badly he wanted to explore these feelings. His lover's name was a soft whimper, sharp like a blade before he collapses back into a fit of panting, one eye pried open to look at him... checking as if he half expected Wriothesley to be done with him already.
Some old habits are hard to kill. ]