[ 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.
[ It's exactly what Wriothesley hopes for, a total letting go--Lyney's hands fisting his hair and hips rocking into his mouth until the finish hits and he can taste the rush of him, warm and full and bitter against his tongue, every spurt pooling thickly onto his tongue. He swallows all of it eagerly, sitting back on his haunches when it's over, eyes half-lidded and lips glistening. He catches the look Lyney gives him, and offers one in return--something bordering inquisitive, still hazy, still in a place rooted firmly in desire.
Should he say something? He wonders about that--he was never good at this part, never sure of what to do with himself in the aftermath. ]
...Everything alright?
[ It slants a little more lame than romantic, but he means it. Not just in the emotional sense; he hasn't forgotten the beating Lyney took today, the bandages over his ribs. All that moving around could've agitated something. ]
[ They didn't know if it was going to end right here. A slice of a blade, before and after this shared moment – where would they reside? Lyney's hands remain at the back of his head for as long as he can but if Wriothesley pulls back fully, Lyney drags his fingers back softly. ]
I'm alright... h-hah... just stole the air out of my lungs. [ And he smirks just a small, little teasing way. ] And stole something else from me.
[ Lyney sits up with a soft grunt, lowering his legs off of him fully but still. he finds the end of Wriothesley's tie and tugs it towards him. ]
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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. ]
no subject
Should he say something? He wonders about that--he was never good at this part, never sure of what to do with himself in the aftermath. ]
...Everything alright?
[ It slants a little more lame than romantic, but he means it. Not just in the emotional sense; he hasn't forgotten the beating Lyney took today, the bandages over his ribs. All that moving around could've agitated something. ]
no subject
I'm alright... h-hah... just stole the air out of my lungs. [ And he smirks just a small, little teasing way. ] And stole something else from me.
[ Lyney sits up with a soft grunt, lowering his legs off of him fully but still. he finds the end of Wriothesley's tie and tugs it towards him. ]
Any complaints about... what just happened?
[ He's at least honest enough to ask. Progress! ]