all that's left could be ghosts, but you'd haunt me most

[ovations]

Comments

[cuffit]

[ 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. ]

[ovations]

[ 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. ]

Any complaints about... what just happened?

[ He's at least honest enough to ask. Progress! ]