( he has never heard wriothesley speaking like that before. it's lower, rougher, and the heat of his tongue makes him shudder with unbridled want, finally spilling from the last vestiges of self-control he had in place.
the warmth of both thighs wrapped around him is vivid, but too far away, absolutely too far; and with some degree of impatience, he shrugs off his heavy coat and divests himself of his waistcoat and jabot, setting them aside with as much care as his flustered, eager self can muster right now. the dress shirt is the next to go, as is his belt, answering wriothesley's longing with his own.
he steals another kiss, and one more, greedily memorizing the taste of him, the heat of his kiss, and the echo of his words. he is needed, he is wanted, and not just because of the oncoming moon that pulls upon his very nature as surely as the tides. neuvillette understands, and he allows himself to melt under his touch, his own hands coming to slide up under wriothesley's shirt to smooth over the fuzz and the heat of his skin. wriothesley burns, and neuvillette all but burns with him, grinding down on his hips with a low, shaky groan. )
And I came, because I felt the same. Wriothesley —
( he craves every touch, every scrap of affection he can siphon from wriothesley, and his lips trail, heated and wanting, from his lips to his chin and down one of the ragged scars just off the center of his throat. he nuzzles the scar tissue, fingers coming to loosen and undo the leather cords that twine around his neck. wriothesley has made his intentions clear, and neuvillette cannot find it in himself to deny him (and himself) any longer. )
Your shirt. ( he musters, when the cords fall away and his hands busy themselves with tugging said shirt off of his head. )
no subject
the warmth of both thighs wrapped around him is vivid, but too far away, absolutely too far; and with some degree of impatience, he shrugs off his heavy coat and divests himself of his waistcoat and jabot, setting them aside with as much care as his flustered, eager self can muster right now. the dress shirt is the next to go, as is his belt, answering wriothesley's longing with his own.
he steals another kiss, and one more, greedily memorizing the taste of him, the heat of his kiss, and the echo of his words. he is needed, he is wanted, and not just because of the oncoming moon that pulls upon his very nature as surely as the tides. neuvillette understands, and he allows himself to melt under his touch, his own hands coming to slide up under wriothesley's shirt to smooth over the fuzz and the heat of his skin. wriothesley burns, and neuvillette all but burns with him, grinding down on his hips with a low, shaky groan. )
And I came, because I felt the same. Wriothesley —
( he craves every touch, every scrap of affection he can siphon from wriothesley, and his lips trail, heated and wanting, from his lips to his chin and down one of the ragged scars just off the center of his throat. he nuzzles the scar tissue, fingers coming to loosen and undo the leather cords that twine around his neck. wriothesley has made his intentions clear, and neuvillette cannot find it in himself to deny him (and himself) any longer. )
Your shirt. ( he musters, when the cords fall away and his hands busy themselves with tugging said shirt off of his head. )