[ He visibly shuddered when he slid in, hoisting Silco's much smaller body with his thighs; and isn't that something? His face flushed, when he slid down the length of him, seated all the way down, pressing right against something that made all of him go taut. His breath came out in a hoarse, breathy little thing, barely contained, and then it repeated all over again, and again and again. How was it he felt so good? So right?
Later, he'll likely write this off as just what it was. The pocky (once he hears what it actually does). It can't possibly be anything else. It can't possibly be the way he feels inside of him, his rumble of his groans that escape from his lips, or the warmth of a large hand at the back of his neck.
It can't be that he already feels something stirring low in his belly, escalating with each and every pump of his cock in him, every time he slams into him, hitting all the right ways.
He gasps wetly, his eye closed, staring down at Vergilius with that still ever-open one, his back arched, his mouth half-open, each punch of him into him leaves him practically squirming on him, shifting as if he would vibrate out of his skin. ] Hahβ just β
[ like that. How terrible this is, that he likes it so much? That he already feels a fever-pitch, that he's going to come again so soon? ]
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[ He visibly shuddered when he slid in, hoisting Silco's much smaller body with his thighs; and isn't that something? His face flushed, when he slid down the length of him, seated all the way down, pressing right against something that made all of him go taut. His breath came out in a hoarse, breathy little thing, barely contained, and then it repeated all over again, and again and again. How was it he felt so good? So right?
Later, he'll likely write this off as just what it was. The pocky (once he hears what it actually does). It can't possibly be anything else. It can't possibly be the way he feels inside of him, his rumble of his groans that escape from his lips, or the warmth of a large hand at the back of his neck.
It can't be that he already feels something stirring low in his belly, escalating with each and every pump of his cock in him, every time he slams into him, hitting all the right ways.
He gasps wetly, his eye closed, staring down at Vergilius with that still ever-open one, his back arched, his mouth half-open, each punch of him into him leaves him practically squirming on him, shifting as if he would vibrate out of his skin. ] Hahβ just β
[ like that. How terrible this is, that he likes it so much? That he already feels a fever-pitch, that he's going to come again so soon? ]