[Silco looks like a disaster. His usual prim proper appearance, now all askew. Hair tossled, face flushed, mouth gaping open with whines and moans and begging little utterances of his name. He burns it in his eyes as if he will never see it again. As if he can promise himself he will see it again.]
[He should see it again. He wants to see it again. His movements ragged, he finally feels that snap of something down below, and shoves himself forward like this is the last move he will ever make, his cock buried to its base, balls flux against the curve. He can barely hear his ragged, desperate moan coming from his own mouth as he spills over inside of him.]
[It lasts a good while, his moan now stuttering into little punctuated whines as he rides out his hot, choking stream - as if all this time with no activity between them was keeping it so repressed to the point of discomfort. But now, release has been found.]
[This is where he belongs.]
[He leans forward to place a kiss against the nape of his neck, indulgent to the point of sin.]
no subject
[He should see it again. He wants to see it again. His movements ragged, he finally feels that snap of something down below, and shoves himself forward like this is the last move he will ever make, his cock buried to its base, balls flux against the curve. He can barely hear his ragged, desperate moan coming from his own mouth as he spills over inside of him.]
[It lasts a good while, his moan now stuttering into little punctuated whines as he rides out his hot, choking stream - as if all this time with no activity between them was keeping it so repressed to the point of discomfort. But now, release has been found.]
[This is where he belongs.]
[He leans forward to place a kiss against the nape of his neck, indulgent to the point of sin.]