[ Yes, yes β; he's taut as a live wire, liable to snap or break with even the barest of touches. Like this, Vergilius has him where he wants him, he can't stop him, and he can barely think straight, listening to every whine, gasp, and moan he ejects like they're a shared promise just for him. He's pressed up against him fully, and each hot thread pounds into him. It feels lewd, and dirty, but he gasps at each one, his cock tight, as far into him as he can go, thundering up and into him. Vergilius's hips are pressed as tight as they can go, like there's no separation left. Like they're a monster of fury and lust all in one.
Silco shudders, still taut and still sloppy and demolished beneath him. He's just as hungry, he's been waiting just as long, and maybe there's a sound that's somewhere between a grunt and a whine, because he's still pent up. He still feels it, how desperate he is to have him. Over and over again if he'd let him.
It's almost worse, it aches almost as much as the rest of him. The rest from use, but his cock still feels like it could burst at any moment, still unattended and weeping. His mouth opens; his lips are at his neck and his whole body seems to tremble with repressed...need, or desire, or something else like it. Since when had he become so... desperate for his attentions, or his touch? His look? ]
I β need β [ It's supposed to sound like an order. It's anything but an order.
He's so greedy, after all. He wants more of him, he wants to ride this hazy wave as long as he can. Is it just this moment, or is it all of it?
He wants him to stay β wants to keep him β would he? Even now? Was that what this was? Like sealing that promise they had half-shared in the van, talking around it like they were both still too cautious to breach that line in the sand? ]
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Silco shudders, still taut and still sloppy and demolished beneath him. He's just as hungry, he's been waiting just as long, and maybe there's a sound that's somewhere between a grunt and a whine, because he's still pent up. He still feels it, how desperate he is to have him. Over and over again if he'd let him.
It's almost worse, it aches almost as much as the rest of him. The rest from use, but his cock still feels like it could burst at any moment, still unattended and weeping. His mouth opens; his lips are at his neck and his whole body seems to tremble with repressed...need, or desire, or something else like it. Since when had he become so... desperate for his attentions, or his touch? His look? ]
I β need β [ It's supposed to sound like an order. It's anything but an order.
He's so greedy, after all. He wants more of him, he wants to ride this hazy wave as long as he can. Is it just this moment, or is it all of it?
He wants him to stay β wants to keep him β would he? Even now? Was that what this was? Like sealing that promise they had half-shared in the van, talking around it like they were both still too cautious to breach that line in the sand? ]