“It adds potency. Craving. Hunger.” Fingertips snaring that testing little jolt of movement before it gets too far, catching Fenris’ hips and dragging him back, back—
Down.
Along the fully rigid span of his cock, gliding him to that impossible point of pressure where their bodies wholly meet: Astarion pressed firmly (hot and hard and relentlessly present) as the stiffened crown of his cock rocks steadily against Fenris' inner walls, finally offering him an overwhelming burst of maddening sensation— vivid in the way it blooms in their nerves. In their muscles. In the roll of their bodies all the way to the tips of their fingers.
The tautness of Astarion's exhale.
There are no highs without lows, after all. No bliss without the aching spread of Fenris drawn down around his thickest point. It is, in the most vulgar sense, poetic.
no subject
A glorious thing, in fact.
“It adds potency. Craving. Hunger.” Fingertips snaring that testing little jolt of movement before it gets too far, catching Fenris’ hips and dragging him back, back—
Down.
Along the fully rigid span of his cock, gliding him to that impossible point of pressure where their bodies wholly meet: Astarion pressed firmly (hot and hard and relentlessly present) as the stiffened crown of his cock rocks steadily against Fenris' inner walls, finally offering him an overwhelming burst of maddening sensation— vivid in the way it blooms in their nerves. In their muscles. In the roll of their bodies all the way to the tips of their fingers.
The tautness of Astarion's exhale.
There are no highs without lows, after all. No bliss without the aching spread of Fenris drawn down around his thickest point. It is, in the most vulgar sense, poetic.
And he does so thrive within it.
“Better...darling?”