[Never mind. He starts, stops. Never mind, that's all he thinks as that tongue pries him open more and more with every slow, exploratory lick— like patience is a thing he can even start to dredge up underneath something so immense and all-encompassing as what he's stealing mouthfuls of— oh, he doesn't want to stop. Gnawing at his own flush lips in the drawback like a weak continuation of their game, he'd start to whine if he could manage it: instead he's looking up at Fenris from caught sheets like he's a half step away from begging for that offered cock.

Hells, maybe he is.

He's certainly rethinking the whole confessing for a good cause part, after all.]

I erm—

Hm.

[Hm and mhm slipped out through his nose.]

The calling you old man thing— about that.

Specifically the part about it not applying. Specifically specifically about what I told you that first night.

[Maker, his prick is hard. It aches. Is there a word for the inbetween between guilt and horny as all hells?

If so: currently dying from it.]

When I said I was almost a century old....I....[ahahah....] well I might have been exaggerating.

A little.

[Just a....teeny. Tiny. Very very very unmentionably small bit.]