Freddie seems adept at balancing pleasure and care, making sure not to press forward too much, to avoid hurting him. Marius appreciates it greatly, moving against and with that touch and the press of his tongue, delighting in the sensations of both. The idea of coming without being touched flashes through his thoughts; he sucks in a quiet breath, shuddering at the idea.
Marius hisses as Freddie twists his wrist and nibbles on one side of his ass, little groans escaping between the press of his lips. Sweat gathers all over his body; he aches with wanting.
He lets out a stuttering moan, neck arching, at the quirk of Freddie's finger inside him and the promise latent in his tone of voice. His hips jerk as he leans back, seeking more of that touch. "You're plenty good," he manages, voice raw and breathless. He presses back urgently against Freddie's finger, as if to emphasize the point. "Believe me."
"But yes, please," he says, and his voice cracks this time. He feels so tightly wound, so aroused; he feels intoxicated, by Freddie, by all of his touches, by his tongue. He turns his neck to watch Freddie over his shoulder, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
no subject
Marius hisses as Freddie twists his wrist and nibbles on one side of his ass, little groans escaping between the press of his lips. Sweat gathers all over his body; he aches with wanting.
He lets out a stuttering moan, neck arching, at the quirk of Freddie's finger inside him and the promise latent in his tone of voice. His hips jerk as he leans back, seeking more of that touch. "You're plenty good," he manages, voice raw and breathless. He presses back urgently against Freddie's finger, as if to emphasize the point. "Believe me."
"But yes, please," he says, and his voice cracks this time. He feels so tightly wound, so aroused; he feels intoxicated, by Freddie, by all of his touches, by his tongue. He turns his neck to watch Freddie over his shoulder, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.