It's a fleeting thought gasped out in the last teetering seconds between mounting pressure and overwhelming rapture. Astarion's hips buck, every thrust forcing Leto into offering the most vulgar kind of kiss, thick heat wedging itself so deep that he swears he can feel the bulge in his throat. Fingers knot in his hair and keep him from straying, urging him into accepting every pumping thrust and goading rock, scolding him for needing air—
Until at last he gets his reward.
Leto moans as he feels Astarion come down his throat, the noise smothered and reduced to an endless purring vibration as pulse after pulse gushes down into him. The most vulgar treat gulped down sloppily, eagerly, as his own arousal falls by the wayside. His cock is stiff and dripping, but his grip on himself is loose, his own pleasure utterly secondary compared to the bliss of this: being used to the point of completion. Being fucked and rut into and bred like little more than slick hole, his worth proven by his ability to take.
He swallows in rhythmic obedience, his cheeks hollow as he suckles every last drop he can, until at last it slows. Astarion's cock draws back inch by slickened, pearl-streaked inch, emerging from his throat and slipping past his lips with a filthy pop. And with come coating his tongue and dripping down his chin, Leto surges up, crashing into Astarion and tipping his head to catch him in a filthy, demanding kiss. His tongue pushes forward insistently, one hand wrapping tight around the back of Astarion's neck as he claims his mouth fervently again and again. He's shaking with adrenaline and arousal both— and when he finally pulls back, come smeared over both their lips, there's nothing but dark, molten satisfaction in his voice as he rumbles:]
Well? Did I show you just how devoted I am to you? Or . . .
[His hand slips between them, his fingers wrapping around Astarion's slick length and pumping slowly, his voice sinfully sweet and his eyes dark as anything.]
no subject
It's a fleeting thought gasped out in the last teetering seconds between mounting pressure and overwhelming rapture. Astarion's hips buck, every thrust forcing Leto into offering the most vulgar kind of kiss, thick heat wedging itself so deep that he swears he can feel the bulge in his throat. Fingers knot in his hair and keep him from straying, urging him into accepting every pumping thrust and goading rock, scolding him for needing air—
Until at last he gets his reward.
Leto moans as he feels Astarion come down his throat, the noise smothered and reduced to an endless purring vibration as pulse after pulse gushes down into him. The most vulgar treat gulped down sloppily, eagerly, as his own arousal falls by the wayside. His cock is stiff and dripping, but his grip on himself is loose, his own pleasure utterly secondary compared to the bliss of this: being used to the point of completion. Being fucked and rut into and bred like little more than slick hole, his worth proven by his ability to take.
He swallows in rhythmic obedience, his cheeks hollow as he suckles every last drop he can, until at last it slows. Astarion's cock draws back inch by slickened, pearl-streaked inch, emerging from his throat and slipping past his lips with a filthy pop. And with come coating his tongue and dripping down his chin, Leto surges up, crashing into Astarion and tipping his head to catch him in a filthy, demanding kiss. His tongue pushes forward insistently, one hand wrapping tight around the back of Astarion's neck as he claims his mouth fervently again and again. He's shaking with adrenaline and arousal both— and when he finally pulls back, come smeared over both their lips, there's nothing but dark, molten satisfaction in his voice as he rumbles:]
Well? Did I show you just how devoted I am to you? Or . . .
[His hand slips between them, his fingers wrapping around Astarion's slick length and pumping slowly, his voice sinfully sweet and his eyes dark as anything.]
Do I need to try again?