[If there's a huff of laughter, it's well-stifled by the bed. He coaxes himself to relax so that Cy's fingers have no issue sliding loose, but there's still a hitch at the way knuckles rub at the rim of his hole. The bell is taken in hand, grip closing obediently, familiarly now, around the tiny shape. (He will never look at bells the same; fond childhood memory overwritten.)
Cy's proposition earns a look, head tilted to turn dark, mismatched eyes up — arousal reflected in that open expression, cheeks flushed from the heat of being pinned facedown to the bed.]
Yes, it's in the same place. [He licks his lips where they've been rubbed dry by the sheet.] And yes. I want you to put it in me.
[The exhilaration of trying something new is like a head rush.]
no subject
Cy's proposition earns a look, head tilted to turn dark, mismatched eyes up — arousal reflected in that open expression, cheeks flushed from the heat of being pinned facedown to the bed.]
Yes, it's in the same place. [He licks his lips where they've been rubbed dry by the sheet.] And yes. I want you to put it in me.
[The exhilaration of trying something new is like a head rush.]