[The width of three fingers is a burn, feeling the way his body clenches around that intrusion until it throbs in his blood — and while he ultimately controls the threshold of pain, he is also the sort of person innately tempered to test his own boundaries. Not too much. Not to a degree that would harm himself, or draw Cy's concern toward him, but enough to feel the glass-edged fragility of his own composure start to shiver as his cunt is stretched wide.
Three weeks on Cy's cock is a promise sure to leave him wrung-out, ruined, pleading for mercy. Perhaps it has happened before. Perhaps he's been fucked across tireless days by this man, just to satiate that appetite.]
Don't be too rough.
[A quiet murmur, and maybe Cy will figure it out — that he's asking less for himself than the life that he carries.
Hands slip up to the sheer fabric draped around his shoulders, and before he's even shed the covering, that answer is clear — there are damp spots left on silk where he's leaked, nipples pebbled with pale milk once he disrobes.]
no subject
Three weeks on Cy's cock is a promise sure to leave him wrung-out, ruined, pleading for mercy. Perhaps it has happened before. Perhaps he's been fucked across tireless days by this man, just to satiate that appetite.]
Don't be too rough.
[A quiet murmur, and maybe Cy will figure it out — that he's asking less for himself than the life that he carries.
Hands slip up to the sheer fabric draped around his shoulders, and before he's even shed the covering, that answer is clear — there are damp spots left on silk where he's leaked, nipples pebbled with pale milk once he disrobes.]