I know the man who can put it back to rights. Mess my hair up, if that's what you want. Pull it free of the plait and take what you want.
[ quentin huffs the words against the soft skin of koby's inner thigh, letting his tongue trace wet little patterns there, and decidedly sucking a little mark into his skin, right where the thigh connects to the weeping cunt he has his sights set on. a little marker, as if on a map, to say quentin was here.
koby arches up into his mouth and he hums, a rumbling laugh against he sensitive skin of his folds, happy to see koby propped up and looking. oh yes, let him watch as he plays him into yet another blissful oblivion. and like he's instructed, he doesn't stop.
he presses the flat of his tongue between the warm slick heat, tasting himself salty and tangy, intertwined with the bite of koby's taste, a melody of things that taste like sea and earth and fire. koby's thighs open for him, pliant and sweet, and his arms hook beneath him, dragging him forward into his mouth so that his tongue and press, press, press, swirling little patterns over the sweet bundle of his clit. he tongues at him all the while, lapping like a man dying of heat, needing a reprieve in the desert.
his palms grip at his hips, leaving little half moons in the skin as he dips his head and sweeps his tongue from the eager, spread entrance he'd claimed earlier and back up to his clit, sucking softly - rinse, and repeat. ]
no subject
[ quentin huffs the words against the soft skin of koby's inner thigh, letting his tongue trace wet little patterns there, and decidedly sucking a little mark into his skin, right where the thigh connects to the weeping cunt he has his sights set on. a little marker, as if on a map, to say quentin was here.
koby arches up into his mouth and he hums, a rumbling laugh against he sensitive skin of his folds, happy to see koby propped up and looking. oh yes, let him watch as he plays him into yet another blissful oblivion. and like he's instructed, he doesn't stop.
he presses the flat of his tongue between the warm slick heat, tasting himself salty and tangy, intertwined with the bite of koby's taste, a melody of things that taste like sea and earth and fire. koby's thighs open for him, pliant and sweet, and his arms hook beneath him, dragging him forward into his mouth so that his tongue and press, press, press, swirling little patterns over the sweet bundle of his clit. he tongues at him all the while, lapping like a man dying of heat, needing a reprieve in the desert.
his palms grip at his hips, leaving little half moons in the skin as he dips his head and sweeps his tongue from the eager, spread entrance he'd claimed earlier and back up to his clit, sucking softly - rinse, and repeat. ]