[ Marazhai will find Matt's cock just as slick and eager as the rest of him, moisture beading at the tip and smearing onto his thumb. For Matt's part, the touch makes him shudder and buck, gets his grip tightening around Marazhai's shaft.
As the stranger leans down towards him, the waterfall of his hair eclipses the rest of the chapel. The world collapses, becomes a thing made of teeth, friction of fingers, Matt's back to crushed petals. If this new world has a central core, it might be Marazhai's voice, the smoke and velvet in his ear that makes Matt's head tip towards him and his lashes flutter. Normally, this would be easy to agree to. Like virtually everything Matt's asked during sex, he'd bend happily to the arc of suggestion, yes cresting to yes until the inevitable dizzying crash.
Just now, though, he has an arc of his own he'd like to pursue. An itch of curiosity that won't let him rest until he's indulged it. ]
I would like that, [ Matt murmurs, each word pitched like a breathless caress towards the stranger's ear. Enunciated with an affection that condenses, syllable by syllable, to a soft, precise, ] Next time.
[ His fingers reach the tip of Marazhai's erection, finding slickness there to ease his way. Matt rubs small circles under the head of his cock, lets the barest edge of a fingernail scrape. Then his hand slides down, fingertips brushing idle patterns from piercing to piercing. ]
Let me get on top now, [ he suggests, ] and I'll make you feel good.
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As the stranger leans down towards him, the waterfall of his hair eclipses the rest of the chapel. The world collapses, becomes a thing made of teeth, friction of fingers, Matt's back to crushed petals. If this new world has a central core, it might be Marazhai's voice, the smoke and velvet in his ear that makes Matt's head tip towards him and his lashes flutter. Normally, this would be easy to agree to. Like virtually everything Matt's asked during sex, he'd bend happily to the arc of suggestion, yes cresting to yes until the inevitable dizzying crash.
Just now, though, he has an arc of his own he'd like to pursue. An itch of curiosity that won't let him rest until he's indulged it. ]
I would like that, [ Matt murmurs, each word pitched like a breathless caress towards the stranger's ear. Enunciated with an affection that condenses, syllable by syllable, to a soft, precise, ] Next time.
[ His fingers reach the tip of Marazhai's erection, finding slickness there to ease his way. Matt rubs small circles under the head of his cock, lets the barest edge of a fingernail scrape. Then his hand slides down, fingertips brushing idle patterns from piercing to piercing. ]
Let me get on top now, [ he suggests, ] and I'll make you feel good.