[a witch given more than he asked for, a cup overflowing. Zephir's tongue is welcomed in and bitten all at once, his mouth given too much desperation, too much want. an addict reaching for another hit, August chases the high that he gives him. half of him -- most of him (maybe) -- doesn't want to feel like this. most of him hates how he shivers, how a mere kiss or touch makes his cock drip pre-come and leaves him breathless. he's been here before, lost himself here before. where is he, where is he, where is he.
he's here, covered, swallowed up by something else entirely and being watched. he can feel it, and he'd like to both eat and be eaten with how much heat courses through him.
the earth vibrates and the altar pulses, energy recycling itself in the stagnant air made wild with erratic magic. he knows the only way out is through, and he's not even looking before his hand wraps around Zephir's cock, stroking the length of him. come here, come here, come here, but he'll never say that.]
no subject
he's here, covered, swallowed up by something else entirely and being watched. he can feel it, and he'd like to both eat and be eaten with how much heat courses through him.
the earth vibrates and the altar pulses, energy recycling itself in the stagnant air made wild with erratic magic. he knows the only way out is through, and he's not even looking before his hand wraps around Zephir's cock, stroking the length of him. come here, come here, come here, but he'll never say that.]