[ Matt watches Parisa's tongue dart out, feels it laving electric at the wound. Pain flickers from the spot as she licks, horrible and intimate; he watches raptly as crumbs disappear into her mouth. Barely breathing, but still managing to make stuck little moans. God, the mess she's making of him is so much hotter than it has any right to be.
Parisa pulls his boxers down, and Matt sighs as his cock springs free. Her kisses, her mouthing, make him moan, his heart jumping into his throat as he wonders is she gonna ...?
She could. He'd let her. He'd feed Parisa the most precious parts of him and melt with gratitude while he did it. His cock twitches against her lips. Matt's hand scrubs from Parisa's cheek to thread fingers through her hair. His free hand brushes down the column of her throat to her collar bones, fingers greedy to explore her.
At the question, he shoots her an unsteady smile.
What will you do if I don't? The words burn on his tongue with how bad he wants to ask. But disobedience feels like a poor reward for all Parisa's done so far. What she's shown him, what she's managed to transubstantiate. Mistress of the funereal chamber, the joyful, the beloved. ]
I wanna behave for you. [ Matt nods in a slight, reflexive jerk. ] I want to--
[ Find the gleaming thread of her desires and follow them to their source. Become the spear that'll pierce his side. Matt wants to know what she wants, then watch her get it. ]
no subject
Parisa pulls his boxers down, and Matt sighs as his cock springs free. Her kisses, her mouthing, make him moan, his heart jumping into his throat as he wonders is she gonna ...?
She could. He'd let her. He'd feed Parisa the most precious parts of him and melt with gratitude while he did it. His cock twitches against her lips. Matt's hand scrubs from Parisa's cheek to thread fingers through her hair. His free hand brushes down the column of her throat to her collar bones, fingers greedy to explore her.
At the question, he shoots her an unsteady smile.
What will you do if I don't? The words burn on his tongue with how bad he wants to ask. But disobedience feels like a poor reward for all Parisa's done so far. What she's shown him, what she's managed to transubstantiate. Mistress of the funereal chamber, the joyful, the beloved. ]
I wanna behave for you. [ Matt nods in a slight, reflexive jerk. ] I want to--
[ Find the gleaming thread of her desires and follow them to their source. Become the spear that'll pierce his side. Matt wants to know what she wants, then watch her get it. ]
I wanna see what you do.