[ All teeth. It riles him every time, cold breath caressing over his skin, eliciting goosebumps and nerves grazed over by newness, by a familiar sensation not feeling how his body remembers that it should. Kizuna inhales, the breadth of it highlighting the steeple of his ribs as he stretches into the roll of Wriothesley's tongue. Fingers still press at his lips, holding in a quiet whine. For Kizuna, the ambient desire is almost as potent as the physical one. ]
You're not greedy enough. [ He answers, intent to goad him on. A cant of his head highlights the bitemark he'd left, pressed raw and red over the one made by someone else. ] Not for everything I want to give you.
[ The way he can look at him, think about it, feel only him. ]
no subject
You're not greedy enough. [ He answers, intent to goad him on. A cant of his head highlights the bitemark he'd left, pressed raw and red over the one made by someone else. ] Not for everything I want to give you.
[ The way he can look at him, think about it, feel only him. ]