[ Fingers grasp him by one cheek, spreading him — to inspect, judging by the way his shadow recedes — and finding the glisten of slick that he mistakes for lubricant. At the end of the day, they're one and the same, but it leads him to wonder and he lets himself narrate it aloud as his metal thumb tugs perilously close to his rim: ]
Did you play with yourself, or were you keeping yourself ready for someone?
[ A great, powerful surge of possessiveness grips him. He's his prey. The very thought that someone, anyone else might have happened upon Wriothesley, could have taken him for themselves flattens his ears, makes his tail lash and lips peel back from his teeth. The tension on his hair slackens. He needs the other hand for this, a softer, warmer thumb pressing, massaging the greasy slick into the pink folds of his hole. His other hand ascends the bow of his back, painting a long, wide path of cool, gradually warming his steel on his skin. ]
You're wet as if you were, [ he continues, the blunt tip of his thumb pressing, testing his willingness to swallow it up, ] Tell me.
no subject
Did you play with yourself, or were you keeping yourself ready for someone?
[ A great, powerful surge of possessiveness grips him. He's his prey. The very thought that someone, anyone else might have happened upon Wriothesley, could have taken him for themselves flattens his ears, makes his tail lash and lips peel back from his teeth. The tension on his hair slackens. He needs the other hand for this, a softer, warmer thumb pressing, massaging the greasy slick into the pink folds of his hole. His other hand ascends the bow of his back, painting a long, wide path of cool, gradually warming his steel on his skin. ]
You're wet as if you were, [ he continues, the blunt tip of his thumb pressing, testing his willingness to swallow it up, ] Tell me.