[ There really are types of pain that Wrio likes. He's beginning to learn their outlines, like mapping out an unfamiliar shape in the dark. To see his pleasure writ large like this, in the flex of his back, in the sound that shakes from his lungs, the hungry scrabble of his hands... he needs to be closer, and one knee hikes up against the side of his thigh, nudging against one searching hand.
Wrio can feel him, the fat shape of a clothed cock leaning against the curve of one buttock, until he wiggles the fingers buried in him, provocatively. Patience frays as he rocks his fingers into him, leaning against him in a sway that offers the puppet no relief; he draws back his fingers, glistening, and the clatter of a fastening, the rustle of sturdy cloth soon sees the next warm shape to nudge at his hole is much broader than deft fingers.
And he doesn't even try to enter him. His cock skids against the slick, smearing it up the cleft of his ass, watching Wriothesley through the lowered veil of his dark lashes. ]
no subject
Wrio can feel him, the fat shape of a clothed cock leaning against the curve of one buttock, until he wiggles the fingers buried in him, provocatively. Patience frays as he rocks his fingers into him, leaning against him in a sway that offers the puppet no relief; he draws back his fingers, glistening, and the clatter of a fastening, the rustle of sturdy cloth soon sees the next warm shape to nudge at his hole is much broader than deft fingers.
And he doesn't even try to enter him. His cock skids against the slick, smearing it up the cleft of his ass, watching Wriothesley through the lowered veil of his dark lashes. ]
You always know just what to say.