“I will not keep you in it for long.” Solas saw only facts, now, and that Thranduil was one who dehumanized him was not something he wanted to have stick in Solas’ brain—or be true. Ever. “It is easier for me to reach when you are like this.”
He moved from the bed to stand at the foot of it. The pole between the posters at that end pressed against his legs as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Solas’ tailbone.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Over and over he would say it. Could Solas refuse? A horror swept into his mind—clients who would like as much—and he resolved to mention that later. He moved it to the side.
He nipped at Solas’ ass, toyed a little, and then spread his cheeks with one hand while the other loosely stroked Solas’ cock. Was anticipation something that could be experienced without emotions? A build to a greater delight? He doubted so, and settled for a lick from the back of his sack to his hole, listening carefully as he mimed what he had done with Meallan.
He made a quiet sound of acknowledgement. "If you threaten my well-being, I will stop you," he said, since that seemed to be something Thranduil would want to hear. It wasn't a lie; even if Thranduil didn't care at all, he would stop the other elf if he felt threatened. In some ways, with all emotions diminished, his sense of self-defense was elevated to the extreme.
With a quiet sigh, Solas let his eyes drift shut. The attention Thranduil paid to him made his body hot, his skin prickle. His breath came in shorter pants. Desire, purely physical, aroused him, and he grew harder from the play. A quiet groan slipped past his lips, his body arching against Thranduil's tongue.
"That is pleasant." The observation came in a murmur. Speaking loudly wasn't done in moments like this, he knew.
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He moved from the bed to stand at the foot of it. The pole between the posters at that end pressed against his legs as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Solas’ tailbone.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Over and over he would say it. Could Solas refuse? A horror swept into his mind—clients who would like as much—and he resolved to mention that later. He moved it to the side.
He nipped at Solas’ ass, toyed a little, and then spread his cheeks with one hand while the other loosely stroked Solas’ cock. Was anticipation something that could be experienced without emotions? A build to a greater delight? He doubted so, and settled for a lick from the back of his sack to his hole, listening carefully as he mimed what he had done with Meallan.
no subject
With a quiet sigh, Solas let his eyes drift shut. The attention Thranduil paid to him made his body hot, his skin prickle. His breath came in shorter pants. Desire, purely physical, aroused him, and he grew harder from the play. A quiet groan slipped past his lips, his body arching against Thranduil's tongue.
"That is pleasant." The observation came in a murmur. Speaking loudly wasn't done in moments like this, he knew.