[ viktor, he murmurs with a sheepish apology; he didn't think that, ever, not like that— he does hope that really is only jesting, and it is viktor's coquettish giggling that reminds him to unwind.
his hand in his hair— he really did like it, the sliding digits between the flow of locks soothing jayce's tension as he takes note of the striking heat in his occupied hand. he swears he felt it pulse beneath his fingers, and that, that pleasure— does the same to him. perhaps he should adjust, so . . . his arm goes from the hip to under viktor's leg and hooking his hand around the upper limb, settling just above the outer side of his thigh.
jayce had been considering it, which— had been a rather funny story. he never thought to swallow another man's cock, it never crossed his mind during his life, to be frank. but viktor . . . this was not about cocks at this point and all about how he felt about viktor, and yes, how he'd like a taste of him the same way he'd like to taste and lather himself in his beloved's scent and sweat without it feeling obscene. it doesn't make him question himself, at least— not when he felt whole with him.
so jayce begins to nod a slowed answer as he heightens his observations, carressing his thumb against the shaft's undersurface and following the swollen dorsal vein to the head. he takes note of the color is skin takes there, if there are any moles present (cute), how viktor moves in reaction, and how it was that he'd liked this or that. jayce had cataloged a few sounds made when they heavily petted each other in the meadows, wondering if they would be of similar standing or completely different observations. ah— there is one way to find out. ]
—Guide me.
[ jayce, if anything, had conviction and enthusiastic spirit to try, despite the rattling of his heart between his ribs. he takes a breath in, keeps his eyes on viktor's, and rolls his tongue out, pressing it flat against the stiff base and gloss his way upward. he is deathly slow, both in attempting to be in tune with viktor's gaze and body language, and as much as he thinks . . . well, the slower and lighter the build up, the better. right?
jayce's approach is riddled with inexperience and a bit of uncertainty— not in his want, but in his sense of prowess. he wants to do a good job. he wants to please. and as he thinks these things, he assimilates something that makes his pupils engorge: viktor's taste. his musk so close to his nostrils. the combination allows jayce to lean his weight in with the squeeze of his fingers on viktor's leg, and the cradle of his cock in his palm.
no subject
his hand in his hair— he really did like it, the sliding digits between the flow of locks soothing jayce's tension as he takes note of the striking heat in his occupied hand. he swears he felt it pulse beneath his fingers, and that, that pleasure— does the same to him. perhaps he should adjust, so . . . his arm goes from the hip to under viktor's leg and hooking his hand around the upper limb, settling just above the outer side of his thigh.
jayce had been considering it, which— had been a rather funny story. he never thought to swallow another man's cock, it never crossed his mind during his life, to be frank. but viktor . . . this was not about cocks at this point and all about how he felt about viktor, and yes, how he'd like a taste of him the same way he'd like to taste and lather himself in his beloved's scent and sweat without it feeling obscene. it doesn't make him question himself, at least— not when he felt whole with him.
so jayce begins to nod a slowed answer as he heightens his observations, carressing his thumb against the shaft's undersurface and following the swollen dorsal vein to the head. he takes note of the color is skin takes there, if there are any moles present (cute), how viktor moves in reaction, and how it was that he'd liked this or that. jayce had cataloged a few sounds made when they heavily petted each other in the meadows, wondering if they would be of similar standing or completely different observations. ah— there is one way to find out. ]
—Guide me.
[ jayce, if anything, had conviction and enthusiastic spirit to try, despite the rattling of his heart between his ribs. he takes a breath in, keeps his eyes on viktor's, and rolls his tongue out, pressing it flat against the stiff base and gloss his way upward. he is deathly slow, both in attempting to be in tune with viktor's gaze and body language, and as much as he thinks . . . well, the slower and lighter the build up, the better. right?
jayce's approach is riddled with inexperience and a bit of uncertainty— not in his want, but in his sense of prowess. he wants to do a good job. he wants to please. and as he thinks these things, he assimilates something that makes his pupils engorge: viktor's taste. his musk so close to his nostrils. the combination allows jayce to lean his weight in with the squeeze of his fingers on viktor's leg, and the cradle of his cock in his palm.
he keeps his pretty eyes on course. ]