Nothing wrong with mechanics. Blood pressure and nerve endings and secretions and the vacuum of pleasure with each withdraw, filling it again with a shift of muscle and bone that won't tire no matter how long Armand chooses to keep Daniel here, folded beneath him. Realises his gaze as wandered and reorients it towards golden irises and jetblack pupils, the shimmer of blood-tainted moisture on Daniel's brow.
This is better. Better than erotica, flowery prose, professions of love and passion. Dissection, revelation. No need to make something what it isn't when it is already good. At least, not today.
Armand's fangs pressing against his lip, visible when he curls it. No known reason to him why his never seem as wolfishly long as most others, even in the midst of a hunt rather than just love making, but they do the job. Probably hurts more, anyway.
Shifts his hands, or reaffirms them. A grasp at Daniel's hip, keeping him still. The one near his shoulder settles on it, bracketing him close. Like, let's test this theory, before moving—the slow, adjusting motions resolving into something real, and the initial earnest impact between them punching a sound of Armand even as he does it.
no subject
Nothing wrong with mechanics. Blood pressure and nerve endings and secretions and the vacuum of pleasure with each withdraw, filling it again with a shift of muscle and bone that won't tire no matter how long Armand chooses to keep Daniel here, folded beneath him. Realises his gaze as wandered and reorients it towards golden irises and jetblack pupils, the shimmer of blood-tainted moisture on Daniel's brow.
This is better. Better than erotica, flowery prose, professions of love and passion. Dissection, revelation. No need to make something what it isn't when it is already good. At least, not today.
Armand's fangs pressing against his lip, visible when he curls it. No known reason to him why his never seem as wolfishly long as most others, even in the midst of a hunt rather than just love making, but they do the job. Probably hurts more, anyway.
Shifts his hands, or reaffirms them. A grasp at Daniel's hip, keeping him still. The one near his shoulder settles on it, bracketing him close. Like, let's test this theory, before moving—the slow, adjusting motions resolving into something real, and the initial earnest impact between them punching a sound of Armand even as he does it.