Date: 2024-07-11 02:09 am (UTC)
bardische: (255)
From: [personal profile] bardische
[ The truth is, it's easier to hear it than it was when he'd arrived. Easier still when he can pretend it isn't directed at him. But he's too addled to care much, instead simply comforted by the praise and warmth.

Except -- he groans in protest as Sylvain pulls away, unable to hold the other there. They'd both finished; Sylvain had not. His tongue was thick and lazy though, stumbling in his mouth and licking over swollen lips, even as his addled gaze looked up to Sylvain, leaning into the tenderness of those tears being wiped away. Just checking on him, surely?

The cock leaves his ass, and there's more soothing touch, and some traitorous part of him wants to just succumb to the sweetness of this, but it's not fair. He hasn't -- he should reciprocate -- be properly used --

Olivine's voice cuts through any coherent thought. Embarrassment and warmth wash through him in equal but conflicting measures. The other understands these tastes, at least; there's no shame there. But -- he doesn't think that's the role Olivine prefers to be in.

But it's too much thinking for his tired brain, and the next thing he knows, they're both extracting him from the pillory. His limbs are gelatin, and much to his dismay, he trembles and slumps against the familiar warmths, body aching and still very much stark naked.
]
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Basch fon Ronsenburg

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