bardische | (Reply)

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[ Whatever in Basch is still concerned eases every time Olivine moans, something more strangled and ashamed when the man squeezes his hand in reassurance. It's not unwelcome though.

They pull into the little niche. The fire crackles, and there's a high backed wooden chair, a loveseat whose back is not enough to shield them from view, and a thick rug. A drawered end table stands between the furniture.

He turns abruptly as they get inside, pulling the lead tight as his mouth roughly takes Olivine's, his other hand snaking down to the man's ass. That was how he liked to be treated in this dynamic. His mind is spinning though; even with the unknown magic running through him, this isn't a role he has experience with.

So it's entirely him when he asks gently ] How can I make this good for you?