[ His moan is louder, body contorting against that onslaught of feeling. He has to widen his stance, shift his weight on his arm so he doesn't crumple. It's so much, and some visceral, animal part of his brain wants to pull away to safety, even as the rest of him craves more of it. He's glad he's pinned. It's easier to relax into it like this. And -- it's bliss. With his head clear, with every step of this his choosing, he's...enjoying himself.
Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-01-11 03:42 am (UTC)Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]