[ Sylvain's lips press hot but somehow reassuring against the back of his neck as he works those fingers deeper again. ]

I would have known you were lying. Your body was already telling me the answer I needed to hear. If it was too much, you wouldn't be chasing my fingers, reluctant to release me. Those pretty moans of yours would hold a different note - but no, all they hold is pleasure. Hunger.

Mouths lie. [ A scrape of teeth now, the tease of a brief bite before he soothes over the spot with his tongue again. ] Bodies rarely do. They hold a language all their own.