Basch fon Ronsenburg

[He's losing a lot more of his sense than Olivine wants to admit, every time Basch speaks. It's the growling, the surety of it... for a moment, he almost forgets how awkward Basch had been.]

Ah... haah... mnngh—!

[a pull of hair and Olivine squirms, every inch of him practically on fire. His lips part for soft, panting breaths, fondness in his pleasure-dulled gaze.]

My... haah... my apologies...

[heat pools deeper as his fingers stall, lost for a moment in the sensation—but then Basch bites down on his neck, harder still, and he could swoon if he wasn't still aware.]

Nngh! I do... I do. [panting, his hands lose their gentleness, pulling abruptly and impatiently at fabric until it's out of the way.] Please give me more. ♡

[He's already so hard under everything he's wearing, and as he finishes stripping away Basch's clothing he leans in a bit more.]

How much can I take off of mine...? I don't how which sounds best... there are so many options to show off for you... hehe. I can't pull off my shirt, but I'll do anything else you want me to...