[His hips jerk slightly as Haurchefant redoubles his efforts, making noises as he works that sound...eminently pleasurable, which seems a touch strange — surely the act of giving could hardly be so delightful as that of receiving? — but fortunately, Aymeric is far too far gone to reflect on such things at the moment. Instead, he trembles and quakes, tempted to drive up into the warmth of Haurchefant's mouth and only just barely catching himself before he does, lest he risk choking him.
Instead, his legs splay mortifyingly wide, his cheeks gone red and his eyes glassy; the hand in Haurchefant's hair holds fast at first, but then learns the rhythm of his bobbing and takes its cue from it, pressing in and pulling off along with his own movements to give the illusion, at least, of being made to do it.]
no subject
Instead, his legs splay mortifyingly wide, his cheeks gone red and his eyes glassy; the hand in Haurchefant's hair holds fast at first, but then learns the rhythm of his bobbing and takes its cue from it, pressing in and pulling off along with his own movements to give the illusion, at least, of being made to do it.]
Haurchefant...
[He sounds hoarse, his voice ragged.]
Haurchefant, I don't want to spend without you...