[ His soft groan in return is lost in Wriothesley's mouth, shifting away only to let his tentacles past and continue their work. It means he can get his fingers sliding against the bare skin of the boxer's thighs, after all, and what a treat it is to be able to drag his nails over the back of them. ]
Could you blame them?
[ He peppers more light and sweet kisses against his lips while Wriothesley catches his breath, moving tentacles to slide up under the man's shirt and feel over his abs. ]
no subject
Could you blame them?
[ He peppers more light and sweet kisses against his lips while Wriothesley catches his breath, moving tentacles to slide up under the man's shirt and feel over his abs. ]
You're addictive.