[There's an indulgent quality to Sherwood's kiss, it's deep and passionate, but there's something like restraint to it. He's well practiced enough to no overwhelmed, to not give too much. It's also frustrating, that there's something being held back.
Yet, he briefly leans to chase Fuuta's lips, when the young man separates from him. Sherwood rolls his own lips into his mouth to savor that taste lingering still, humming at the demand being gasped out at him. No more wasting time...]
As you wish. [There's already lubricant close by, so he can reapply that to his now bare hand. His hands are large given his height, but in a long, thin, bony way. Despite his gloves, they are not soft, calloused in the way craftsmen hands are, tough from work and age. Skilled, too, as he does not spare Fuuta lost time, sinking in two slick digits right to start. If he feels any brief pain from that being too much too quickly, it's fastly faded by... a strange, new sensation. Wetness that's more vapor than viscous lubricant and warmth that sinks beneath the skin, taking any aches with it. Sherwood can prepare him quicker with some healing touch than actually bothering to be patient and wait for the young man's body to adjust more naturally.
Before Fuuta can much register the depth and thickness of two fingers, Sherwood draws out to add a third. Truly, wasting not a bit of time now. That's what Fuuta wanted, right? He's absolutely not at all misunderstood.]
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Yet, he briefly leans to chase Fuuta's lips, when the young man separates from him. Sherwood rolls his own lips into his mouth to savor that taste lingering still, humming at the demand being gasped out at him. No more wasting time...]
As you wish. [There's already lubricant close by, so he can reapply that to his now bare hand. His hands are large given his height, but in a long, thin, bony way. Despite his gloves, they are not soft, calloused in the way craftsmen hands are, tough from work and age. Skilled, too, as he does not spare Fuuta lost time, sinking in two slick digits right to start. If he feels any brief pain from that being too much too quickly, it's fastly faded by... a strange, new sensation. Wetness that's more vapor than viscous lubricant and warmth that sinks beneath the skin, taking any aches with it. Sherwood can prepare him quicker with some healing touch than actually bothering to be patient and wait for the young man's body to adjust more naturally.
Before Fuuta can much register the depth and thickness of two fingers, Sherwood draws out to add a third. Truly, wasting not a bit of time now. That's what Fuuta wanted, right? He's absolutely not at all misunderstood.]