[ The noise he makes is almost a startled snicker; impishly childlike for someone who comes off, at best, as middle-aged. It skitters into the air as if nearly stifled after the initial surprise of Charlie's dry orgasm, delight coiling around him at this unexpected turn in their interlude. While he can't know for certain, the fact his partner doesn't exhibit any reaction whatsoever over it suggests this isn't a fluke. A crying shame. He'd been entertaining the thought of Charlie marking him with more than their comingling blood.
Seems that's all he's getting no matter how the slowed pace of curled fingers still gently milks the softening skin for a few lingering moments. So unless whatever abilities Charlie might have as something inhuman include giving him a lightning-fast refractory period, J's work here is done.
Already thinking about their next rendezvous, it's not difficult to imagine that leaving him swinging out in the cooling air won't do much to endear the man to him or encourage a future encore. Which only makes things more difficult later, once he's decided how to best put Charlie to use. So J's still-slick hand finally withdraws after tucking Charlie back into those gaudy striped swim briefs in a suspicious show of consideration.
J draws that fluid-splattered palm close to his mouth for the second time tonight before running his tongue from one corner to the other, diligently lapping up the mess of coagulating blood and spittle. All the while, three eyes settle to meet Charlie's, sweeping the evening's focus, and the vampire's, back on him as he claims the lion's share of their union. ]
Turns out you taste better so much better than you look. [ Sorry, Charlie. But the 1920's called and they want their slickback hairstyle returned.
Playful banter established with a smile more satisfied than it should be over what he's claimed, J swallows down the remnants of their encounter with a final pass of a wet tongue over his top lip. ]
Next time. But you'll have to up your ante and really blow my mind if you want to have me writhing beneath your hands. [ Catlike in more ways than the bare paws in powdery sand or the leonine tail flicking in excitement behind him, J moves with the same fluidity of something feline. Quick but effortless, he slips into Charlie's space to offer a soft press against the mouth covered by his. It could be a promise, an apology, or an invitation. J leaves the interpretation up to the man whose body is gradually finding itself freed from the serpentine grip of pale wings while the demon leans back just enough to continue his thought. ]
Needless to say, it'll take more than a quick handy to satisfy me. [ If his smirk or the quip gives the sense that he's teasing Charlie for getting off precisely that way, it ought to. A touch of ridicule always follows J's praise when he's feeling generous enough to keep it from being a solo act, where criticism isn't buffered by a lick of affection. ]
( cw: consuming fluids/blood )
Seems that's all he's getting no matter how the slowed pace of curled fingers still gently milks the softening skin for a few lingering moments. So unless whatever abilities Charlie might have as something inhuman include giving him a lightning-fast refractory period, J's work here is done.
Already thinking about their next rendezvous, it's not difficult to imagine that leaving him swinging out in the cooling air won't do much to endear the man to him or encourage a future encore. Which only makes things more difficult later, once he's decided how to best put Charlie to use. So J's still-slick hand finally withdraws after tucking Charlie back into those gaudy striped swim briefs in a suspicious show of consideration.
J draws that fluid-splattered palm close to his mouth for the second time tonight before running his tongue from one corner to the other, diligently lapping up the mess of coagulating blood and spittle. All the while, three eyes settle to meet Charlie's, sweeping the evening's focus, and the vampire's, back on him as he claims the lion's share of their union. ]
Turns out you taste better so much better than you look. [ Sorry, Charlie. But the 1920's called and they want their slickback hairstyle returned.
Playful banter established with a smile more satisfied than it should be over what he's claimed, J swallows down the remnants of their encounter with a final pass of a wet tongue over his top lip. ]
Next time. But you'll have to up your ante and really blow my mind if you want to have me writhing beneath your hands. [ Catlike in more ways than the bare paws in powdery sand or the leonine tail flicking in excitement behind him, J moves with the same fluidity of something feline. Quick but effortless, he slips into Charlie's space to offer a soft press against the mouth covered by his. It could be a promise, an apology, or an invitation. J leaves the interpretation up to the man whose body is gradually finding itself freed from the serpentine grip of pale wings while the demon leans back just enough to continue his thought. ]
Needless to say, it'll take more than a quick handy to satisfy me. [ If his smirk or the quip gives the sense that he's teasing Charlie for getting off precisely that way, it ought to. A touch of ridicule always follows J's praise when he's feeling generous enough to keep it from being a solo act, where criticism isn't buffered by a lick of affection. ]