[A miniscule drip of fluid trails down the side of his nail to gloss over his cuticle. He'd been gentle, but his tiny capture was nothing of the sort. Fussing wildly enough to leave herself disheveled before pressing against his finger...
No matter the act, Kiritsubo is greedy.
This isn't a new discovery, but a reminder that tints Charlie's wicked grin with fondness. His tongue tucks into his cheek as he 'patiently' listens to her stuttered complaints, nodding along.
Slowly, as if he could escape her notice (he knows he cannot), his finger retreats from her cunt. When the last incensed syllable falls from her lips, the tiny fairy is left without anything to grind against.] You sure like accusin' me, don't you? [He sure likes being accused in these funny little games.]
I'll make it easier for you- [His tongue falls from his mouth, revealed as an inevitable threat that he lets hang between them. Charlie brings his eyes to hers, the gleam of intention obvious in how he holds the stare. He's not a patient man. She's not a patient woman. This is teasing at teasing; he could wait long enough to leave her whining in want.
But he won't.
His lids fall half-closed as he keens his head, orienting his cheek against her thigh. The first brush of his tongue against cunt is natural - incidental - when he nestles into position. The second is deliberate, tongue stretched down until strained before pulling back up slowly. He lingers, tip swirling against folds until that stark taste of arousal pricks his flesh. It won't fit inside, of course, but he nuzzles her entrance with it nonetheless.]
no subject
No matter the act, Kiritsubo is greedy.
This isn't a new discovery, but a reminder that tints Charlie's wicked grin with fondness. His tongue tucks into his cheek as he 'patiently' listens to her stuttered complaints, nodding along.
Slowly, as if he could escape her notice (he knows he cannot), his finger retreats from her cunt. When the last incensed syllable falls from her lips, the tiny fairy is left without anything to grind against.] You sure like accusin' me, don't you? [He sure likes being accused in these funny little games.]
I'll make it easier for you- [His tongue falls from his mouth, revealed as an inevitable threat that he lets hang between them. Charlie brings his eyes to hers, the gleam of intention obvious in how he holds the stare. He's not a patient man. She's not a patient woman. This is teasing at teasing; he could wait long enough to leave her whining in want.
But he won't.
His lids fall half-closed as he keens his head, orienting his cheek against her thigh. The first brush of his tongue against cunt is natural - incidental - when he nestles into position. The second is deliberate, tongue stretched down until strained before pulling back up slowly. He lingers, tip swirling against folds until that stark taste of arousal pricks his flesh. It won't fit inside, of course, but he nuzzles her entrance with it nonetheless.]