Hank lets his hand slip lower, curling over Alivian’s. He watches their reflection in the mirror: the way his fingers appear to move so slowly, almost exaggeratedly. It’s not him, he swears. It’s the weird mirror.
Thumb brushing over Alivian’s knuckles now. Squeezing his hand, making him squeeze himself. Which makes a pretty picture in the mirror, in-fucking-deed.
“No, baby.” Hank presses what he hopes is a somewhat comforting kiss to Alivian’s neck. “Don’t want it to hurt too much. Wouldn’t do that to you.”
With his other hand, Hank trails up Alivian’s back. Fingers tapping, running along his skin: the slopes and curves of his muscles, then against the fur along his shoulders. Warm. Soft.
no subject
“They would look real pretty on your dick.”
Hank lets his hand slip lower, curling over Alivian’s. He watches their reflection in the mirror: the way his fingers appear to move so slowly, almost exaggeratedly. It’s not him, he swears. It’s the weird mirror.
Thumb brushing over Alivian’s knuckles now. Squeezing his hand, making him squeeze himself. Which makes a pretty picture in the mirror, in-fucking-deed.
“No, baby.” Hank presses what he hopes is a somewhat comforting kiss to Alivian’s neck. “Don’t want it to hurt too much. Wouldn’t do that to you.”
With his other hand, Hank trails up Alivian’s back. Fingers tapping, running along his skin: the slopes and curves of his muscles, then against the fur along his shoulders. Warm. Soft.