[Oh, and what a shame it is that Wriothesley has never been called gallant. Lorenz hums warmly and presses another kiss into his hair before he turns his head to give him ample space to bite and mark skin. It feels good; it feels better than good, the sharp sting of teeth followed by the heat and pressure when he sucks the skin— Lorenz makes an appreciative noise that's eager enough to be a whine, encouraging and wanting more.

He runs his free hand down Wriothesley's back, dragging his perfectly manicured nails against warm skin, pressing in harder when he reaches his hip. The trails of his nails won't leave marks that last nearly as long as the bruises on his neck and throat, but for now it's just as well. Ultimately he tugs at the other man's hip, taking one small step back; shall they return to the loveseat? To tangle limbs and bodies together would be delightful, more and more—]

How repentant, [he murmurs, lightly teasing; yeah, he can tell Wriothesley isn't all that sorry about the marks. He grips his cock more firmly, stroking quick and even and slotting his thigh between Wriothesley's again for some additional surface to rock against. His own arousal is more than evident by now, breath hitching at what friction his cock gets but without pushing for any more. Not yet, anyway; it's the sweet, sweet delight of Wriothesley taking pleasure from him that's getting him going right this second. The sting of bruises, the heat of skin on skin, the ache of his arousal— yeah, this is really doing it for him.]

You'll certainly be able to admire your work for a number of days, I imagine. [He hasn't even seen it yet, but based on how it feels? Mmph.] Just as I will be reminded of you and your lovely mouth, in my private moments...