He withdraws his hand with a shiver and a short, involuntary whine. Her compliment soaks into him, earnest and simple as it is, and his flush spreads over his chest and high across his cheeks. It is a grand feeling, to be adored, and so openly--his smile is coy (or perhaps honestly a bit shy, given all the feelings already hovering around them) as he takes the ring into his hand. He smears oil across the silver but it is no matter, it will be filthy soon enough.
"The taste of your mouth?" Jaskier says, conversationally, and looks at her lips as she leans near him. She is lovely in that harness, tied into leather and bound, but only to an item that will let her grant pleasure, that gives her power. It is a look that has him entranced and she isn't even clad in that pretty obsidian cock yet.
His abs strain to hold him up as he lifts his hand and tucks it into her hair. The kiss he draws her in for is--it is not chaste, and it is not hungry in the feral, hot way that kisses during trysts ought to be. He is already well on his way to loving her, his heart has devoted itself wholly and just waits for knowledge and time to fill up the space it has made for her. He kisses her like he loves her, because he does, he will even if they are not so close yet, not near to admissions like that or serious devotions.
He maneuvers the ring on him as his lips move, slow and soft, as he licks into her mouth and savors the taste of her. He ought to have set this on before he began rising, it pinches just so as he fits it in place--fortunately it sits snug once he manages it. Once he fills it will be immovable until deft fingers unhook it and grant him freedom.
Oh the thrill of that is wondrous.
When his fingers return to task, he whines against her lips and the muscles in his stomach begin to tremble. He should brace himself on his arm but that would mean removing his hand from her raven hair--that is not something he is willing to do, not just yet.
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"The taste of your mouth?" Jaskier says, conversationally, and looks at her lips as she leans near him. She is lovely in that harness, tied into leather and bound, but only to an item that will let her grant pleasure, that gives her power. It is a look that has him entranced and she isn't even clad in that pretty obsidian cock yet.
His abs strain to hold him up as he lifts his hand and tucks it into her hair. The kiss he draws her in for is--it is not chaste, and it is not hungry in the feral, hot way that kisses during trysts ought to be. He is already well on his way to loving her, his heart has devoted itself wholly and just waits for knowledge and time to fill up the space it has made for her. He kisses her like he loves her, because he does, he will even if they are not so close yet, not near to admissions like that or serious devotions.
He maneuvers the ring on him as his lips move, slow and soft, as he licks into her mouth and savors the taste of her. He ought to have set this on before he began rising, it pinches just so as he fits it in place--fortunately it sits snug once he manages it. Once he fills it will be immovable until deft fingers unhook it and grant him freedom.
Oh the thrill of that is wondrous.
When his fingers return to task, he whines against her lips and the muscles in his stomach begin to tremble. He should brace himself on his arm but that would mean removing his hand from her raven hair--that is not something he is willing to do, not just yet.