He laughs softly before he bends down and bites - adoring but noticeable, an escalation from his usual gentle kisses - against Alecto's inner thighs, leaving the impress of teeth in the soft skin there before he sucks against him, as if intent on creating a more permanent mark, alternating between them while his fingers slide in and out of Alecto in time with Alecto's own movements, a tease and a promise of what was soon to come.
As it were.
"I can't wait to make a mess of you," he says, low in volume but filled with intensity and fervor, fingers making wet, lewd noises as they move in and out of Alecto's body. "I can't wait to fill you up with my come until I can feel how full you are of me when I touch you." He reaches up with his other hand, letting Alecto's legs rest on his shoulders, on either side of his head, resting it against his abdomen with a proprietary gesture. Joshua doesn't do this often - a part of him recoiled from the thought of treating Alecto so much like a possession, like something to be owned - but something about the moment feels right.
"Don't wake the children, dearest," he teases, and then both his hands are positioned over the marks on his inner thighs, so big that they can almost wrap around Alecto's lithe slimness. He drags his thumbs along the damp folds of skin, digging in very slightly so he can pull Alecto open and wet for a moment, bare for Joshua's pleasure, before he buries his face between his legs. He is intent, driven, utterly focused, tongue and fingers stroking and stretching, demanding to be gifted the physical evidence of Alecto's pleasure.
no subject
As it were.
"I can't wait to make a mess of you," he says, low in volume but filled with intensity and fervor, fingers making wet, lewd noises as they move in and out of Alecto's body. "I can't wait to fill you up with my come until I can feel how full you are of me when I touch you." He reaches up with his other hand, letting Alecto's legs rest on his shoulders, on either side of his head, resting it against his abdomen with a proprietary gesture. Joshua doesn't do this often - a part of him recoiled from the thought of treating Alecto so much like a possession, like something to be owned - but something about the moment feels right.
"Don't wake the children, dearest," he teases, and then both his hands are positioned over the marks on his inner thighs, so big that they can almost wrap around Alecto's lithe slimness. He drags his thumbs along the damp folds of skin, digging in very slightly so he can pull Alecto open and wet for a moment, bare for Joshua's pleasure, before he buries his face between his legs. He is intent, driven, utterly focused, tongue and fingers stroking and stretching, demanding to be gifted the physical evidence of Alecto's pleasure.