pov u let Wyll dump a fat wad down your craw & then he jerks u off
Your lover’s release hasn’t had the chance to slide down the back of your throat before you’re being dragged up by your lapels, the lost warmth of his cock immediately replaced by tender lips, bitten to the deep purple of a swollen summer cherry and twice as sweet.
You’ve no choice but to kiss him back. Wyll Ravengard moves to cradle your skull in his hands, bringing you deeper into his embrace.
You don’t need to breathe. You need Wyll Ravengard more than oxygen — and so when he pulls away, a thread tugs on your heart. But his hand, with a swordsman’s strength and a lover’s gentleness, comes around to swipe the bit of spend trailing its way down your chin and nudge it into your willing mouth.
He came too deep to taste initially; the flavor of salt is one you welcome with a moan, sucking his finger with a greed that coaxes out a smile. You hear it when he says — “I’m going to need that back, you know.”
You whine at it’s absence.
Hungry lips lean into his. The knuckles’ touch trailing down your abdomen is a question, giving you ample time to resist.
Any resistance would be against your nature. Deft fingers undo your laces and slip into your smallclothes.
Soft pads along your length are a jolt to your senses.
“Is this alright?” Your gentleman asks — and because he already knows your answer, he’s wrapped around you and is teasing the foreskin back over the head with a light tug. At a moment’s notice Wyll would pull away, happy to end his night with you on a note bringing you comfort.
You settle yourself into his lap.
You're vaguely aware of your head resting on his shoulder as that warm, calloused hand works you sure, but soft. Wider your legs spread as if on instinct, still confined to your trousers and straining at their seams. It doesn't matter. Wyll's lap is firm and his touch is divine. With an arm snaking around him, you feel completely and utterly held in every sense of the word.
Electric, you tumble over the edge.
He purrs— "there you are."
