@flamboycnt inquired – ❛ you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. ❜
Their hands press against cool stone– Ghirahim's fingers firmly but lovingly force Airin to stand in place. The blond can't hear the rushing waterfall beyond his husband's heated breath and sultry voice. He's heard it many times before– the spot they always ran off to when they thought Ghirahim's army wasn't paying attention; or when things got too heated in the spirit's tent.
A bygone era, yet even now as they innocently passed their old spot... it was like instinct for the both of them.
Airin's own nails clench against his stomach, and he feels the spirit press his palm deeper against his flesh in teasing retaliation. ' –fucking made for me. ' He can feel Ghirahim inside of him. With each slow, powerful antagonizing thrust he almost feels like a heartbeat. Yet the tension and heat grow nearly unbearable, but he doesn't dare thrust back against him.
The spirit's stance is keeping them from slipping on the weathered stone. Any form of retaliation might mean actual pain. An accidental clumisness that might end their little romp. Thus, Airin is completely at his mercy. He can only whimper with each calculated thrust– how deep is he willing to go?
Airin hisses into a deeper moan. The strain nearly mutes his purring, but his long lashes flutter open; watching a drip of sweat fall off of them. He squeezes their hands against the stone as it's the only rebuttal he can do. " ...Then fucking prove it. "