| | | @gunsmiths, ⁽ morana ₎ 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 :
| ░ -> 𝓠. [ EDGE ] SENDER BRINGS RECEIVER TO THE EDGE OF PLEASURE, ONLY TO PULL AWAY WITH A KNOWING SMIRK.
dark alley is bathed in dim pink light from the neon sign above; distorted shadows cast against red brick canvas. wall's grainy texture digs &. scratches against the bare skin peeking through tank straps, though not any rougher than the grip wells has on morana's nape ...
anyone could walk by. anyone could drunkly stumble out from the club's back entrance &. upon them in a very compromising position. morana's hand breaching the splayed V of his jeans' open zipper &. delving into his wet core. dancing in nocturne had gotten him going, clearly — morana's fingers soaked within seconds. he's whimpering into their lips, abdomen flexing &. toes curling as fingers make quick work of him. morana's smell, their expert hand paying special attention to his clit, it's all pushing him closer to that edge he craves. ❛ ❛ fuuck, i'm – m'close, ❜ ❜ he groans, nearly unable to hold himself up against the bricks on such shaky legs. it's right there, he's chasing the end — &. then it's gone, falling flat on its face. eyes squinch shut as their hand withdraws, wells gasping lightly as the rising sensation simmers out, unfulfilled. ❛ ❛ you're ... pure evil, y'know that ? ❜ ❜ he accuses between breaths, nerves still throbbing.