creepypasta crack headcanon: the reason Slenderman has no face and his head is white is because that's all caked up cocaine that is stuck on his head he has a normal human head but there's so much cocaine stuck on it that it looks like a white head with no face which means his real name is not the Slenderman it's the cocaine man
mdni ! afab will graham, riding, choking, hair-pulling, spanking, overstimulation
his hand found your throat easily, wantingly. it was will graham's way, always, to keep his violence at the ready. as much as he was your rude southern gentleman when you were sipping cheap whiskey on the porch, he had teeth that craved to tear at flesh and gnaw bone; especially now, sat on your thighs with his shirt open and falling off of his otherwise bare body, rising and falling slowly enough to match his breathing. he was a fisherman, willing to wait for a snap, even with gasping moans being drawn from him near unwittingly with each stab of your dick inside him.
nails, trimmed short, raked up his back and fisted into the hair at the back of his neck. curls tangled across your fingers. a ragged grin slashed its way across will's face and he grunted, moving faster and clenching around your cock. he fell forward, movements devolving into frantic humping in an attempt to reach his climax. his own nails dug into the sides of your throat and seemed to try to draw blood.
you kept one dextrous hand playing with his clit, thumbing over it in easy, fluid, motions even as pain spiked through your system. your other hand fell hard from his hair to hit hard against his ass cheeks, bare and bouncing as he rode you, suddenly desperate. will cried out and ground down further against your other palm at the slap, squeezing deliciously around your cock; the tight, deep heat fluttering before pressing hard. his legs, coarse with hair, pressed hard into your outer thighs and he grovelled in your ear, 'I'm going to cum, keep going, fuck —'
his whole body tensed up and he whined, loud and clear even over the suddenly unsteady rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest. his hole clamped around you and his teeth dug into your shoulder to muffle his cries as he came with a rush of slick.
the body weight on top of yours went slack and will turned into a mess of tears as you continued to use him, lifting his hips to keep him moving even after he stopped. the patient fisherman was selfish after he caught his fill, but you wanted your take as well. his hand around your throat tightened as you pushed his peak further and further past its edge. it was the lightheadedness paired with the clamping of his walls around you that finally pushed you over your own edge and will pawed at you as you came inside him, pumping him full and holding him down against you.
he panted, that same knife slash smile back again, shameless with his head tilted back, still panting softly, 'I'm gonna start to think you like it if you keep letting me choke you like that.'
Keith would say that he considers himself open-minded toward sex.
He was curious enough to try anything at least once, often finding himself happy to do things for the few partners he's had that didn't do anything for himself, while remaining within his comfort level. After a handful of gradual sessions on both ends with Sweetjane, he could happily say that with her, at the least, he'd been dominated and had dominated. A somewhat equal share now between the two of them, and he was quite content with the continued exploration of each other.
And now, Sweetjane has suggested something new: the possibility of her bringing a strap into their... activities. It made his mouth go dry.
The conversation, or he should say conversations, that followed had been thorough. He was sure by now that she was careful with his comfort and needs. He just needed to be certain with whether she wanted to be the one to fuck him, or if he'd be the one fucking the toy. Sweetjane was surprised that he wanted her to choose the toy, that he wanted it to be a surprise. He was certain she would know what he could handle.
They had decided on her apartment in Goodneighbor, where she keeps most of her stash anyway, such as the leather straps of the harness on lying on the bed and the chosen toy in her hand. The General watches as she sheds her last piece of clothing to join him, settling between his thighs. Sweetjane had selected a glass dildo that had subtle ridges and a fat head. It's a little thicker than he expected for what he thought was the starter to a set. He briefly wonders how big the largest one she has is, and his cheeks start to color even more.
"Is this one okay? I got more ya know." Sweetjane asks resting her hands on his knees and inching upwards, causing Keith to shift on the bed.
"Yeah, it's— it's fine. You're gonna have to, uh, prepare me for it— I think. You're the uh, one more experienced in this type of situation." He fiddles with the cold bottle of lubricant lying against his hip. Sweetjane's grey eyes shimmer silver in the light of her bedroom before darkening into a look he's familiar with. It never fails to quicken the beat of his heart.
"Of course whateva ya say Général. If ya were like Vi, I'd love fer ya ta put on a show fer me. But right now, I just want ya comfortable beneath me." She teases, leaning over and sliding her long hand over his cheek. She cradles his face before pressing a kiss to his lips, leaning him back on the bed. Keith sighs softly as her weight settles across his chest. It's comforting, yet the fire sizzling low in his abdomen only burns hotter.
Her kiss starts to migrate lower, lower, until she's scrapping her teeth along his throat. She trails her long nails lightly over his ribs, up to his nipples, where she gingerly, just barely scrape over his skin. She seems to ignore how he arches his spine into the touch, his shaky exhalation. Sitting up for a moment, Sweetjane smooths her hands across his chest and stomach. Keith opens his eyes, realizing that they had fallen shut in the sensation.
"Not gonna do anythin' too intense tonight, since it's de first time." She reassures him, bringing her hands to rub over his sides. Keith reaches out to lace their fingers together before tipping up to give her a quick gentle kiss.
"You don't need to worry, I trust you to know what to do." They both laugh quietly. His words are all that she needs to be assured that he's okay with this. His heart softens at her gaze, the feeling of her hands on his biceps trying to be comforting but in reality a weak attempt at subtly feeling him up.
"Dat's all I need ta know." She leans in for another kiss. It's gentle and surprisingly chaste. As soon as he makes up his mind to part his lips, she's moved on to his neck. Keith settles into it, feeling himself sinking into her mattress, relaxing as his hands drift over her body. He remains still, his feet drawing higher on the bed and bending his knees. He loves when Sweetjane marks him up like she's doing now. With hickeys and bites, scratches down his back and over his shoulders— some of them crisscrossing over the scars along his chest. He'll have to return the favor when it's her turn. His hands start to wander over her body. A groan was pulled from his lips as she sucks along his jugular. She pauses for a moment as soon as the sound leaves his lips, before moving on to his collarbone. The General restrains a sound of disappointment; instead busying his hands by sliding over the expanse of her back until he could take generous handfuls of her ass.
Sweetjane trails her scarred lips over the tender junction between his shoulder and neck. She plants soft kisses as she lets his fingers slide over her inner thighs before sinking her teeth into him. The bit is harsh and rude, enough to make Keith gasp and dig his nails into the backs of her thighs. Laughing quietly, Sweetjane kisses over the bite, dragging her tongue across it as she rocks her hips against his abdomen. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."
The ache across his chest feels amazing. The feeling of her pressing her hips against him is nearly enough for him to derail their plans. Oh, how he wants to drag her hips to his face and feel her incredible thighs around his head.
"I'm sure you couldn't." He says as he tilts his head to kiss the crown of her head. She just laughs again and leans back as he feels over her thighs, tracing over her right leg before he skitters his fingers over her stomach. He's careful to avoid the scar just below her navel, experience has taught him that she hates being touched there. She allows him to explore as she leans over to grab the vial of lube off her bedside table. She must be busy because it's nearly empty, Keith notes before he's distracted by the sight of her and the ease and comfort in her motions. He could feel the heat of her arousal on his stomach, so close. He wants to derail, if only for a moment to kiss her. She must have read his mind because she pressed a hand on his chest, curling her fingers in his body hair.
"I'm takin care of ya dis time. Afta, if you want, ya cain do whatever ya want ta me. Okay, Général?"
He was more than okay with it. As badly as he wanted to feel her taste on his tongue and heat around his cock, his curiosity about letting Sweetjane fuck him instead of the other way around ran deep. Keith swallows thickly when he's reminded of the harness still lying next to him on the bed; he honestly can wait to see her between his legs, fucking him into obliteration.
"Sounds perfect. While I'll keep my hands to myself, I can't guarantee my eyes won't wander."
"Oh, I don't doubt they will," she responds placing the vial next to the harness still waiting to be used on the bed. Keith's slowly becoming accustomed to being a pillow prince. It's easier to wait when he knows what's coming rather than a surprise that makes him squirm. The bruises she's sucking along his thighs aren't helping in that matter either, worsened by the feeling of her soft fingers brushing along the backs of his legs.
If only she allowed him to bury his hand in her curls to guide her head. He desperately wants to pull her hair whenever she bites his thighs. She's just barely sinking her teeth in, enough to sting but not enough to actually draw any blood. Sweetjane lowers herself, lying flat on the bed. She presses her palms on Keith's sensitive, quivering thighs; keeping his legs spread as she avoids his cock entirely, ignoring his hole for the moment to focus on his other leg.
"Didn't know you were gonna be a tease about it. Thought you wanted to give—"
"I am givin, Général. Just wanted ta have some fun while I prep ya is all."
Her fingertips finally trail over his heavy cock, smearing the precum enough to dampen her hand while she strokes him from tip to base. Her hand is wrapped around him a little tighter than usual, just how he likes. She dips her head lower, drawing the tip of her pointed tongue along his sack, rolling it over his balls, curling and wrapping around him.
Keith feels like he was going to die right there on her bed.
He throws an arm to cover his own scarred face, trailing his free hand down, down until his fingers thread themselves into her hair. He doesn't want to risk pulling, not with her sharp teeth so near his manhood and other sensitive parts. Instead, he only brushes her hair away from her face and cradles the back of her head. Her strokes are deliberately measured, slow, steady, while she starts to carefully work him into her mouth. She sucks, but only just so. She's keeping to her own pace, no matter how he reflexively curls his fingers into her scalp.
God.
Her mouth moves away from his balls, pressing a brief kiss over one of the bites on his thigh. She releases his cock, her own breathing is hard as she searches his face. Keith removes his arm from over his eyes stretching to grip the headboard while the hand in her hair slides over to his cock. She watches him, grey lust filled eyes tracking every movement of his hand as he brushes past the neat patch of pubic hair, down to lightly cup his balls.
"Think ya'd take my fingers?" She asks, reaching for the to vial. Keith nods, watching the way her thighs shift and her hips move. He draws his heavy limbs up so he can adjust himself against the pillows, one under his hips and a small stack behind his head so he could see everything.
"Yes." He breathes, observing the way she uncaps the vial and tips the clear contents into her palm. He briefly wonders how the substance is made out here in the wastes before putting it in the back of his mind. Maybe he'd ask her about it later.
"I'm gonna be slow and gentle with ya, Keith, considerin' it's yer first time and all." She promises, leaning down to press another kiss against his knee.
The heat in his gut is becoming nigh unbearable. This wouldn't be the first time she's fingered him, however she's never done more than one or two fingers during a blowjob.
Though if all goes well, he might enjoy it so much he'll want it more, if only to see Sweetjane press her thighs together just like that.
A quiet sound rumbles from his chest as her cool fingers start to slick over his hole, watching his reaction. Despite the biting and scratching, she's taking his comfort seriously as she always has. It warms his heart honestly. Even left to her mercy as he was this very second, sliding a single finger into him until he's nice and slick and ready for the second, she never gives more than he could take.
Keith exhales shakily, stretching his arms above his head as he prepares to settle into her bed. Jesus, he's never considered how freakishly long her fingers are. His body takes two of them readily, so capable of providing pleasure, being able to easily find his prostate and brush over it. Fuck is his cock heavy. His heels slide down the bed as he tries to roll into the careful scissoring of her fingers, eager for more pressure against his sweet spot.
"Keith, ya think yer ready fer a third?" She asks, placing a knee on the the bed. Her unoccupied hand is moving below but he can't focus on anything let alone what she's doing. Not as she dips her head so close to the flushed exposed head of his dick, nor with the way she's begun rubbing tight circles against his prostate. Her breath flutters against him the moment he agrees, the soft pale curls brushing his leg, while the long fingers slide almost all the way out to let her ring finger join. She presses her fingertips against his slick hole, pausing for a moment, waiting. Keith holds back his sounds of impatience.
"Oh, Général," she moans softly. Keith matches it with a noise of his own, his eyes fixated on her head between his legs. "Please, lemme suck yer cock while I gitcha ready fer mine? I'm not gonna beg."
Keith catches his bottom lip between his teeth, his own hands dragging over his stomach, pinching his nipples, digging into the bruises scatter across his chest and throat. Anything, anything to hold himself back when she starts talking like that.
"I think you're trying to kill me at this rate," he says, his eyes lidded as he watches her laugh, lips so close to the head of his cock, fingers just barely pressing into him. She holds her fingers steady, just to show Keith how relaxed he was becoming. In the back of his mind he knows he's being properly cared for, even though he feels as taut as a live wire.
"Don't think a simple blowjob is gonna kill ya, Général. I woulda taken ya out a long time ago."
She made a good point. Keith swallows the knot in his throat, shifting until he's lying flatter against the bed, making sure to keep his legs spread wide.
"Yeah, uh, well," His mind searches for an answer. Something witty or sexy but he's drawing a blank. "It's alright, though you might wanna be careful… I'm… I'm, uh already… I'm close."
She spreads those long fingers inside hum, and Keith responds by rolling his hips into the motion as it drags across his prostate. She's so close he can see that her normally blue-grey eye is now nearly black with it's blown pupil. That's when he realizes she can see it all; his trembling, his relaxed hole and body, his flushed cock, the way that he eagerly accepts her fingers that have sunken deep and spread him wide.
"Not gonna let ya go that far," there's a slight teasing purr in her voice, "Promise." She presses her fingers in deep and scissors them wide, making his legs curl inward. Sweetjane is merciless, dragging her tongue briefly over his balls, up the length of his sensitive cock, dipping the tip lightly under his foreskin all while her fingers continue rubbing his prostate as if it didn't make his body arch from the bed, hurtling him closer, so damn close, to his orgasm. She doesn't sink down entirely though. His cock doesn't glide wholly against her tongue, nor does it meet the back of her throat only for the fat head to pop past the slight resistance until her nose is buried in his neatly trimmed body hair. She sucks lightly, rolling her tongue over the length of him, pressing into the tip of his dripping cock.
Keith grips the sheets with one hand and the other gripping the metal bar of her headboard. The feeling of her skilled lips just of the tip of his cock isn't enough, it's wonderful, it's too much. She jerks her hand, fucking her fingers into him as the lube dribbles from his over slicked hole, warm and just as teasing as the tender way she sucks at his cock, bobbing lower only for a moment, teasing his foreskin with more gentle licks, before pulling back up, never quite making it further than the head. He breathes hard, harder as her fingers stretch out wide yet again. Keith brings one long leg up, attempting to drape over her, only for a single sticky hand to gingerly guide him away before moving to cup his sac. His grip on the sheet slips, his hand drawing in nearer to [inch his nipples, just a little, she didn't say he couldn't. Just a touch more.
Her fingers hasten alongside her mouth as their head sinks further, just a touch lower and Keith is gasping like a man dying. "I—I," he exhales sharply, muscles quivering, body tight, hot, "I'm going to… I'm gonna—"
Knowing she's going to edge him doesn't make the loss of his orgasm any easier. He's shaking so hard he feels he might vibrate straight off the bed. His cock is dripping uselessly in the air as spit dries over the tip, dripping down his length. His partner puller her fingers free from his body; leaving him open, stretched and aching. She touches him gently, carefully, stroking the backs of his thighs and over his stomach, soothing until his breathing relaxes again.
"Bon," she whispers, "Si beau, Général. I can't wait to fuck ya, just tell me when yer ready fer me."
Keith nods, his mind too far gone to translate the little French he know. His hands reach out, fingertips tracing her translucent skin, finding purchase on her back as she sits up high enough to hover his body. They kiss him as many times as he desires, her hips arching away from his own as his dick throbs pathetically over his taut stomach. His nerves are buzzing, his entire body feeling as if he's still standing over the edge long after the crest of his looming orgasm has pulled back enough for them to truly begin. Part of his mind is stilling reeling over the idea the she wants to fuck him so eagerly.
"All I want is fer ya ta feel good," she says quietly, pulling back enough to stroke his hair away from his face, to kiss him again, to meet his eyes. He body heat warms him all over, despite how careful she's hovering over him— mindful of his cock. Of his sensitive, bitten inner thighs.
"You're doin' a good job at that."
Her responding laughter is quiet, muffled by how she tips to kiss beneath his ear, down his throat. Her hands would wander over him, if she wasn't so focused on holding herself up. The kisses laid over his flushed throat are nothing like her biting earlier, or the rough way she sucked marks into his skin until it throbbed. She makes her way back down between his thighs as she sits back to properly fit the toy into place. His breathing evens out as she gets herself into the straps, moving with graceful practiced ease. He swallows thickly at the sight of her hand squeezing up and down the glass cock, making it seem even slicker. The intensity of her gaze is not lost on him— it's nearly overwhelming, to know she is also very excited at the idea of fucking him, despite it not bringing her any direct pleasure. At least to his limited knowledge of such things. Keith knows that if were to voice that thought he would be quickly silenced. He decides to save them both time, and focuses instead on anything but the ache in his balls, or the pulsing in his cock.
The shine of the lubricant on the toy. The way the cock fits her body perfectly, fitted so nicely into the harness that suits her so well it looks as if it was made to be worn by her. Her hands as she treks up his thighs, to his cock, then lower. Her hand move low enough to pull aside his ass cheek with her thumb, eyes locked to his stretched, slick hole. All he can do is whine softly, hips adjusting to her thighs pressing closer. The toy is nearly there.
She looks so smug, and all Keith can do is think about how that look is so goddamn sexy on her. How she seems entirely too pleased, content to just sit between his thighs and teasing the tip against his taint, just barely pressing in his hole.
"All ya have ta do is tell me yer ready fer me. After dat, you can cum whenever ya want."
It's permission she doesn't often grant when they play like this. Keith steadies his breath, locking his eyes onto the toy as the tip grazes upward, nudging his skin and merely skimming over his hole once again.
"I'm ready." He nods, breathing through the words and stretching himself languidly as his body is maneuvered. His thighs frame her instead of wrapping around her hips— he's certain he'll only weigh her down if he tries, his hands busy themselves elsewhere on the bed.
Their gaze was intense before. Now she's analyzing ever move he makes. Watching ever twitch of his brow, feeling each tremble of his thighs as he's gradually eased into. Her lethargic movement is appreciated with her knowledge of his inexperience in this area of intimacy. He inhales at the slight resistance against the ridges of the toy as she pushes inside, exhaling as the fattest part of the cock presses in. It's wonderful; the size is perfect, bordering on overwhelming yet not quite making it there. He's left breathless. His toes curl when Sweetjane's ample hips meet his pelvis, fitting the toy inside him completely. It's cooler than her fingers yet no less pleasant. He swallows the influx of saliva in his mouth where it pools against his tongue, wetting his lips with it.
Sweetjane rubs her hands over his legs, and he spreads them wider in response. Part of him wishes she would begin fucking him right away, to force him to really feel the stretch of the toy. the sweet burn, the ache on his sensitive prostate.
Another time. Next time. When they're both more practiced with this— though, Sweetjane seems quite comfortable as she settles in, tightening the straps around her hips as he adjusts. he exhales, his eyes fixing on her. Before his mind could float away too far, her nails threaten to bite into his hips.
"Ya ready now? Or do ya need more time?" she asks, her voice hitting that perfect low note. Keith shivers.
"No," the muscles in his thighs jumping as a warm hand grazes over a still sore bite, over to his hole, stretched around the toy. Her eyes track lower, taking in the sight of him spread wide on the bed, and Keith runs his own hands over his chest again.
"I'm gonna start then. If ya need me ta stop or slow down, whateva ya need— just say so, okay? Don't be shy 'bout it."
"Okay," he laughs softly. As if he were capable of feeling shy with her anymore.
Once she's thoroughly reassure that this is what he wants and that he will be very vocal about it, she plants her hands on either side of him and adjust her legs. The cock slides impossibly deeper, and Keith settles into the mattress.
All of a sudden, the room feels as if it's on fire.
Sweetjane's hips rock steadily in easy, fluid rolls. The press of the straps into his skin is quickly forgotten when she picks up the pace enough for the textured ridges to ease out of him before sliding back inside. It's good. Her attention to his body, the way Keith feels her spread her legs wider to fuck him better, has him aching to touch. He reaches out, hardly minding the stutter in her gradually increasing pace as on hand curls around her arm while the other reaches down to grip the back of one of his legs.
It only spreads him wider, his mouth dropping open as his eyes roll shut in response. The pace quickens enough for her hips to slap against his. He knows he's going to be sore after this, that he won't be able to sit right but it doesn't matter; it's only a fleeting thought in his mind as she angles her hips and brings their flesh together again and again. Keith tightens his grip around her forearm and hikes his leg up higher. Every breath is being fucked out of him, no matter how measured or even the pace is. He's filled completely.
"You can go faster," he breathers into her ear, voice pitching up as her shifting hips meet their goal.
The ridges rub directly over his prostate; as she angles herself higher, situating herself until he can feel every brush of her body over his heaving chest, pressed in tight, breathing just as heavily as he, his muscles squeezing down tighter. Keith cannot recall a time where he has ever felt so sensitive. Not even the scarring after his attack felt like this. Every nerve is alight with her touch, his muscles tense and waiting for the knot in his stomach to give. Between them, his cock twitches, and she hums soothingly.
"Ya okay, Général?"
Good God, please…"
The pace increases gradually, easing him into the way the toy beings to rock out of him before widening in the middle, size increasing as the textured weighty toy is abruptly thrust back inside. his inner thighs are quivering , his hips shifting into each rocking thrust, keeping himself angled so the toy can keep hitting him just right.
"Dere we go," her voice is suddenly so low, so close to his ear, and Keith realizes his eyes have fallen shut. The press of her body over his own is sweet, and her nails are pinpricks against the skin of his thigh, dragging over his body hair and digging into the meat of his muscle to keep him pinned. Keith releases his grip of himself, then from around her arm to wrap his own arms around her shoulders. he's careful not to hold her too tightly, even as his thoughts scatter and slip away like water.
"Didn't know ya'd be so noisy," she coos, her voice full of affection. He curls his leg around her lower back, it's twin balanced flat on her bed to better aid her, giving her leverage to thrust harder. The glass cock is firm, broad, and harsh — it nearly pounds against him. He hadn't realized he was making any more noise than usual.
She shifts again, and Keith closes his mouth to swallow, groaning low and holding her closer as his own heavy, aching cock presses wetly against her stomach just over the scar there. The friction is delicious, incredible, enough that his spine arches. Sweetjane makes a low noise from where she's dropped her head against his throat. The sting of her teeth, of a harsh kiss over his rapid beating pulse, the fat toy spreading him wide and fucking him deep, and now combined with the roll of her abdomen against his poor cock— he's not going to last much longer. She has got to know, or he must have made a noise to tip her off, because his cheek is peppered in kisses.
"Told ya ta cum wheneva ya want. All I want is ta make ya feel good. Do ya want me ta go harder?"
"Oh fuck,I—"
His sentence dies on his tongue, lost to another moan, another noise taking over. He rocks himself into each movement as Sweetjane fucks him faster, her words slipping through his mind without registering any recognizable form. She's praising him, encouraging him, he can tell from the tone, but all Keith can feel is lost to the knot loosening in his stomach, to how his muscles pull taut. The pace of the toy slows considerably for a moment, but he's already tipped over the edge, his body shuddering and fat dick twitching uselessly between their bodies. His inner thighs are suddenly sore, but his hips still roll into the easy thrusts, though it's more of a rocking. Part of him wonders why, though it's minute compared to the rest of him lost to the cotton stuffing his head, the electricity twined into his limbs. It's nothing like when he drops down during his turns as her submissive. He's still present, still aware. He hums softly as his head floats back into place and his thoughts snap back together.
"—fer me, Keith. I'm gonna need a ya to let go." Keith opens his eyes, blinks, and realizes how tightly his legs are wrapped around her hips.
"S…Sorry," he responds, releasing her from between his legs. He keeps himself spread wide, feeling a touch oversensitive as his body rights itself. She smiles, stroking her hands down his chest, yet staying away from the majority of his torso, still sticky and slick with sweat and cum.
"'S alright, just didn't expect ya ta lock up on me like dat!" She laughs, hands pressing against his thighs, then lower to keep him spread properly. "Not that I'm complainin', I was kinda hopin' fer a strong reaction. I'm pullin out now, okay?"
He nods, slow and languid, thorough fucked. Sweetjane's careful as she pulls back, moving decisively. It aches, and the middle is the hardest part with his body so tired, nut it's over quickly. The summer air is fizzling like magic dancing over them. It leaves the hair on his legs and arms raised, warming him pleasantly from his fingers to his toes.
Keith stretches as soon as she's off the bed— he's sure they'd both fit, he just wishes to lie back and spread out, turning his head to watch her stand off the bed. He quietly admires the sight of his cum on her ribs and stomach, her hips imprinted with lines from the sleek leather. He wished he had more energy as interest started to stir in his stomach again. He'd take her where she stood, fuck her just as thoroughly as she did him.
"Sweetjane," he starts, reaching his hand out to entice her back to the bed. She comes, a fond smile radiant on her face. He strokes his fingertips over the lines in her skin, up to her stomach. "I wanna take care of you now."
She laughs quietly, slapping his hand away gently. "I was gonna clean ya up. I'd think ya'd be tired after that?"
Keith's grin broadens as far as his scarring would let it as she moves to straddle his abdomen, already inching higher with the gentle pull of his hands around her waist. She strokes some of the black strands away from his face, meeting him in a soft kiss.
"I always have the energy to handle you, Sweetjane."
Morgan tugged gently at his restraints. The silk blind fold was tied securely around him so he could not see. Being bound and having to rely on senses other than sight was somewhat of a thrill.
Blamore was a new partner in his life and they were just in the new stage of getting to know one another but things were certainly taking an interesting turn in their new found relationship. What said relationship was he wasn't sure but he was in no rush to put a label on things, whether they became lovers or friends with benefits or some other third thing, he was content enough to let the chips fall where they may.
He heard Blamore's footsteps and a sideways smile parted his lips. "Are you going to tell me what you're going to do, or is it a surprise?" His fingers curled around the silk ties, his hands tied securely above his head. The material was simply lovely to touch but it was also the anticipation that built up inside of him that made him want to tug now and again.
