Thoughts, questions, concerns about restraining Clyde, letting his cock, thick with his knot, lay on his stomach as you lick the point of your tongue along the veins. Nothing more. Just the beautifully corded veins. Until he... drips? Cries mayhaps? What say you, Alpha?
I have had many loves in my life. I love wine. I love my cat. I love inane political debates. But mostly: I love you, G. And I love this ask more than I have ever loved anything. My spit got physically frothy at the thought
*wiggles fingers*
Allow my elaboration to take you somewhere excellent
Savouring the look on his face is, perhaps, the best part of the experience.
The way his blunt toenails drag at the sheets; brown eyes swallowed by a blackness that cuts right through the air. His fist clenches in his dark tangles, and Dear God - but have you ever seen anything so addictive as Clyde Logan, falling apart with every lap of your tongue?
His cock bobs in time with his throat - teeth gritting when your lips eclipse the tip of his head. Like clockwork: the way his breath catches, the salty taste of his want driving you to madness.
"Shit--Darlin', you're just so--"
When you trace the rough of your tongue over the blue vein that follows his cock right up the shaft - Clyde falters. A groan splits his lips, and the morning light kisses at every freckle on his pinched expression.
"So what, sweetheart?" you ask - devious as you can be.
He moans.
"So good t'me. Please, just--"
Just let me cum.
Let me burn up, until I'm all yours.
Your teeth just softly drag against the ridge of his head, and Clyde Logan - who is usually so ready to praise your name - can do nothing but whimper.
"Be good for me," you growl: fingernails at the dip of his hip, "and we'll see."
