It's cheating. ( he says, in an immediate breath, a breath that's tinged with a little bit of humor--or maybe it's just the hot, heated sigh from the way that, nearly embarrassed, his cock flinches, twitches beneath the touch, as though not fully expecting it and yet greedy for it all the same. ) My arms aren't that long...
( --which is to say that he doesn't mind, could never mind, because that arm is a part of palamedes now, and he's already swept himself under the firm belief that any part of palamedes should not only be accepted, but welcomed, warmly, by him. it doesn't bother him, just another touch that he wants, a touch that has his mouth lifting off the side of palamedes' neck to kiss, gently, over the spot where his teeth nearly worried the skin into a red little mark. not that he really minds it, leaving behind that kind of souvenir, but it feels a little presumptuous to assume that it would be wanted without asking.
he doesn't ask. instead, his mouth dedicates itself to climbing up along the side of palamedes' neck, kissing at his jaw, nudging in there with another little mouthed sigh of pleasure; his hand tightens, a firm grip as though to say they'll both have to contend with each other, or find some mutual harmony in the touch, because he doesn't want to let go. wants to feel the way his skin slicks beneath his fingers, the way he learns the length of him by tactile greed alone, and his head nudges back, slowly, brushing them nearly nose to nose. )
Is this alright? ( a gentle echo, as though just to confirm--and to tease, a little, as he lets his wrist find a slow, easy sort of rhythm, paired only with the anticipation of further touch from palamedes' sticky new arm. ) You can just let me help you.
( translated to mean, you can just let me take care of you. )
no subject
( --which is to say that he doesn't mind, could never mind, because that arm is a part of palamedes now, and he's already swept himself under the firm belief that any part of palamedes should not only be accepted, but welcomed, warmly, by him. it doesn't bother him, just another touch that he wants, a touch that has his mouth lifting off the side of palamedes' neck to kiss, gently, over the spot where his teeth nearly worried the skin into a red little mark. not that he really minds it, leaving behind that kind of souvenir, but it feels a little presumptuous to assume that it would be wanted without asking.
he doesn't ask. instead, his mouth dedicates itself to climbing up along the side of palamedes' neck, kissing at his jaw, nudging in there with another little mouthed sigh of pleasure; his hand tightens, a firm grip as though to say they'll both have to contend with each other, or find some mutual harmony in the touch, because he doesn't want to let go. wants to feel the way his skin slicks beneath his fingers, the way he learns the length of him by tactile greed alone, and his head nudges back, slowly, brushing them nearly nose to nose. )
Is this alright? ( a gentle echo, as though just to confirm--and to tease, a little, as he lets his wrist find a slow, easy sort of rhythm, paired only with the anticipation of further touch from palamedes' sticky new arm. ) You can just let me help you.
( translated to mean, you can just let me take care of you. )