[ First round or second round, whatever. It's the anticipation that he can hardly bear. His arm's sleeping and then it's tingling all over, needles of sensation below the nerves when Tartaglia pulls it back to see. Fingertips dropped to the mattress, they leave streaks as his hand opens, closes, opens again, movements come loose. Legs as slack as his posture, he crumples them back together, knees driven to dig into He Xuan's sides.
Even this tendency to filthy things up can't get away from him; all these urges on the rise, and he gives way to none of them, trying for patience when held so deeply. Hard to stay so motionless when compelled otherwise, thinking largely inconsequential things about He Xuan's hair and how it's like this long, black spill of ink pouring over him, colder than each bite gifted to his neck. ]
Sometimes I wonder. Feels a little premeditated!
[ Looking a bit mangled with these bruises edging into his skin, Tartaglia pulls him down by those dark strands, gently tugging at He Xuan's scalp. All this time has passed and he can't quit being haunted by hubris. A bit hesitant to relinquish control, he still adopts the recreational tone, teasing under a shivery jaw and bared throat. ]
no subject
Even this tendency to filthy things up can't get away from him; all these urges on the rise, and he gives way to none of them, trying for patience when held so deeply. Hard to stay so motionless when compelled otherwise, thinking largely inconsequential things about He Xuan's hair and how it's like this long, black spill of ink pouring over him, colder than each bite gifted to his neck. ]
Sometimes I wonder. Feels a little premeditated!
[ Looking a bit mangled with these bruises edging into his skin, Tartaglia pulls him down by those dark strands, gently tugging at He Xuan's scalp. All this time has passed and he can't quit being haunted by hubris. A bit hesitant to relinquish control, he still adopts the recreational tone, teasing under a shivery jaw and bared throat. ]
Are you into me?