( Is he excusing these salacious urges? Sunday has to think about it and wonder, breath hitching slightly as his nose takes to the soft flesh and his scent; twitching with pure masculinity and desire. It's all thanks to the desperate pheromones of barely getting much experience. He swallows the knot in his throat that holds back a sound as soon as his lips grace the bulbous tip with a kiss. He can't help the pearls that begin to glisten down the way of his slit, searing as it meets up with his piercing. He's a true blessing from heaven, this Olivine person. )
That all depends on you, won't it?
( He says under his breath, low and deeper than usual - gritty. He helps his shorts wedge lower so his balls can also be freed between the parting of his zipper. He'd almost forgotten the paradise awaiting them outside this dream, and just like everything in the past: Sunday prefers it here. Safe in this bubble, in this building full of mental stimuli and Olivine's servitude.
His hips flinch the second he's taken deeper into that hot cavern, feeling every skillful move of his tongue lapping over his veins and silky flesh. Sunday swears he can see different colors flash across his eyes. Instead of arching away, he curls inward and takes hold of his hair using both hands, breathing hot. The slit is sensitive as all hell and he almost juts and thrusts - just give him sometime to adjust to the bliss and he might go insane. It would be quite the show, given how reserved he is, a sight for Olivine alone. )
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That all depends on you, won't it?
( He says under his breath, low and deeper than usual - gritty. He helps his shorts wedge lower so his balls can also be freed between the parting of his zipper. He'd almost forgotten the paradise awaiting them outside this dream, and just like everything in the past: Sunday prefers it here. Safe in this bubble, in this building full of mental stimuli and Olivine's servitude.
His hips flinch the second he's taken deeper into that hot cavern, feeling every skillful move of his tongue lapping over his veins and silky flesh. Sunday swears he can see different colors flash across his eyes. Instead of arching away, he curls inward and takes hold of his hair using both hands, breathing hot. The slit is sensitive as all hell and he almost juts and thrusts - just give him sometime to adjust to the bliss and he might go insane. It would be quite the show, given how reserved he is, a sight for Olivine alone. )
Ah...