Izzy hisses and spits like a cat in heat and, if he's honest, the comparison is entirely apt. He's driven, Izzy is driven, and he's about to start sobbing as he rubs himself raw on Izzy. He could slow, let his own softening cock go, but the little painful sparkling bits of pleasure, the over-stimulation, is almost as good as climax when it comes to soothing the sensation in his veins. He shivers and ignores Izzy's threats, toothless as they are, but oh how he wants to swallow the sounds he makes.
He's panting into the air in front of Izzy, eyes screwed up with pleasure. He cracks them just as Izzy gives his last orders, tells him to be a good boy, and his dark eyes watch with absolute fascination as he works to take Israel Hands apart.
He's good at this, though, better than Izzy probably expected. One of the benefits of being a seductress--lots of practice. (While Izzy was studying the blade, Lucius was studying this.)
"Wonder if you're this pretty when you're getting fucked?" Lucius supposes out loud, his voice a hoarse whisper into Izzy's space. The man is flushed from his chest to his neck, with exertion, with heat, and it's a good, good look on him. He braces himself for the too-much of it and tightens his grip, twisting his hand so that he can pay special attention, curl and cup around the heads of their cocks as he reaches the top of his stroke. Izzy's is weeping clear fluid with every pass and, god, it's painfully hot.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-06-18 10:17 pm (UTC)He's panting into the air in front of Izzy, eyes screwed up with pleasure. He cracks them just as Izzy gives his last orders, tells him to be a good boy, and his dark eyes watch with absolute fascination as he works to take Israel Hands apart.
He's good at this, though, better than Izzy probably expected. One of the benefits of being a seductress--lots of practice. (While Izzy was studying the blade, Lucius was studying this.)
"Wonder if you're this pretty when you're getting fucked?" Lucius supposes out loud, his voice a hoarse whisper into Izzy's space. The man is flushed from his chest to his neck, with exertion, with heat, and it's a good, good look on him. He braces himself for the too-much of it and tightens his grip, twisting his hand so that he can pay special attention, curl and cup around the heads of their cocks as he reaches the top of his stroke. Izzy's is weeping clear fluid with every pass and, god, it's painfully hot.
"You still this bossy then?"