[ Phainon is, perhaps, less adept at this than he would like, but he intends to keep practicing. If he can do what he is able to make Mydeimos feel good, then it is worth it. His heart putters along in his chest, nervously shy about it, shivering at the touches, the sting, the way his body reacts.
He should be tired. He isn't. Mydei brings something out of him he cannot explain.
Instead of fretting, he tries to settle his mind. He can't help the way he almost chuckles into the other man's chest, lips tight as he pulls, his other hand continuing to twist, to pinch, to hear those lovely sounds once more. ]
[ His voice pitches higher than he'll ever admit; the touches might not be masterful but they're enough, Mydeimos arching his chest into his hands with a noise not unlike a sob.
His thighs flex where his legs are hooked around Phainon's, and when he pinches hard, dares to tug with his teeth, he gasps softly. ] Again -
[ It's so good, he feels so powerful, and Phainon can't stop, can't resist.
He wants to hear more. He wants to devour more. There's no hint of giving Mydei an out, the pinch turning into a twist as his teeth scrape, mouth widening so he can bite around him, leave a mark, maiming him with his affection. He groans into his friend's skin, yearning, desperate for more. ]
[ His body jolts slightly at the bite to his chest, a groan spilling over his lips as his nipple is twisted sharply. It's a bright, blooming sensation of pain that melts into pleasure. It isn't bad at all; it's exhilarating, the same way it is when Phainon gets a good hit in, making his cock jump and throb.
His body undulates against Phainon's, nails digging sharply into the back of his neck, both holding him there and gouging scratches over the marks there. ]
Close - keep going.
[ His voice is rough and desperate; he just needs a little more. ]
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never, i believed in you
He should be tired. He isn't. Mydei brings something out of him he cannot explain.
Instead of fretting, he tries to settle his mind. He can't help the way he almost chuckles into the other man's chest, lips tight as he pulls, his other hand continuing to twist, to pinch, to hear those lovely sounds once more. ]
no subject
[ His voice pitches higher than he'll ever admit; the touches might not be masterful but they're enough, Mydeimos arching his chest into his hands with a noise not unlike a sob.
His thighs flex where his legs are hooked around Phainon's, and when he pinches hard, dares to tug with his teeth, he gasps softly. ] Again -
no subject
He wants to hear more. He wants to devour more. There's no hint of giving Mydei an out, the pinch turning into a twist as his teeth scrape, mouth widening so he can bite around him, leave a mark, maiming him with his affection. He groans into his friend's skin, yearning, desperate for more. ]
no subject
His body undulates against Phainon's, nails digging sharply into the back of his neck, both holding him there and gouging scratches over the marks there. ]
Close - keep going.
[ His voice is rough and desperate; he just needs a little more. ]