[ Kaspar feels it. Because they are connected. Every twitch and throb reverberates across his lips and tongue. He takes him in smoothly with a hum at the shiver. Setting a slow pace over him, stoking the lone plant on an outcropping to flames long before being engulfed by the lava that already surrounds it.
Kaspar's body bows and moves fluidly with the scrape of nails, making sounds better felt in his throat than heard in the otherwise quiet night air. He presses back against their raking, then curves away like lava flowing down the path of least resistance first. It works the hem of his shirt up just enough to reveal a stretch of glowing skin. Curiously, there is a small mark to one side, skin as dark as Steinbeck's in the night. Its only dark edge wraps enticeingly toward the unseen front of his hip. Kaspar gently squeezes the back of his thighs as he works him deeper.
He is speared, stuck in another trap of his own making when Steinbeck goes and says that. His chest heats and his throat tightens, urging Kaspar to swallow around him before he moans. He soaks in the compliment with the breathlessness of taking him to the hilt. Light-headedness and endorphins mix like tin and copper; the thrill of feeling wanted by someone he cares for. His glow pulses, light slowly dimming before brightening again, more star like freckles visible over his cheeks and ears. Tears prick, but his expression is serene.
His hands begin their retreat as his mouth does, taking a deep breath as he blindly undoes the buttons of his flannel. Shrugging it off, he tries to keep Steinbeck's cock cradled on his tongue and then his mouth. It's too hot. He works hard for the definition of his arms. And he wants Steinbeck to see more in the dark. His white undershirt is tight, sleeveless, and military grade; leaving bare two glowing arms littered with hard to see scars. Only a couple noticeably dim the glow of his skin. Burns, now only visible at night unless one knows exactly where to look. ]
no subject
Kaspar's body bows and moves fluidly with the scrape of nails, making sounds better felt in his throat than heard in the otherwise quiet night air. He presses back against their raking, then curves away like lava flowing down the path of least resistance first. It works the hem of his shirt up just enough to reveal a stretch of glowing skin. Curiously, there is a small mark to one side, skin as dark as Steinbeck's in the night. Its only dark edge wraps enticeingly toward the unseen front of his hip. Kaspar gently squeezes the back of his thighs as he works him deeper.
He is speared, stuck in another trap of his own making when Steinbeck goes and says that. His chest heats and his throat tightens, urging Kaspar to swallow around him before he moans. He soaks in the compliment with the breathlessness of taking him to the hilt. Light-headedness and endorphins mix like tin and copper; the thrill of feeling wanted by someone he cares for. His glow pulses, light slowly dimming before brightening again, more star like freckles visible over his cheeks and ears. Tears prick, but his expression is serene.
His hands begin their retreat as his mouth does, taking a deep breath as he blindly undoes the buttons of his flannel. Shrugging it off, he tries to keep Steinbeck's cock cradled on his tongue and then his mouth. It's too hot. He works hard for the definition of his arms. And he wants Steinbeck to see more in the dark. His white undershirt is tight, sleeveless, and military grade; leaving bare two glowing arms littered with hard to see scars. Only a couple noticeably dim the glow of his skin. Burns, now only visible at night unless one knows exactly where to look. ]