// i am heaven sent, don't you dare forget —
Thorn, being abandoned, does call out to the gods fairly regularly during times like these, where it becomes an almost spiritual endeavor — breaths panting and lining up, a unique vulnerability in how they drag pleasure from one another. But for right now, Mateo’s moan only spurs him on, hand tightening against the botanists length as his thrusts grow more intense, caring far little for the vase and the rest of the items on the table as they spill and clatter to the floor.
As far as the courtesan is concerned, it’s a damn good show for anyone passing by.
“Fuck, baby.” It’s music to his ears as Mateo thrusts forward, moans in that language he doesn’t know painting the air beautifully, and the courtesan’s well practiced hand works to get through any further aftershocks for the other man before the hand at the botanist’s throat moves down his body to the edge of the table. Grunts and moans accompany a breathless Thorn as he thrusts deeply himself, head pressing into Mateo’s shoulder as the tether snaps for himself, too, his orgasm rocking through his body with an almost trembling kind of result, riding it out and panting.
As far as the courtesan is concerned, it’s a damn good show for anyone passing by.
“Fuck, baby.” It’s music to his ears as Mateo thrusts forward, moans in that language he doesn’t know painting the air beautifully, and the courtesan’s well practiced hand works to get through any further aftershocks for the other man before the hand at the botanist’s throat moves down his body to the edge of the table. Grunts and moans accompany a breathless Thorn as he thrusts deeply himself, head pressing into Mateo’s shoulder as the tether snaps for himself, too, his orgasm rocking through his body with an almost trembling kind of result, riding it out and panting.
thorn
— i am all you've ever wanted,
what all the other boys all promised //
what all the other boys all promised //
