Honey wherever you go, I know
Her response only deepens his grin, the spread of it hurting the corners of his cheeks where it lingers on display long after the sound of his laughs die out. "That's entirely your fault," he accuses, not even bothering to defend himself because, yeah. Getting her off first had been enough to tip him past rock hard—diamond rank erection at least. "You did say my endurance is shit," he reminds her with an almost sing-song effect. "Guess we'll just have to keep practicing. I mean, 'training'."
"Yea", he stresses with intentional attitude, "what else would you call that outfit Frey whipped up for me? Although all the humor fades in an instant, surprise cutting in. He struggles to prop up onto a forearm so he can see her better. "Wait, wait, wait—that night?" There's a pause, then a slow and playful spreads to just one end of his lips. "It was ME you were thinking about in the bedroom when I walked in on you, wasn't it?" Smug has completely stained him at this point. She could tickle him on the bottom of his feet and he'd still be preening about this. Imagine if they'd just lept then.
Then, as the rest of her words echo through the haze of his now proud memory of her bathed in moonlight, arched in pleasure, he sighs a reassurance. "Don't worry, I'm not running for at least an hour." Not even sure he'll be up in an hour, but she's managing the feat, and watching her does little to inspire him to attempt it. "You and me both," he mutters once he's free of her and can look down at his soaked attire, looking like some malformed merman with the way that shower has beat the loose edges flat along the ground.
Numb tingles race up his legs as he straightens them out in full for the first time in a while, eliciting a groan of complaint while he stuffs his good back beneath the zipper line. He inhales deeply, then grabs for her hand to help him up. The static spills down his legs and he wobbles for a minute, before turning to slouch with his back against the shower. Gathering balance and a breath, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and shoves down. The wet fabric clings insistently to his skin, much thicker than the damp lace she'd been wearing, and for a moment nothing happens except his grimace. He rocks a bit back and forth, a bit like a fish just hauled onto deck, if upright, and finally a pocket of air gives and with a wet slap he heaves them to his knees. "Fucking, harder than running a mile," he curses, stomping out of the rest and kicking them to a corner with a loathing finality. "Worth it though."
"Yea", he stresses with intentional attitude, "what else would you call that outfit Frey whipped up for me? Although all the humor fades in an instant, surprise cutting in. He struggles to prop up onto a forearm so he can see her better. "Wait, wait, wait—that night?" There's a pause, then a slow and playful spreads to just one end of his lips. "It was ME you were thinking about in the bedroom when I walked in on you, wasn't it?" Smug has completely stained him at this point. She could tickle him on the bottom of his feet and he'd still be preening about this. Imagine if they'd just lept then.
Then, as the rest of her words echo through the haze of his now proud memory of her bathed in moonlight, arched in pleasure, he sighs a reassurance. "Don't worry, I'm not running for at least an hour." Not even sure he'll be up in an hour, but she's managing the feat, and watching her does little to inspire him to attempt it. "You and me both," he mutters once he's free of her and can look down at his soaked attire, looking like some malformed merman with the way that shower has beat the loose edges flat along the ground.
Numb tingles race up his legs as he straightens them out in full for the first time in a while, eliciting a groan of complaint while he stuffs his good back beneath the zipper line. He inhales deeply, then grabs for her hand to help him up. The static spills down his legs and he wobbles for a minute, before turning to slouch with his back against the shower. Gathering balance and a breath, he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and shoves down. The wet fabric clings insistently to his skin, much thicker than the damp lace she'd been wearing, and for a moment nothing happens except his grimace. He rocks a bit back and forth, a bit like a fish just hauled onto deck, if upright, and finally a pocket of air gives and with a wet slap he heaves them to his knees. "Fucking, harder than running a mile," he curses, stomping out of the rest and kicking them to a corner with a loathing finality. "Worth it though."
Kaisel
I'd give up half of forever, just to be with you
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
