LOREN
As the sensation of a phantom tongue licked its way across Loren’s lips, a mirror of the action of the god before him, the summoner moaned in pleasure. His hand, unbidden, came up to trace the path as well, as if to recapture the feeling. Not trusting himself to speak, he just shook his head at Frey’s comment, and lowered his eyes, ashamed. It was true: Loren was not worthy of any of this, and he’d been a fool to think he ever could be.Then, there was the feeling of juice sliding down Loren’s chest and coming to a stop. Reaching up with his other hand, as the first was still lingering on his lips, his fingers pinched his nipple, eliciting another moan. He would’ve done just about anything for Frey in that moment, had the deity asked. However, then the full weight of Frey’s eyes crashed down on the Launceleyn and he shivered both sensually and worriedly. He’d already disappointed the wonderful divinity before him, and that was unforgivable. ”N-nothing,” he stammered out past the heady mix of desire and shame, before he tried to stand on legs that did not feel as if they’d support his weight.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
