And the warm breath slid upwards—each exhalation both promise and torment of the sweetest kind. Rory's breath stuck and shuddered and he shivered, the pads of his fingers pressing into the shoulder he had forgotten his hand on. He was lost in the sensation, lost in the wait, lost in the view; another breath trembled into the night. The intake was a hiss, a gasp, a river of pleasure and a flood of fire as Jigano licked him. There was a question in it, something like hesitation, and those grayed-out eyes flickered up.
Rory met his gaze steadily, even though his chest heaved and even though he throbbed, something in his mind trying to make it through the lust-fog and understand...
For a moment, he was struck by the reality of it: the taste of Jigano still in his mouth, and the man himself kneeling between his legs, his lips and tongue on Rory's cock. It was really, really not how he had pictured today would go, but he had absolutely zero complaints about the unexpected detour from the plans.
But slowly, he came to realize two things: one was that the pause was not only a tease. Maybe it was a little of a tease, but not in the confident way Rory had done it, for something like uncertainty lurked in his eyes and in his face, in the silence, in the breaths coming hot and close against that sensitive part of him.
Which brought him to the second realization: there was no guarantee that Jigano had ever done this before. Which, honestly, didn't matter in any way at all.
Rory, still breathing quickly, pressed his fingers against Jigano's damp shoulder, drew a calloused finger along his throat and up to his jaw, stroked his thumb across his cheek and tangled his hand in the white hair below his ear. He thought that, maybe, what he was saying was it's okay, but he wasn't sure—that might not have been the question that had been asked.
Regardless, he seemed to have given Jigano the confidence he needed to take the plunge, because a smile so unlike his usual ones flitted across the fox's face. Underneath his palm he felt Jigano's mouth open, his head moving down—
—and Rory's eyes fluttered half-shut again as he gasped, then groaned, tensing as he fought the urge to press his hips against Jigano's face and the warmth that enveloped him. He had to be mindful, anything else was just.. rude, even though rude was what his body wanted (quick, fast, dirty, hard). His breathing turned to moans, fingers trailing through the tangled hair, his eyes fluttering open again in shameless study: and the view more than made up for the inexperience on Jigano's part.
Rory met his gaze steadily, even though his chest heaved and even though he throbbed, something in his mind trying to make it through the lust-fog and understand...
For a moment, he was struck by the reality of it: the taste of Jigano still in his mouth, and the man himself kneeling between his legs, his lips and tongue on Rory's cock. It was really, really not how he had pictured today would go, but he had absolutely zero complaints about the unexpected detour from the plans.
But slowly, he came to realize two things: one was that the pause was not only a tease. Maybe it was a little of a tease, but not in the confident way Rory had done it, for something like uncertainty lurked in his eyes and in his face, in the silence, in the breaths coming hot and close against that sensitive part of him.
Which brought him to the second realization: there was no guarantee that Jigano had ever done this before. Which, honestly, didn't matter in any way at all.
Rory, still breathing quickly, pressed his fingers against Jigano's damp shoulder, drew a calloused finger along his throat and up to his jaw, stroked his thumb across his cheek and tangled his hand in the white hair below his ear. He thought that, maybe, what he was saying was it's okay, but he wasn't sure—that might not have been the question that had been asked.
Regardless, he seemed to have given Jigano the confidence he needed to take the plunge, because a smile so unlike his usual ones flitted across the fox's face. Underneath his palm he felt Jigano's mouth open, his head moving down—
—and Rory's eyes fluttered half-shut again as he gasped, then groaned, tensing as he fought the urge to press his hips against Jigano's face and the warmth that enveloped him. He had to be mindful, anything else was just.. rude, even though rude was what his body wanted (quick, fast, dirty, hard). His breathing turned to moans, fingers trailing through the tangled hair, his eyes fluttering open again in shameless study: and the view more than made up for the inexperience on Jigano's part.
