Love mends even the broken parts
Honestly, Loren didn’t mind the whole dominant Abasi look, as evidenced by the fact that his eyes were suddenly transfixed by Frey. Licking his lips, the Launceleyn nodded. ”I can do that.” He was shocked at how firmly his voice came out. It was nothing compared to how firm his cock grew at the god’s fingers reached through his pants to cup his balls; even though he hissed at the discomfort, his eyes grew half-lidded with pleasure. ”I will.”
Then, though, he gasped as the god’s hands somehow moved through him. As they did, his fear spiked, and his heart and breath both sped up. Images flickered before him, and voices echoed in his ears as his mouth grew dry and his palms sweaty. Gritting his teeth against the sensation, the Launceleyn found himself snarling against the onslaught. He’d faced worse than this, and so he reached deep down within himself, to the core of who he was, his magic, his willpower, his soul, calling upon the fortitude Frey demanded of him to fight and claw and struggle against this nearly overwhelming desire to flee.
He wouldn’t budge, even as he shuddered in their grip. Instead, he pushed against the feeling, tamped down on it, threw everything he was against it in a desperate attempt. As the god's fingers ran through Loren's hair, he growled, and refused to let his gaze slip away from Frey's (not that he had a choice). Instead, his eyes narrowed and he straightened his posture.
Then, though, he gasped as the god’s hands somehow moved through him. As they did, his fear spiked, and his heart and breath both sped up. Images flickered before him, and voices echoed in his ears as his mouth grew dry and his palms sweaty. Gritting his teeth against the sensation, the Launceleyn found himself snarling against the onslaught. He’d faced worse than this, and so he reached deep down within himself, to the core of who he was, his magic, his willpower, his soul, calling upon the fortitude Frey demanded of him to fight and claw and struggle against this nearly overwhelming desire to flee.
He wouldn’t budge, even as he shuddered in their grip. Instead, he pushed against the feeling, tamped down on it, threw everything he was against it in a desperate attempt. As the god's fingers ran through Loren's hair, he growled, and refused to let his gaze slip away from Frey's (not that he had a choice). Instead, his eyes narrowed and he straightened his posture.
loren
