Skellig groans loudly at that image, obviously aroused by the thought in combination with the way she's moving against him.
"I would say...let them hear me," he laughs, low and dark. "I'd care not, what they would think of my cries."
It is for the best that for now, her fingers are out of his feathers, because she is already driving him closer and closer to his edge without even having to touch them. His breath hitches as she presses against a sensitive spot on his ribs, but it is pleasure, not pain.
"I am...I am not usually so vocal..." he stammers, though it is simply a statement, not an apology. And one that is cut off short by a loud groan that is pure pleasure and want mixed with lust, passion, and dozens of other things. She is making him feel so very good and he cannot stand it, his grasp on control slipping.
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"I would say...let them hear me," he laughs, low and dark. "I'd care not, what they would think of my cries."
It is for the best that for now, her fingers are out of his feathers, because she is already driving him closer and closer to his edge without even having to touch them. His breath hitches as she presses against a sensitive spot on his ribs, but it is pleasure, not pain.
"I am...I am not usually so vocal..." he stammers, though it is simply a statement, not an apology. And one that is cut off short by a loud groan that is pure pleasure and want mixed with lust, passion, and dozens of other things. She is making him feel so very good and he cannot stand it, his grasp on control slipping.