[ A small huff of breath slips free, almost without sound, and Locus's head tips back as he lets his eyes slide shut entirely. It's so much different than a finger, the pressure different, the feel of that warm, wet tongue wiggling its way inside. It feels vulgar in a way that twists in his gut, curls his toes, but it's good. So good.
The least he can do is take another deep breath and train himself to relax further, to let him in as far as he wants. ]
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The least he can do is take another deep breath and train himself to relax further, to let him in as far as he wants. ]