[ His thighs are shaking. It's subtle, but still noticable, the faint tremor as the next noise comes easier, unhindered, hitched and near-pained until York presses deep and curls tight.
He doesn't even recognize the cry that escapes as his own. So he doesn't think of stopping it. Doesn't think of anything but the bite of those teeth and the rush of heat like an electric current up his spine, and yes. He's definitely hard right now. ]
York...
[ The name comes out slurred, a slip. Wrong name, sort of, not what he wants but what's there in the forefront of his mind to be grasped. ]
no subject
He doesn't even recognize the cry that escapes as his own. So he doesn't think of stopping it. Doesn't think of anything but the bite of those teeth and the rush of heat like an electric current up his spine, and yes. He's definitely hard right now. ]
York...
[ The name comes out slurred, a slip. Wrong name, sort of, not what he wants but what's there in the forefront of his mind to be grasped. ]