[There is so much stimulation at once, the shaft of him disappearing into the salarian's body, slick wet muscle closing around him. It's different than anything he'd experienced. Anything he's felt around him -- this is the first cloaca he's slipped into, and it's a thought that makes his toes curl, intrigue and pleasure intermingling. Thane struggles to keep his composure, watching the spread of colourful flesh as Mordin slides against his hips, draws him in.
The broken laugh cuts through, and Thane's gaze first lifts toward Mordin's face, at the haze in his expression. It's the most undone he's ever seen the doctor and it sends a prickle of excitement through his lower body. More base parts of himself that revel in how deeply he can pull another being apart. And then he lifts his head, glances back over his shoulder at his lover. A glimpse of him is all he's afforded before the very familiar sensation of Garrus' cock presses up against his backside, the taut hole made damp and soft from their union only moments ago.
Thane tips his head forward again, teeth grazing his own lip as Garrus works into his body, and the momentum has him arching up into Mordin's as well. A sharp breath, the shudder of a tensed spine, the way his eyes slide shut -- it's all on the surface, and his hands are quaking slightly as he grasps at Mordin's form. There is so much assaulting his senses at once that he can scarcely breathe, and on the second exhale a breathy noise he hadn't intended falls just as easily from his throat. So much of it beckons him to lose control, to rock his hips forward and drown, feel himself speared at the same time, filled to the point of bursting. Not yet, he has to remind himself. It's the anticipation that he knows that free reign will come soon -- that's what leaves him struggling for a mental foothold.]
no subject
The broken laugh cuts through, and Thane's gaze first lifts toward Mordin's face, at the haze in his expression. It's the most undone he's ever seen the doctor and it sends a prickle of excitement through his lower body. More base parts of himself that revel in how deeply he can pull another being apart. And then he lifts his head, glances back over his shoulder at his lover. A glimpse of him is all he's afforded before the very familiar sensation of Garrus' cock presses up against his backside, the taut hole made damp and soft from their union only moments ago.
Thane tips his head forward again, teeth grazing his own lip as Garrus works into his body, and the momentum has him arching up into Mordin's as well. A sharp breath, the shudder of a tensed spine, the way his eyes slide shut -- it's all on the surface, and his hands are quaking slightly as he grasps at Mordin's form. There is so much assaulting his senses at once that he can scarcely breathe, and on the second exhale a breathy noise he hadn't intended falls just as easily from his throat. So much of it beckons him to lose control, to rock his hips forward and drown, feel himself speared at the same time, filled to the point of bursting. Not yet, he has to remind himself. It's the anticipation that he knows that free reign will come soon -- that's what leaves him struggling for a mental foothold.]