[The sound sends a full-body shudder through him, even without being able to understand the words. He lifts his head and pants quietly at Fenris's temple, hands fisted in the thin sheets at his shoulder. There's no reason his heart should be hammering this way against his rib cage, but so it is. He feels scrambled, cut adrift, like his mind will never be able to catch up with what his hands are doing— what his mouth is doing— unless he slows down, stops, pauses, anything. But he feels cracked open and fragile, like stopping might shatter it, this. He'll think later. He'll be horrified at himself later.
For now, Fenris's skin is warm, and freedom is what you make of it.]
Tell me. [Murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. Another kiss, lingering at Fenris's jaw.] Tell me what you want.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-03-07 07:20 pm (UTC)For now, Fenris's skin is warm, and freedom is what you make of it.]
Tell me. [Murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. Another kiss, lingering at Fenris's jaw.] Tell me what you want.
[It is want, now. Not need.]