The Written Word

He could feel the pressure build at the base of his spine, he release coming with a deep groan from his chest. Had he not been held in place, he wouldn't have been able to help the rocking of his hips as the tingling sensation spread over him, leaving him utterly breathless for a moment and looking up at the ceiling like he was looking up at stars, trying to come back to himself. Somewhere along the line, he'd nearly forgotten wheat it was like to lose himself so completely, but that was a matter for a different time. 

Fuck... was all the eloquence he could muster, Faelyn hardly one to cuss, but in the moment, he didn't seem to care. Allowing himself to be caught up in his kiss, the rutting of his hips enough to drive him mad all over again, even if he'd begun to soften in the meantime. Everyone needed a chance to recover after all. A delicate hand blindly reached for the small pot of oil, dragging it within easy reach, a subtle reminder that he would indeed need care.