Nails gripping at the wood grain of his desk, each thrust seemed to push the piece of furniture across the stone flor, a small creek accompanying each. Even through the pain at his neck, or perhaps because of it, Faelyn was growing hard again under Ruth's hand, throbbing as he was fucked within an inch of his being. He was aware that he was being spoken to, but something about it didn't quite register, too focused on the overwhelming sensations rolling through his body. He was a man consumed in his need.
Interspersed through his moans were little yesses, his gray eyes wide and unseeing the windows behind his desk. As that pleasure began to build again, the archivist was aware that he was not the only one to feel that rising pressure.
Interspersed through his moans were little yesses, his gray eyes wide and unseeing the windows behind his desk. As that pleasure began to build again, the archivist was aware that he was not the only one to feel that rising pressure.
Yes, oh fuck, yes, Ruth. Please. Please.There was almost another's name found on his tongue, the names of those held far closer to his heart, replaced only at the last moment with the proper name. But the sentiment remained the same. He wanted to be used.
08-12-2023, 03:16 AM
