[He's really not the skirts type — more at home taking a detour under them himself than wearing them firsthand, to be sure — but it's hard not to see the unique appeal of the sight it makes: Reno on his knees, costume in disarray, shoving the long drape of fabric just enough out of the way to be able to go after what he wants. And fuck, a part of him had thought he'd just go all in right from the start, just open those pretty lips obscenely wide and make a show of swallowing him down, but the truth is this is even better. He's not one to demur in the face of a little delayed gratification, after all.
What he does do, though, is shift his weight — just a little, not enough to really move away, but enough to work one slippered foot between Reno's knees in a way that makes his leg extend out a fraction. See how generous he is even to the bastard on his knees mouthing his cock like it's a favorite toy; he'll even proffer up a bit of calf to grind on if he wants some friction while he works.]
Wicked white —
[He's not one for overt tells, but even Thancred's not controlled enough to disguise them from a guy who's not even an ilm away from where they're happening; it's the attention to the head that produces the most visible of his already-subdued reactions, that make the muscles in his abdomen flex and tighten, make him lean harder against the bracing hand on the wall because his knees beneath the skirt just had a tremor run through them.
It's not that he doesn't like it hard and fast. It's not even that he doesn't want it that way. But tenderness disproportionate to the filth of the moment is what seems to be the common denominator of the moments when he twitches — something about the affection shakes him.
At the very least, it makes him dig his free hand into Reno's hair, gripping into a solid hold that's undeniably practiced — like he knows how to apply tension that pulls without yanking — and makes him look up from his efforts.]
no subject
What he does do, though, is shift his weight — just a little, not enough to really move away, but enough to work one slippered foot between Reno's knees in a way that makes his leg extend out a fraction. See how generous he is even to the bastard on his knees mouthing his cock like it's a favorite toy; he'll even proffer up a bit of calf to grind on if he wants some friction while he works.]
Wicked white —
[He's not one for overt tells, but even Thancred's not controlled enough to disguise them from a guy who's not even an ilm away from where they're happening; it's the attention to the head that produces the most visible of his already-subdued reactions, that make the muscles in his abdomen flex and tighten, make him lean harder against the bracing hand on the wall because his knees beneath the skirt just had a tremor run through them.
It's not that he doesn't like it hard and fast. It's not even that he doesn't want it that way. But tenderness disproportionate to the filth of the moment is what seems to be the common denominator of the moments when he twitches — something about the affection shakes him.
At the very least, it makes him dig his free hand into Reno's hair, gripping into a solid hold that's undeniably practiced — like he knows how to apply tension that pulls without yanking — and makes him look up from his efforts.]
Having fun?