[ Enticing as that vague shape had already been to Urianger's imagination, its response to his hand's abrading touch casts an even stronger spell over him. Unavoidably, his mind thinks back to the last time they did this, to the feeling of Thancred's member in his mouth and his hands brushing back his hair from his face and the captivating sounds the self-claimed bard sang for him — and then, what came after...
No. One of those same noises is what brings Urianger back from his brief reverie. He opens his eyes in time to meet Thancred's gaze and it seems that their minds, for a rarity, are perfectly aligned. The wordless request to deepen their kiss is accepted, and Urianger meets Thancred's tongue with his own, although he's clearly conceding the space past his lips to the Hyur if he wants to explore it.
He's fully occupied with exploration of his own. Don't stop, he was told, but he has no intention of stopping now unless ordered to, and Urianger knows that Thancred would much sooner order him to do many other things than to stop. His broad palm strokes up the hard length, gliding smoothly against the soft surface of the fabric. He doesn't intend to tease him, but he does not entirely realize that taking his time has exactly that effect. Further distracting is the way Thancred braces his legs against the side of the desk to buck against his hand, which makes Urianger's mind wander to lewder activities and his face flush hot all over again.
Somehow, these trousers must come off. Flustered and addled as he is by Thancred's expert mouth, and even further by his own growing need trapped behind his gray underskirt and smallclothes, Urianger fumbles to unbuckle his belt. He manages that, somehow, but then there's the buttons and zipper beneath to wrangle. ]
and very very sorry for my delay!!! ToT
No. One of those same noises is what brings Urianger back from his brief reverie. He opens his eyes in time to meet Thancred's gaze and it seems that their minds, for a rarity, are perfectly aligned. The wordless request to deepen their kiss is accepted, and Urianger meets Thancred's tongue with his own, although he's clearly conceding the space past his lips to the Hyur if he wants to explore it.
He's fully occupied with exploration of his own. Don't stop, he was told, but he has no intention of stopping now unless ordered to, and Urianger knows that Thancred would much sooner order him to do many other things than to stop. His broad palm strokes up the hard length, gliding smoothly against the soft surface of the fabric. He doesn't intend to tease him, but he does not entirely realize that taking his time has exactly that effect. Further distracting is the way Thancred braces his legs against the side of the desk to buck against his hand, which makes Urianger's mind wander to lewder activities and his face flush hot all over again.
Somehow, these trousers must come off. Flustered and addled as he is by Thancred's expert mouth, and even further by his own growing need trapped behind his gray underskirt and smallclothes, Urianger fumbles to unbuckle his belt. He manages that, somehow, but then there's the buttons and zipper beneath to wrangle. ]