( mat is reassured by each and every move that milo makes, the reassuring squeeze of his hand in return that assuages his nerves from fumbling with his clothes, the soft, tender brush of lips against knuckles that tell him that everything is okay. those very same lips meet his own only moments later, almost a surprise, but it's a welcome one, mouth pliable as he can feel milo pressing closer to him and — oh — )
Milo —
( it's gasped against the other boy's lips as his other hand wraps around his length, strokes him slowly, the sensation unlike anything he's ever felt; there's a little friction, but milo's hand slides easier against him as that precome coats his fingers. it's overwhelming — it's completely overwhelming — but milo touches him so slowly, so carefully, that mat is able to let that surprise give way to how good it feels, a heat bubbling low in his stomach that contrasts so sharply with the snowflakes that fall more insistently now from seemingly nowhere.
i wanna make you feel good, milo murmurs, and were mat coherent, he'd steal kiss after kiss until he could hardly breathe any longer, pant against his mouth as his heart races, and tell him again and again and again how good he's making him feel right now, every nerve ending alight, sparking more intensely by the moment.
it still doesn't prepare him for the feeling of milo's tongue, warm and hot and wet, dragging against the head of his cock, tasting him, licking him slowly, taking his time with mat ... and a sound escapes him, starting something like a moan and trailing off into a low whine, chin tipped backwards and lashes fluttered closed, his fingers squeezing milo's hand so tightly he may never be able to let go. there are about an infinite number of things that mathias wants to say, but his thoughts race endlessly, practically incomprehensible. but he wants to try, has to try, and it ends up manifesting in a soft, stammered: ) Milo, Milo, please, that feels so — I'm so — you're incredible —
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sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2019-05-05 01:35 am (UTC)Milo —
( it's gasped against the other boy's lips as his other hand wraps around his length, strokes him slowly, the sensation unlike anything he's ever felt; there's a little friction, but milo's hand slides easier against him as that precome coats his fingers. it's overwhelming — it's completely overwhelming — but milo touches him so slowly, so carefully, that mat is able to let that surprise give way to how good it feels, a heat bubbling low in his stomach that contrasts so sharply with the snowflakes that fall more insistently now from seemingly nowhere.
i wanna make you feel good, milo murmurs, and were mat coherent, he'd steal kiss after kiss until he could hardly breathe any longer, pant against his mouth as his heart races, and tell him again and again and again how good he's making him feel right now, every nerve ending alight, sparking more intensely by the moment.
it still doesn't prepare him for the feeling of milo's tongue, warm and hot and wet, dragging against the head of his cock, tasting him, licking him slowly, taking his time with mat ... and a sound escapes him, starting something like a moan and trailing off into a low whine, chin tipped backwards and lashes fluttered closed, his fingers squeezing milo's hand so tightly he may never be able to let go. there are about an infinite number of things that mathias wants to say, but his thoughts race endlessly, practically incomprehensible. but he wants to try, has to try, and it ends up manifesting in a soft, stammered: ) Milo, Milo, please, that feels so — I'm so — you're incredible —