[ The curl of her finger against the shell of his ear is warm and wet and delightful enough to send a shiver up his spine, send a heavy, needy tension into his gut, where it settles and grows. He holds back a sharp little exhale and settles (instead) for breathy laughter as she attacks him on two fronts. He can deal with this - with her - he's a warrior. The great Cu Chulain. The Hound of Ulster.
Even if he enjoys this. ]
You're my Master, aren't you? I have to obey.
[ There's still something taunting in the way he says that and the smile that shows off his teeth. He's still for her, though, letting her fingers wander and explore and undo the catch of his trousers. ]
no subject
Even if he enjoys this. ]
You're my Master, aren't you? I have to obey.
[ There's still something taunting in the way he says that and the smile that shows off his teeth. He's still for her, though, letting her fingers wander and explore and undo the catch of his trousers. ]
I can't complain. Even if I wanted to.