It would be an understatement to say that in anticipation of how long he might be kept this way, Gortash's jaw may pre-emptively ache. The way the Dark Urge relays that order but never stops watching him -- well, it says where his attention is. And inwardly the human is wondering what he might have to learn to do in order to trigger that with more purpose. He'd stumbled into it just now, partially led because he doubts that his keeper would have bothered with any of this at all if he were not already intending to go down this road.
And of course there is that surface-level ambition toward having something he might be able to use to his advantage, if he only understood it better. But there is a deeper part of him that sinks an ache into the pit of his stomach, that just wants the Dark Urge to keep looking at him like that.
The brush of a finger over his lips, and for half an instant, there are flashes of thoughts. Of responding to that gesture in kind with previews of what is likely to come. Promises to make good on what he had said he would be: grateful. Those are halted when his mouth is levered open. It takes a wincing moment to figure out what he is doing, and there's less resistance, then.
The command comes and a palm touches the back of the Dark Urge's. Oh, he intends to do that imminently. Feeling some of the tension there fall away before he tries to turn his head, pulling back enough to loose his jaw and closing his lips around his thumb. Careful with his teeth of course, a testing press and taste of his tongue before drawing back to free them both entirely.
He can do this. He already knows the position they are in makes for a slightly more comfortable foray -- even if the half-drow gets pushy. But given how things are looking, the larger man might let him do this his way and then save all those more forceful, brutish replies for what apparently comes later. Even with lubricant it might be just as unpleasant as his first night with him had been. But he'd survive it.
And he'll earn it, he supposes.
Enver won't fool himself into thinking he might be able to wear him out before they get to that. Last time had been a preview; he doubted the man had only one or even two in him.
He rises up a little taller on his knees, allows his hands to smooth along the Dark Urge's shapely sides and ease more folds of cloth out of the way before he sets to work, mouth and hands both.
no subject
And of course there is that surface-level ambition toward having something he might be able to use to his advantage, if he only understood it better. But there is a deeper part of him that sinks an ache into the pit of his stomach, that just wants the Dark Urge to keep looking at him like that.
The brush of a finger over his lips, and for half an instant, there are flashes of thoughts. Of responding to that gesture in kind with previews of what is likely to come. Promises to make good on what he had said he would be: grateful. Those are halted when his mouth is levered open. It takes a wincing moment to figure out what he is doing, and there's less resistance, then.
The command comes and a palm touches the back of the Dark Urge's. Oh, he intends to do that imminently. Feeling some of the tension there fall away before he tries to turn his head, pulling back enough to loose his jaw and closing his lips around his thumb. Careful with his teeth of course, a testing press and taste of his tongue before drawing back to free them both entirely.
He can do this. He already knows the position they are in makes for a slightly more comfortable foray -- even if the half-drow gets pushy. But given how things are looking, the larger man might let him do this his way and then save all those more forceful, brutish replies for what apparently comes later. Even with lubricant it might be just as unpleasant as his first night with him had been. But he'd survive it.
And he'll earn it, he supposes.
Enver won't fool himself into thinking he might be able to wear him out before they get to that. Last time had been a preview; he doubted the man had only one or even two in him.
He rises up a little taller on his knees, allows his hands to smooth along the Dark Urge's shapely sides and ease more folds of cloth out of the way before he sets to work, mouth and hands both.