Wolf. He's momentarily reminded that there's context outside of this moment they're sharing together. The whole reason he's donning a mask to begin with is so he can slip in as anonymously as everybody else not immediately outing themselves. That it's a wolf seemed incredibly fitting, and he'd been darkly amused by the symbolism. On the nose perhaps, but the inside joke he's sure hasn't been lost on his companion.
He is the wolf hunting lambs for the slaughter in this city.
"Deep inside you, where it belongs," is the growl of a response, and if Enver means to speed things up, it's certainly working.
As much as he'd like to keep the other man speared on his fingers and at his mercy, the thick interest pushing against the fabric of his own trousers won't allow it. Perhaps there's a mote of punishment in the fact that it isn't the digits that are inside Enver that return to tug his own trousers down.
Fingers pry trousers open and hook a thumb into the fabric just enough that eventually his cock springs free, tip catching against the round of Enver's delicious left buttock. All the while two fingers slide into the tightening channel towards the other man's core, and it soon becomes apparent that there's another game going on here. One that is intended to have a thrill of panic lance through the smaller man against the wall. The thick tip of his cock rubs up against the very space he has those duo of digits lodged, teasing as though maybe he intends to try fitting it all in one.
"Can you resist the urge?" He asks and it doesn't pass him by that the question is just as darkly amusing as the wolf comment. If the wolf is invited in, there has to be some expectation of savagery. Of brutality for the sake of sating a primal need. With the tip of his cock held at the already prepared - but not by this much - hole, he uses his free hand to slick the rest of his shaft up with the residual oil from earlier.
"Can you stop yourself from screaming when I stuff you this full?" His voice is an impossible mix of silky and rough, his hand now anchoring at the man's hip, grip easily firm enough to leave evidence.
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He is the wolf hunting lambs for the slaughter in this city.
"Deep inside you, where it belongs," is the growl of a response, and if Enver means to speed things up, it's certainly working.
As much as he'd like to keep the other man speared on his fingers and at his mercy, the thick interest pushing against the fabric of his own trousers won't allow it. Perhaps there's a mote of punishment in the fact that it isn't the digits that are inside Enver that return to tug his own trousers down.
Fingers pry trousers open and hook a thumb into the fabric just enough that eventually his cock springs free, tip catching against the round of Enver's delicious left buttock. All the while two fingers slide into the tightening channel towards the other man's core, and it soon becomes apparent that there's another game going on here. One that is intended to have a thrill of panic lance through the smaller man against the wall. The thick tip of his cock rubs up against the very space he has those duo of digits lodged, teasing as though maybe he intends to try fitting it all in one.
"Can you resist the urge?" He asks and it doesn't pass him by that the question is just as darkly amusing as the wolf comment. If the wolf is invited in, there has to be some expectation of savagery. Of brutality for the sake of sating a primal need. With the tip of his cock held at the already prepared - but not by this much - hole, he uses his free hand to slick the rest of his shaft up with the residual oil from earlier.
"Can you stop yourself from screaming when I stuff you this full?" His voice is an impossible mix of silky and rough, his hand now anchoring at the man's hip, grip easily firm enough to leave evidence.