"You might," Kavinsky said, words slurred against Proko, "but your cunt doesn't."
He bent, more aggressive in the way that he was using his tongue and mouth against him, happy to keep him trapped and tangled up in his jeans the way that he was. After all, Kavinsky had access to everything like this. Proko didn't need to do anything but lay there and be filthy and marvelous.
He slipped two fingers in, all at once. Proko was certainly slick enough for it. The noise of it was remarkable and beautiful. This was the only boy he could do this for (including some inconsistent encounters with magic swapping people's sex in Darrow), and Proko knew it.
no subject
He bent, more aggressive in the way that he was using his tongue and mouth against him, happy to keep him trapped and tangled up in his jeans the way that he was. After all, Kavinsky had access to everything like this. Proko didn't need to do anything but lay there and be filthy and marvelous.
He slipped two fingers in, all at once. Proko was certainly slick enough for it. The noise of it was remarkable and beautiful. This was the only boy he could do this for (including some inconsistent encounters with magic swapping people's sex in Darrow), and Proko knew it.