sololoquy: (people talking without speaking)
ĸylo ren ([personal profile] sololoquy) wrote 2018-03-09 12:02 am (UTC)

[Her voice breaks the steady circle of his thoughts, his hand stroking his length firmly between his legs once --

The touch almost startles him off the bed, the action aborted by his own hand as he ends up gripping himself tighter and swallowing down the sudden bruise he feels settling on his ego and his pride. The exhale he takes is shallow -- the weight of her chin is heavy, and offers warmth where there had previously been none.

Somewhere between the touch and her question, he had squeezed his eyes shut. But they open again slowly, and he is forced to confront that he isn't dreaming. She's there, and she isn't, solid as he suddenly remembers the last time they had gotten this close to each other.]


No one.

[You're nothing.

Its not quite the dagger he wants it to be. He'd said that to her once, but he'd meant it in a way that was supposed to communicate kinship, and thus it rings hollow in any other capacity. There is an urge to reach for her, and a fear that she might not be there if he does.

He pulls his hand back down across himself, tighter and slower this time, enough to cause his breath to catch when the cool air catches the head of his cock exposed.]

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