[Underneath the weight of Oliver's gaze, he pushes his finger inside himself and a gasp rises from his parting lips. He soon follows with another finger, slowly stretching himself. He works with the same finesse that he has treated many men to, and once he is ready to thrust his fingers in a languid rhythm, stroking his inner wall, seeking that sweet spot, he makes a show of how he enjoys himself.
His fingers curl in the blankets. His hips rock against his hand to help himself reach deeper. His head falls back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. From his lips stretches a groan. At this steady but torturous pace, his desire for Oliver, his need for another's touch, is soon growing unbearable.]
How do you want to take me?
[He looks at Oliver through his long eyelashes, his words carried on heavy breaths, his fingers not yet pausing.]
no subject
His fingers curl in the blankets. His hips rock against his hand to help himself reach deeper. His head falls back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. From his lips stretches a groan. At this steady but torturous pace, his desire for Oliver, his need for another's touch, is soon growing unbearable.]
How do you want to take me?
[He looks at Oliver through his long eyelashes, his words carried on heavy breaths, his fingers not yet pausing.]