[ Childe feasts like a man starved, and perhaps in a way he was. It brings to question the foreigner's claim about having whores and other pets to share his bed with, unless Childe just tended to go all in with every single one of them. It would not be the most surprising thing, given his general nature.
But no, the way he eats the brunet out is nothing short of reverent, devoted, hungry. There's an attentiveness to his motions when he pulls away, the blanket sliding down over his head and to his shoulders and granting him room to peek up at the effect he has on the foreigner. He catches the tense jaw and the tension in his thighs, eyes squeezed shut as though to ignore what it is Childe's doing to his body.
That's fine, though. If anything, perhaps that would make the foreigner feel what he was doing all the more.
Childe smiles against his skin and doubles down on the task at hand. His fingers grip into bruises over slim legs, keeping them squeezed around his head while he noses in and plunges his tongue in and out, feeling the rim stretch around the girth of it. He stabs wetly along the other's inner walls before curling his wet muscle and rolling it up along where he thinks the prostate to be, letting out a positively wrecked groan as though he's getting just as much pleasure from this as the foreigner doubtless is.
Wet, slick noises fill the room, interspersed with Childe's hungry murmurs and shuddering breaths as he continues to eat out the foreigner with more skill than one would expect from a murderous Harbinger. At some point he pulls away and runs the tip of his tongue over his rim, delving in just enough to tease along the edge of him before bobbing his head back down and shoving himself in all the way, granting his guest a sudden fullness and the sensation of wet swipes over his insides. ]
no subject
But no, the way he eats the brunet out is nothing short of reverent, devoted, hungry. There's an attentiveness to his motions when he pulls away, the blanket sliding down over his head and to his shoulders and granting him room to peek up at the effect he has on the foreigner. He catches the tense jaw and the tension in his thighs, eyes squeezed shut as though to ignore what it is Childe's doing to his body.
That's fine, though. If anything, perhaps that would make the foreigner feel what he was doing all the more.
Childe smiles against his skin and doubles down on the task at hand. His fingers grip into bruises over slim legs, keeping them squeezed around his head while he noses in and plunges his tongue in and out, feeling the rim stretch around the girth of it. He stabs wetly along the other's inner walls before curling his wet muscle and rolling it up along where he thinks the prostate to be, letting out a positively wrecked groan as though he's getting just as much pleasure from this as the foreigner doubtless is.
Wet, slick noises fill the room, interspersed with Childe's hungry murmurs and shuddering breaths as he continues to eat out the foreigner with more skill than one would expect from a murderous Harbinger. At some point he pulls away and runs the tip of his tongue over his rim, delving in just enough to tease along the edge of him before bobbing his head back down and shoving himself in all the way, granting his guest a sudden fullness and the sensation of wet swipes over his insides. ]