[He lets out a slow, heavy breath. Oh, fuck. Melitele. If only his hair wasn't raised on end already.]
And here I thought I was the only poet between us.
[Though happily it is not only a turn of phrase, because his hand meets plenty of wet trapped on her undergarments. (They're very nice, by the way. They could simply will them away -- the Horizon is for all sort of experiments, after all -- but Jaskier can't help but want to appreciate them for a little longer.)
Besides. They're not that in the way.
With her permission, two fingers slip beneath the cloth, following the wet to her core. Not the clit, not yet -- he is a gentleman, of course -- but he strokes around it, gentle and teasing, while his head tips up to kiss her.]
for a man who fucks I sure don't get to have any sex icons
And here I thought I was the only poet between us.
[Though happily it is not only a turn of phrase, because his hand meets plenty of wet trapped on her undergarments. (They're very nice, by the way. They could simply will them away -- the Horizon is for all sort of experiments, after all -- but Jaskier can't help but want to appreciate them for a little longer.)
Besides. They're not that in the way.
With her permission, two fingers slip beneath the cloth, following the wet to her core. Not the clit, not yet -- he is a gentleman, of course -- but he strokes around it, gentle and teasing, while his head tips up to kiss her.]