Before Jesper, Sylvain wouldn't think losing himself so deeply in this was even something he was capable of. It was safer to be in control and there were few partners he had trusted to relinquish that to. Jesper had been different right from the start, though. There was so much Sylvain recognized in what was reflected back at him, even if it was in a different way.
So he lets Jesper drive him wherever he wants, matching him with every thrust, every kiss, driving heat against heat so they could spiral together. Arms wind around Jesper's shoulders as he presses close, a curse slipping free at the sharp bite to his lips, the friction against his cock trapped between them as Jesper draws him closer.
"I do." Trust him. His thoughts are disjointed enough right now that he's not sure anything he does say in response to Jesper's encouraging actually comes out as coherent. He tries, though, because Jesper wanted it.
What falls from his lips is a mix of pleading, cursing, and the occasional dip into the sort of filthy things he wants to do to Jesper, or have Jesper do to him. It comes with a surprising ease and not a hint of shame or hesitation. Not that he possesses much of that to begin with. But as much as he loves when Jesper gives him this, he does his best to return it, even if Jesper fucking him like this is so distracting. It just means that Sylvain's voiced fantasies about Jesper, about his cock, his mouth, may venture far more into the obscene than he'd normally delve into.
And of course he allows Jesper anything, that tight grip and sharp yank to his hair dragging a breathless keen from him, especially when it has his back arching enough to shift the angle just enough to be even more maddening with the next sink of his body onto Jesper's cock. The man's mouth on his throat is just the start of it and that punishing pace is perfect, sending pleasure so sharply through him that there's no more time for thinking, only feeling, mind blissed out in the blinding whiteness of pleasure, of the desperate need for everything Jesper gives him. Everything he can give back, his rhythm lost and driven only by that mounting need now. Nails rake lightly against the back of Jesper's head, down his neck, as Sylvain clings to him, body tightening, clenching, trembling as he teeters on that edge.
And then Jesper goes back to talking again, now especially when words have completely failed him. Fingers stroke against his already leaking cock and the combined stimulation is too much for him. Muscles tremble and clench tightly as he spills over Jesper's fingers with a breathless cry half-formed into Jesper's name. Body shivering and jolting from the intensity of it, fingers curl against Jesper's shoulders as the orgasm spills out of him, blinding in its intensity.
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So he lets Jesper drive him wherever he wants, matching him with every thrust, every kiss, driving heat against heat so they could spiral together. Arms wind around Jesper's shoulders as he presses close, a curse slipping free at the sharp bite to his lips, the friction against his cock trapped between them as Jesper draws him closer.
"I do." Trust him. His thoughts are disjointed enough right now that he's not sure anything he does say in response to Jesper's encouraging actually comes out as coherent. He tries, though, because Jesper wanted it.
What falls from his lips is a mix of pleading, cursing, and the occasional dip into the sort of filthy things he wants to do to Jesper, or have Jesper do to him. It comes with a surprising ease and not a hint of shame or hesitation. Not that he possesses much of that to begin with. But as much as he loves when Jesper gives him this, he does his best to return it, even if Jesper fucking him like this is so distracting. It just means that Sylvain's voiced fantasies about Jesper, about his cock, his mouth, may venture far more into the obscene than he'd normally delve into.
And of course he allows Jesper anything, that tight grip and sharp yank to his hair dragging a breathless keen from him, especially when it has his back arching enough to shift the angle just enough to be even more maddening with the next sink of his body onto Jesper's cock. The man's mouth on his throat is just the start of it and that punishing pace is perfect, sending pleasure so sharply through him that there's no more time for thinking, only feeling, mind blissed out in the blinding whiteness of pleasure, of the desperate need for everything Jesper gives him. Everything he can give back, his rhythm lost and driven only by that mounting need now. Nails rake lightly against the back of Jesper's head, down his neck, as Sylvain clings to him, body tightening, clenching, trembling as he teeters on that edge.
And then Jesper goes back to talking again, now especially when words have completely failed him. Fingers stroke against his already leaking cock and the combined stimulation is too much for him. Muscles tremble and clench tightly as he spills over Jesper's fingers with a breathless cry half-formed into Jesper's name. Body shivering and jolting from the intensity of it, fingers curl against Jesper's shoulders as the orgasm spills out of him, blinding in its intensity.