[All he can offer in response to that comment is a gentle, self-deprecating laugh. There are precious few people who could wrench such words out from his silvered tongue. Albert is used to speaking firmly and plainly, but not used to letting himself be such base filth. Yet with Ignis, it comes so easily. It's like breathing clean, crisp morning air, invigorating and right.
At the same time, he wants to drown in this man's lust and never come up again. If he could die in a moment like this, beloved and treasured and given over to someone who sees him for who and what he is and still loves, still cherishes, he wouldn't regret a thing. He's on his hands and knees for no one, but for Ignis it's simple. For Ignis, it's right. He watches Ignis behind him, eyes sharp and full of desperate need, sure he's going to take him more swiftly and beautifully savagely than ever before...
But then he lowers himself, his head, his sweet lips, and presses them to Albert's tight waiting hole so gently. A shiver shakes Albert as he watches, his cock twitching faintly toward some semblance of hardness while his ass clenches, then relaxes with each breath he takes. Those lips are warm, welcome, loving, and he keens when Ignis presses his tongue inside. This is filthy, but it is somehow what Albert needed... A reminder that he is wholly and completely adored by this man, and that he'll be taken not as some object of pity or scorn, but as a beloved, dearly treasured other half.
They are so alike, and so different, in all the ways that make them fit together neatly. There is perfection in their imperfection, even delight in their depravity, and that is familiar and comfortable to Albert, too. How he wants Ignis to hurt him, to unmake him again. But first, to be loved so sinfully sweetly...]
Ignis...
[He feels the slight wetness and warmth at his hole and his body responds so kindly, relaxing little by little there even as his spine tingles and his fingers curl against the bedsheets.]
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At the same time, he wants to drown in this man's lust and never come up again. If he could die in a moment like this, beloved and treasured and given over to someone who sees him for who and what he is and still loves, still cherishes, he wouldn't regret a thing. He's on his hands and knees for no one, but for Ignis it's simple. For Ignis, it's right. He watches Ignis behind him, eyes sharp and full of desperate need, sure he's going to take him more swiftly and beautifully savagely than ever before...
But then he lowers himself, his head, his sweet lips, and presses them to Albert's tight waiting hole so gently. A shiver shakes Albert as he watches, his cock twitching faintly toward some semblance of hardness while his ass clenches, then relaxes with each breath he takes. Those lips are warm, welcome, loving, and he keens when Ignis presses his tongue inside. This is filthy, but it is somehow what Albert needed... A reminder that he is wholly and completely adored by this man, and that he'll be taken not as some object of pity or scorn, but as a beloved, dearly treasured other half.
They are so alike, and so different, in all the ways that make them fit together neatly. There is perfection in their imperfection, even delight in their depravity, and that is familiar and comfortable to Albert, too. How he wants Ignis to hurt him, to unmake him again. But first, to be loved so sinfully sweetly...]
Ignis...
[He feels the slight wetness and warmth at his hole and his body responds so kindly, relaxing little by little there even as his spine tingles and his fingers curl against the bedsheets.]