[He lets out a strangled moan as Ragnar bites into his shoulder, chest heaving in a mixture of pleasure and pain as the older man takes over. Somehow, fingering himself had felt just a shred more dignified than being fingered, and it comes with the rising sense of panic as the memories of Arzial's church push closer to the surface.
He lets out some phrase that sounds suspiciously like Latin, but not quite enough to be intelligible. It could almost be some sort of prayer. His knuckles are white where he's clutching the sheets now, his body nearly shaking with what could be anxiety or anticipation or both.
If he could just stop thinking about Arzial, it wouldn't be fucking terrifying... but with the moment so close at hand he can almost feel the fucking goat fur brushing against his skin, and hear the jeering laughter-]
Hurry the fuck up. [He mutters sharply, somewhere between a bark and a plea.]
no subject
He lets out some phrase that sounds suspiciously like Latin, but not quite enough to be intelligible. It could almost be some sort of prayer. His knuckles are white where he's clutching the sheets now, his body nearly shaking with what could be anxiety or anticipation or both.
If he could just stop thinking about Arzial, it wouldn't be fucking terrifying... but with the moment so close at hand he can almost feel the fucking goat fur brushing against his skin, and hear the jeering laughter-]
Hurry the fuck up. [He mutters sharply, somewhere between a bark and a plea.]