"A sixth." He'll give easily, especially when it earns him those slow, too careful breaths that speak of growing certainty. The banter at this point is idle and automatic- not the usual pillow talk for Alistair is not the usual lover. No praise, no scorn, no empty words. Teasing in a way that might be mean. Tangled this close and easy he can hear the moment when Alistair overwhelms himself with possibilities- and takes no little pleasure in grinding his hips back to be even more distracting.
Does he want?
"That much should be obvious." Crackling and breathless. "I want. Quite a bit, in fact."
Many options available to them, smirking against Alistair's lips and he shifts his legs apart enough to hitch here, reaches down to adjust there- no oil to smooth the way but his thighs can offer Alistair something to rut against just as he strokes him. "This. I want this."
no subject
Does he want?
"That much should be obvious." Crackling and breathless. "I want. Quite a bit, in fact."
Many options available to them, smirking against Alistair's lips and he shifts his legs apart enough to hitch here, reaches down to adjust there- no oil to smooth the way but his thighs can offer Alistair something to rut against just as he strokes him. "This. I want this."