[ Rau isn’t going to tell him to stop, even though he’s increasingly realizing that he either overestimated his ability to compartmentalize pleasure as well as he did chronic pain or underestimated Gilbert Durandal’s capacity to be both methodical and shameless. Possibly both. He really should have just done this himself, shouldn’t have let himself get this vulnerable when Gil is still relatively clearheaded – but then there wouldn’t be that electric current building in his gut, or the contrast of cool air and warm lips on his neck. Rau’s hand at Gil’s sternum slides down and wraps around Gil’s cock again, stroking slow and loose in a bid to make this less one-sided. The nails at the small of Gil’s back dig in every time Gil’s fingers press in deepest, a cat’s claws kneading into skin by grasping reflex.
And eventually his heavy breaths turn into undisguised panting, and that panting catches in Rau’s throat and turns into rough, quiet groans. He gives up on getting Gil off and settles that hand on Gil’s thigh for balance instead. His grip is too tight to be pleasant, but he’s beginning to clench around Gil’s fingers, too, which suggests tight grip isn’t wholly intentional. ]
no subject
And eventually his heavy breaths turn into undisguised panting, and that panting catches in Rau’s throat and turns into rough, quiet groans. He gives up on getting Gil off and settles that hand on Gil’s thigh for balance instead. His grip is too tight to be pleasant, but he’s beginning to clench around Gil’s fingers, too, which suggests tight grip isn’t wholly intentional. ]