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Summary
He feels a touch of warm, slightly rough fingers, tracing the drops of water flowing down his skin, and it is also pleasant, really pleasant. Not just the touch itself, but the sense that someone is touching him as if they have every right to, without question. Just a filthy scoundrel, yet places hand on his knee without hesitation, then slowly slides it upwards, towards the inside of his thigh. “Yes, please, touch me more…” Librus thinks, though he can’t imagine saying something like that out loud. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to, because this idiot seems to understand it intuitively too.
Anxiety & fluff & retrospections & sex & feelings & more anxiety & more sex & fellings in the end. Oh well.
Series
- Part 2 of Short Smuts