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Summary
“I was thinking about this today,” Clorinde begins, cheeks darkening with the thought she becomes lost within. “I’ve been watching you build this body, and helping you along the way for so long, that I sometimes forget how much I love taking you apart.” The earnest smile she gives him sends heat rushing down his abdomen, he can almost feel himself gush in response.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes to ground himself before his body starts to float away. Salivating at the thought, he abandons whatever he was thinking of and crosses the bed in one fluid movement, taking Clorinde by the hips and kneeling before her. “You can say that again.”
Or: Sometimes Clorinde forgets how much she loves taking Wriothesley apart. Trans joy, good boys and tears from the world's best bottom.