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Summary
Eli took a shaky breath, his skin on fire again, cock hard and leaking. “Naib,” he croaked. His throat felt dry as a desert. “Please.”
Eli felt the other man turn his attention to mark his neck, “please Naib. Please make me yours.”
He could feel the man’s erection, taut, fabric bulging out with the weight of his tent cock, pressing against his thighs. Eli can feel it pulsate at his words, and his knees felt weak as he dropped to the ground, in between the man’s thighs. “Please,” Eli’s voice felt foreign to himself, light, and full of a sort of desire he never felt before. Naib is right there, his hands now resting on top of his head, and he distantly could feel the man’s warm breath still tingling the skin that was dampened by his tongue. Eli gives a breathy whimper when the man slowly grasps his hair.