One hand snakes up Syrlya's back, fingers coming to entwine with the stems of his hair at the back of his head, and the other rests at the back of the opposite hip, holding him closer, tighter. He leans into him, over him, and not once is he worried about him bending too far, or too hard, because in this moment he trusts Syrlya and every emotion from Syrlya that feeds into him. This is right.
Syrlya pulls back for air, and for the briefest moment, Trahearne's eyes languidly peel open, dragging up from his lips to his eyes. If Syrlya is ready or not, it doesn't matter--he gives him one, deep kiss before his speaks, the intensity of the passion in his eyes boring through Syrlya's.
There is gravel in his whisper, barely masked desire bubbling through the wanting. ]
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One hand snakes up Syrlya's back, fingers coming to entwine with the stems of his hair at the back of his head, and the other rests at the back of the opposite hip, holding him closer, tighter. He leans into him, over him, and not once is he worried about him bending too far, or too hard, because in this moment he trusts Syrlya and every emotion from Syrlya that feeds into him. This is right.
Syrlya pulls back for air, and for the briefest moment, Trahearne's eyes languidly peel open, dragging up from his lips to his eyes. If Syrlya is ready or not, it doesn't matter--he gives him one, deep kiss before his speaks, the intensity of the passion in his eyes boring through Syrlya's.
There is gravel in his whisper, barely masked desire bubbling through the wanting. ]
Stay with me.