[And to think, this is all just 'hand stuff.' It's Waver's face and his actions here that will haunt Dylas in the middle of the night from time to time from now on, forcing him into the bathroom to jerk off. Jungle fever or not, he's not going to be able to forget these faces, these feelings, the sounds, and just how accidentally sexy this brat on top of him his.
But Dylas finally comes. His climax is preceded with a gasp, some squirming, his hips moving erratically and hungrily as his cock searches for that last bit of friction that he needs. He finds it. He arches himself, at the same time pushing down on Waver's back as his cock erupts between and on both of them. Given the size of it and how rarely he tends to it, there's no small amount of sticky mess between them, on Dylas' stomach, on Wavers', and on his hand.
He continues to thrust his hips as he rides it out, gasping, panting. Between his legs, his tail is twitching.]
no subject
But Dylas finally comes. His climax is preceded with a gasp, some squirming, his hips moving erratically and hungrily as his cock searches for that last bit of friction that he needs. He finds it. He arches himself, at the same time pushing down on Waver's back as his cock erupts between and on both of them. Given the size of it and how rarely he tends to it, there's no small amount of sticky mess between them, on Dylas' stomach, on Wavers', and on his hand.
He continues to thrust his hips as he rides it out, gasping, panting. Between his legs, his tail is twitching.]
Fuck. Waver. You feel so good—