Lord. [Almighty, not Blanc, although Blanc may as well be a god to him too.] You are beautiful.
[The younger man moves easily under his hands, thrusting at a tentative pace into his palms, into his...mouth? Just the very sight of his tongue on his most personal affect makes Orange feel overcome with something far stronger than any spirit. It threatens to destroy his restraint in expressing his want.]
We cannot let you...do all the work.
[Orange pants. At first his hands need the guiding, but once they're upon Blanc's blade they move on their own. Up and down, tight and smooth, twisting in different directions as the brightly youthful face becomes a little more predatory. For this, Alfred Newendyke does know how to do.]
no subject
[The younger man moves easily under his hands, thrusting at a tentative pace into his palms, into his...mouth? Just the very sight of his tongue on his most personal affect makes Orange feel overcome with something far stronger than any spirit. It threatens to destroy his restraint in expressing his want.]
We cannot let you...do all the work.
[Orange pants. At first his hands need the guiding, but once they're upon Blanc's blade they move on their own. Up and down, tight and smooth, twisting in different directions as the brightly youthful face becomes a little more predatory. For this, Alfred Newendyke does know how to do.]