[The taste increases, and Beelzebub moans against him with a heated exhale through his nose. The chiding does get his touch to migrate, readjusting himself to run his claws against the back of Temenos's thigh in a repetitive, almost milking motion against muscle and fat and fabric alike, coaxing and kneading.
All the while, his other hand lifts up to grip Temenos's nearest arm by the elbow, urging it down, threading their fingers as he guides that touch to bury in his hair with enough pressure to his skull to show what he wants.
His tongue relaxes, teeth scraping the growing swell in his mouth, the taste of his blood so close and so tempting to take. But it's not the flavor he's after.
His mouth cushions as he sucks down hard, a deep swallowing as though he's trying to urge Temenos to his completion. And again. And again.
Fuck his mouth, Temenos. Feed his hunger, Temenos.]
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All the while, his other hand lifts up to grip Temenos's nearest arm by the elbow, urging it down, threading their fingers as he guides that touch to bury in his hair with enough pressure to his skull to show what he wants.
His tongue relaxes, teeth scraping the growing swell in his mouth, the taste of his blood so close and so tempting to take. But it's not the flavor he's after.
His mouth cushions as he sucks down hard, a deep swallowing as though he's trying to urge Temenos to his completion. And again. And again.
Fuck his mouth, Temenos. Feed his hunger, Temenos.]