[ his kiss is hungry, deep - - almost vicious with how much teeth are involved, knocking messily against Emet-Selch's own, as he ruts up towards him, seeking the friction from both the movement inside of him and the touch to his cock.

as always, his hands wander, sometimes skimming light over the chest scar and then scraping rough nails down his sides and what he can reach of his back, unafraid of leaving sharp red lines in their wake. ]