Duplicity IC Inbox

[worcestershiresauce]

Sorry, I'm away on a tea break. Leave a note and I'll get back to you when I'm done.

Comments

dumb. in love. YUH

[bruxing]

Yeah. Just like-- fuck, you little shit!

[Not angrily, though. Surprised, then playful, or-- as playful as Satan can sound when his face stays deadpan in that inhuman mask of rage, and his voice has been run through about a million filters until it's echoing and heavy. He figures he's allowed to be pleasantly surprised by that bite, though, and hopefully for the brief tummy-up interlude, he's allowed a quick tummy rub.

If one meaty, vascular wrist should brush against Wriothesley's cock during said tummy rub time, then all's the better.]

You're so fuckin' cute, I could kill someone right now...! Lemme make it easier so it's not you, alright? Lick my fingers a bit, make me imagine it's my dick instead.

[Indeed, one thick digit presses against Wriothesley's maw at that, not pushing in, not forcing, just waiting to be embraced. He'll be as patient as he can be, for this special case; even if that's...Not very fucking patient at all, the effort's still being put in, for sure.]