[ oh how much he’d allow it, taking the reigns from eren alone is sufficient enough to throw his head back, a groan too full and even crude for a place unguarded by the walls of a room. the most of eren’s help comes from the way he arches to meet mikleo’s slides, hands on his hips and at most offering momentum to boost his bounces— he won’t get exhausted too quickly, that way, and is given all the freedom we wanted to do what he well intended. his bonded would simply follow along, and adapt his aid to his shifts.
there is something tremendously different when eren has less control. it messes with his senses and levels his pleasure. perhaps it was not specifically the lack of control— it was seeing, feeling mikleo do what he wanted as well.
it was a duet, a chorus, the way eren forgets his words and only gives up the melody of sound, of emotion at a primal and easy language to decipher. hoarse moans, souls bound up tightly together. one was the other, for seconds, and every millisecond of the rise and fall of ecstacy’s build up was all the more savage.
eren’s hands go from mikleo’s hips to his ass eventually, the curves filling his palm and bouncing with the cadence his bonded choses. if it’s wet between them, its wetter when eren dribbles precum into him, unseen with their movement but felt searingly with every tight-ringed pump around his cock. eren almost hurled himself back, flattening his back against the ground and allowing their bodies to accustom naturally.
god fuck shit ride him to hell and back. ]
What you want—! [ he wants that, too. it drives him up walls and make him feel like he’s going to come (when it just adds to a climax yet to come, and a grand one). ]
no subject
there is something tremendously different when eren has less control. it messes with his senses and levels his pleasure. perhaps it was not specifically the lack of control— it was seeing, feeling mikleo do what he wanted as well.
it was a duet, a chorus, the way eren forgets his words and only gives up the melody of sound, of emotion at a primal and easy language to decipher. hoarse moans, souls bound up tightly together. one was the other, for seconds, and every millisecond of the rise and fall of ecstacy’s build up was all the more savage.
eren’s hands go from mikleo’s hips to his ass eventually, the curves filling his palm and bouncing with the cadence his bonded choses. if it’s wet between them, its wetter when eren dribbles precum into him, unseen with their movement but felt searingly with every tight-ringed pump around his cock. eren almost hurled himself back, flattening his back against the ground and allowing their bodies to accustom naturally.
god fuck shit ride him to hell and back. ]
What you want—! [ he wants that, too. it drives him up walls and make him feel like he’s going to come (when it just adds to a climax yet to come, and a grand one). ]