[littl3chocobo]

there were no screams, no moans, no shaking or grunts or arches to tell him the lad had spilled his seed only a near inaudible intake of breath and a pervading warmth as the fabric that had halfway fallen back over pale thighs leached milky ichor. he stopped his caresses though he did not pull away from the hand or the neck, "my lord, what would please you?"