[ He hadn't expected Fjord to keep his hips still for long, but the way he starts fucking forward into his fist, like he just can't help himself--gods, that's hot. Fjord rocks in his lap, grinding along Caleb's cock. The bright-sharp sting of his hair being tugged, of hard nails through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the sound of Fjord groaning his name has Caleb gasping raggedly, more aroused than he can remember being in a long, long time. His hips might jump too if they weren't pinned beneath Fjord. ]
Sehr gut, sehr gut. You are so incredible, Fjord.
[ He's barely thinking about the praise he gives, just that Fjord deserves it. Indulgently, he finds a pattern to stroke in time with the hitch of Fjord's hips, letting him grind those ridges against his palm. His other hand still plays more delicately, rough fingertips cupped around the thick head while his thumb rubs deliberately beneath the crown, hoping to encourage more of the precome proimisingly welling at the tip. ]
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Sehr gut, sehr gut. You are so incredible, Fjord.
[ He's barely thinking about the praise he gives, just that Fjord deserves it. Indulgently, he finds a pattern to stroke in time with the hitch of Fjord's hips, letting him grind those ridges against his palm. His other hand still plays more delicately, rough fingertips cupped around the thick head while his thumb rubs deliberately beneath the crown, hoping to encourage more of the precome proimisingly welling at the tip. ]