["Your turn," hisses Lord Karnon, and he grabs Taryon's balls through the fabric. Tary gasps and leaks, though any pleasant sensation is interrupted by Karnon purposefully ramming into him with greater speed: not to strike Taryon's prostate, but to make his path smoother as he pumps in and out. As fun as ordering his slave to ride him is, the accuracy diminishes when he's not holding Taryon down.
Sweat mingles with Wellington's seed on his temples. At his point, Taryon has told his heart to stop panicking and to finish, get this over with. He fists himself, whimpering between each thrust. As long as he thinks of Dorian, he should be fine. He things of the handsome genasi, that this is only for him and not the spectators...
He nearly cries when he climaxes and an arc of while falls atop Dorian's head.]
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Sweat mingles with Wellington's seed on his temples. At his point, Taryon has told his heart to stop panicking and to finish, get this over with. He fists himself, whimpering between each thrust. As long as he thinks of Dorian, he should be fine. He things of the handsome genasi, that this is only for him and not the spectators...
He nearly cries when he climaxes and an arc of while falls atop Dorian's head.]