The way it feels when Charlie's mouth is on him as far as it can go and the way it feels when he pulls off, the air on the slick skin, that tongue lapping at him and then-
"Fuck," he says again, though he draws out the vowel, lets it turn into a low moan as the tentacles squirm and shift and release their hold on himself. One turns to stroke Charlie's cheek tenderly, while the other goes wherever Charlie's tongue is nudging it, whether it's against his own skin or into Charlie's mouth, but without any force. It does end up with a few drops of gold along Charlie's cheekbone, and the scent of the musk is heavy down there, almost intoxicating. The claw in Charlie's hair turns to a flat hand, petting and thankful.
John's voice is strained when he speaks-
"Do you want- I want to make you feel good too. Your fucking mouth."
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"Fuck," he says again, though he draws out the vowel, lets it turn into a low moan as the tentacles squirm and shift and release their hold on himself. One turns to stroke Charlie's cheek tenderly, while the other goes wherever Charlie's tongue is nudging it, whether it's against his own skin or into Charlie's mouth, but without any force. It does end up with a few drops of gold along Charlie's cheekbone, and the scent of the musk is heavy down there, almost intoxicating. The claw in Charlie's hair turns to a flat hand, petting and thankful.
John's voice is strained when he speaks-
"Do you want- I want to make you feel good too. Your fucking mouth."