[ Belial's hand on his head, the pull on his hair, feels like an anchor; steadying, keeping him in place, guiding him through the blissful hazy uncertainty that has become his world. Sandalphon eagerly dips his head and follows its direction, pressing his tongue to the base of his cock; the taste fills his senses, not what could be called delicious but not unpleasant either, and it feels so warm. His tongue stuck out, he moves in a slow, steady motion upwards across the organ, occasionally moving his tongue to lick from side to side to try covering as much of it as he could reach, not even thinking to mind or consider how he looks, the way he would under normal circumstances.
When he reaches the head, Sandalphon pauses thoughtfully for half a second to reconsider. By 'make out', he assumes that Belial's instructions mean that he wants to treat it as if he were kissing another person's mouth, like— the memory of Belial shoving his own tongue in his mouth stirs within him vividly. Cruelly and yet sweetly taking his first kiss while holding down his weakened, pliant body and fucking him, intruding on every part of him he would reach. He shivers at the thought, heat pooling in his thighs, his own cock not stirring yet but his body willingly responding to the signal and ready to bounce back in spite of the recent orgasm.
Sandalphon closes his eyes, focusing on the memory as he tries to recreate it here as he follows the instructions; presses a single wet kiss to the head, and then opens his mouth and wraps his lips around it in a small opening— not quite deep enough to take it all in yet, but enough to leave room for his tongue to lick it, lapping up the precome even through its starkly bitter taste, then flicking his tongue in motions, around the head, up and down, side to side, taking it just a bit deeper into his mouth so he can slide his tongue across it in slower, longer motions, the way he remembers Belial sliding his tongue against his own.
Maybe, the finds himself thinking, if he does well enough kissing here, when he's done he could get a real kiss from Belial, too. ]
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When he reaches the head, Sandalphon pauses thoughtfully for half a second to reconsider. By 'make out', he assumes that Belial's instructions mean that he wants to treat it as if he were kissing another person's mouth, like— the memory of Belial shoving his own tongue in his mouth stirs within him vividly. Cruelly and yet sweetly taking his first kiss while holding down his weakened, pliant body and fucking him, intruding on every part of him he would reach. He shivers at the thought, heat pooling in his thighs, his own cock not stirring yet but his body willingly responding to the signal and ready to bounce back in spite of the recent orgasm.
Sandalphon closes his eyes, focusing on the memory as he tries to recreate it here as he follows the instructions; presses a single wet kiss to the head, and then opens his mouth and wraps his lips around it in a small opening— not quite deep enough to take it all in yet, but enough to leave room for his tongue to lick it, lapping up the precome even through its starkly bitter taste, then flicking his tongue in motions, around the head, up and down, side to side, taking it just a bit deeper into his mouth so he can slide his tongue across it in slower, longer motions, the way he remembers Belial sliding his tongue against his own.
Maybe, the finds himself thinking, if he does well enough kissing here, when he's done he could get a real kiss from Belial, too. ]