[ This, right here— this what was Sandalphon wanted to feel again, but it's just like Belial said, even better. He's not sure what the difference is, if it's just the physical comfort of being on a bed instead of on the bare ground, the slower buildup, or just something that the real Belial has which the summon lacks, but it makes everything feel so much better; the pleasure more intense, lasting and staying longer, easier to sink into, the sweet relief so much more satisfying and so much better. Sandalphon understands this in some way, more than he really thinks it, the sensations that come from it all so mind-melting that whatever functional thought processes has been left to him break down in the sight of it.
All he knows is that Belial's force of movement overwhelms him, his touch sweeping him over like a massive ocean wave, and he lets himself be carried by it, his body giving in to both the force and the pleasure; that when he meets Belial's eye again with his own hazy, unfocused gaze, the expression on his face, the deep dark pools his eyes have turned to, is almost too overwhelming to look at; that his own voice breaks out of his control, that he gasps and moans in rhythm to every thrust and wet, lewd touch between their bodies without even doing so knowingly, hearing the noises come bursting from his own throat as if listening to it from afar.
Belial's teeth on him break out another loud, sharp noise at the spark of pleasure that seems to short-circuit his already hazy mind; he cries out something that might be Belial's name, slurred and messy as if he had forgotten how to speak at all. ]
no subject
All he knows is that Belial's force of movement overwhelms him, his touch sweeping him over like a massive ocean wave, and he lets himself be carried by it, his body giving in to both the force and the pleasure; that when he meets Belial's eye again with his own hazy, unfocused gaze, the expression on his face, the deep dark pools his eyes have turned to, is almost too overwhelming to look at; that his own voice breaks out of his control, that he gasps and moans in rhythm to every thrust and wet, lewd touch between their bodies without even doing so knowingly, hearing the noises come bursting from his own throat as if listening to it from afar.
Belial's teeth on him break out another loud, sharp noise at the spark of pleasure that seems to short-circuit his already hazy mind; he cries out something that might be Belial's name, slurred and messy as if he had forgotten how to speak at all. ]