Basking in his husband's pride and affection, the time they remain joined passes quickly for Essek. Finally he's able to rest after an intense few hours, so content to be there beneath his alpha, warm and safe and full, that he slips in and out of a light doze, only half aware of when the occasional twitch of Percival's cock inside him as he comes finally stops, and feeling his knot's gradual release as an easing of pressure. He only stirs fully when he feels the wolf begin to shift deliberately over him. His knot, greatly reduced in size, slips out easily, followed by his cock--and then, with the stopper pulled, a deluge of come that his attentive husband is quick to stem, bright white against his dark skin.
Essek looks over his shoulder to watch that flexible pink tongue delve into his folds, still swollen and tender, and lap up the seed leaking steadily from his stretched opening. He flushes dark and hot when he begins to realize just how much there is. Quickly and persistently, his arousal builds again as he's tended to. Flustered, he attempts to keep his breathing relatively even, tries not to moan or whimper, but he feels so sensitive between his legs that it's a lost cause. He tries to convince himself not to be embarrassed; he's in heat, and an insatiable sexual appetite is expected. His hips twitch up and down almost without his permission as the wolf's long wet tongue licks over and into him. How easily it pushes inside him now compared to earlier emphasizes just how much his cunt was forced to stretch to accommodate his husband's cock.
Light, he feels wrecked.
"Are you trying to, ah--clean all of it out?" he pants as his husband's tongue curls inside him. That seems impossible, if so. He's being thorough enough to stop it dripping out, but what is already deep inside him will remain there. Almost distractedly, he adds, "If we are still compatible like this, Whitestone will have a half-drow heir by fall."
no subject
Essek looks over his shoulder to watch that flexible pink tongue delve into his folds, still swollen and tender, and lap up the seed leaking steadily from his stretched opening. He flushes dark and hot when he begins to realize just how much there is. Quickly and persistently, his arousal builds again as he's tended to. Flustered, he attempts to keep his breathing relatively even, tries not to moan or whimper, but he feels so sensitive between his legs that it's a lost cause. He tries to convince himself not to be embarrassed; he's in heat, and an insatiable sexual appetite is expected. His hips twitch up and down almost without his permission as the wolf's long wet tongue licks over and into him. How easily it pushes inside him now compared to earlier emphasizes just how much his cunt was forced to stretch to accommodate his husband's cock.
Light, he feels wrecked.
"Are you trying to, ah--clean all of it out?" he pants as his husband's tongue curls inside him. That seems impossible, if so. He's being thorough enough to stop it dripping out, but what is already deep inside him will remain there. Almost distractedly, he adds, "If we are still compatible like this, Whitestone will have a half-drow heir by fall."