bakerstreet | Smut Picture Prompt Meme

Smut Picture Prompt Meme

the smut picture prompt meme
SIMILAR TO THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME ONLY FOR NSFW/SMUT PROMPTS INSTEAD

i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.

THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY AND NSFW.

Link to an image:

Embed an image in your reply:

You can control width and height of your pictures:

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he hardly would call it a relationship, though he's not really sure he likes the idea of it just being some one night stand with the guy. it was a mutually beneficial situation, and that was that. nothing needed to be more. he didn't really like the idea of being all that intimate with the vulcan, at least not in the sentimental sense of the word. but intimacy is still what he's inclined towards, and his hands are occupied as he smirks, strokes him in a way he hopes (knows, actually) has to be pleasant. he's thankful he's paid attention, because at least that gives hime more an idea of what to do.

his own gaze is at half-mast, lips drawn back when those fingertips draw along his side, trace along the edge of his exposed skin. and sure, he knows he's good - he feels like it, anyway, feels like he's doing exactly what he needs to do with his own hands, but it still feels like static electricity touching along his skin with each brush of skin against skin. there's a certain challenge to spock; and he's relishing in shudders and slow, inhaled breathes, measured as if he has to think about it. ]

Think you can relax a little more than that, Spock? [ he offers, and there's almost a tease to his tone. ] Doesn't hurt to enjoy yourself.

[ he's intrigued by the feel of him in his hand, the slickness making his movements all the easier. he nips lightly at his neck before drawing back again. ]

[ Spock continues his way up the other man's side, feathering his fingers against McCoy's ribcage. Were he a Vulcan, his heart would be there. His cock slides smoothly through the other man's fist, slipping its sheath in favor of the cool-tight pressure. Arousal rakes down his spine in slow slivers, dizzying enough that he feels fortunate to be already laying down. Maybe a ripple of it makes it between their skin; it's inevitable with a touch telepath whose control is slowly going a little slack. There's a hitch in his breath for the nip at his throat, that free hand enfolding the nearest shoulder. ]

Every time I endeavor to try, Doctor, you endeavor to speak.

[ Nevertheless, he grips the older man by the throat, just enough to pull him in for a smoldering kiss. He inhales through his nose, twitches his hips incrementally into the doctor's hand with a murmur of sound that's more felt through the connection of their lips than heard. ]

[ fine, fine, and he's kissing him desperately, slamming his lips against spock's with a fierceness that is based in frustration with the way the man smarts off at him, and maybe it's because spock simply knows how to get to him, knows just how to frustrate him as much as perhaps humanly - vulcanly - possible. the words don't really come to his mind, he's practically babbling and would be if he didn't enjoy this so much, if he didn't enjoy palming over spock again and again, stroking the man's length with a less-than-clinical touch.

and he's not speaking, because fine, you asshole, if that's what you want, that's what you'll get, and he's sliding down to nip possessively at his lower lip, and drop down to kiss along his jaw.

he's swallowing hard and pressing his lips over the column of his throat, and there's a connection there that he's faintly aware of, he's no stranger to what a touch-telepathic species can do and it's something outside of his comfort zone but entirely intriguing just as well. he slides one of his hands down over spock's hip and presses his thumb against his body, sliding it back down the curve of his ass to slide fingers over the vulcan's hand. and he's had it with trying to remain quiet, god damn spock, he's hardly going to let the commander tell him what he can and can't do. not from this perspective, anyway. ]

Feels good. You feel…[ he's pressing his lips against a green tinged nub on his chest, giving him a light nip, a tease. ] - good.

[ Under such a physical ferocity, passion, Spock is more inclined to just take it, in effect reaping what he's sown; a triumph and a punishment. Because like it or not, he feels more of Bones than what he conveys, despite erecting the barriers, it's admittedly difficult to concentrate on blocking it out when a part of him wants it. Out of his comfort zone, his own sort of intrigue.

Silently, he's arching his spine for the attention making its way down his jaw and his neck, licking his burning lower lip to help soothe out the pain and taste some trace of the other man. He's beginning to rock into that hand instead of just allowing its ministrations, drinking in that interesting curl of possession and swallowing whatever the more human part of him might dare to respond with. His fingers twitch and curl under the hand landing over his, offering for a moment the grace of a Vulcan kiss up the underside of those first two fingers, hooking briefly before they continue on.

The fact that he doesn't speak a damn word outside of a soft gasp probably says well enough on its own. But there's a hand resting on the back of McCoy's head now, fingers stroking through the short hairs at his nape that says yes, says that he's finding a certain level of enjoyment in the human as his other hand rubs down his spine, slipping down the curve of his ass. ]

[ whereas spock has always been thought, pure, left-brained thought and logical technicalities, mccoy has always been a whirlwind of emotions and feelings and everything outside of the realms of mathematics and scientific processes. he's truthfully enjoying this, this ability to seem to make spock feel what he's feeling, that swallow of indignance that he tries to convey and drag his fingers over his cock, again, again, and again.

and the fact that he seems to be enjoying himself, that mccoy can take comfort in the way that spock's limbs are more lenient now that his other hand is tangled with his for a brief moment makes him grin with all the satisfaction of a man getting something that he wants, and his body moves against the other man's with all the drive and desire of something still not yet won. he draws that hand down spock's chest and down underneath him, hooking a leg over the other side of him, pressing against his entrance and toying lightly over that ring of muscle, placing a dry thumb against him simply to feel him lightly clench, to test against the resistance there. ]

Always knew you'd have a tight ass. Seemed like the type.

[ It was true, Spock was beginning to enjoy himself, beginning to go more pliant under the doctor's hands as pleasure began to suffuse through his limbs. If Spock had not thought the man remotely capable of putting him there, he would have hardly allowed things to come as far as they had.

He allows the man to hike one of those long, lean legs and open him a little further, even lets his knee hook loosely over the doctor's hip. That grin and the tickle of triumph stirs something warm and light and all too wary. In the next moment, there's a thumb pushing against his hole, and Spock's breath runs thin. Indeed, that ring of muscle jumps tightly around the intrusion, and even if it doesn't register in his eyes, Spock hesitates.

And then that little comment, predictable. You just couldn't help yourself, could you, Doctor? In turn, the Vulcan stares up at him, tilts his head like he's wondering if Leonard McCoy has an extraordinary amount of dairy in his diet. No, he's not going to let that one slide. ]

Curious, Doctor - I would not have thought the elasticity of a sphincter would be such a novelty to a medical professional, much less that you had given mine such consideration.

[ The next moment has Spock brushing aside the hand on his cock and pulling the man off balance by that elbow, tightening the leg around the doctor's hip simultaneously and rolling their positions. A smooth transition, leaving Spock straddling the man's hips and sitting his bare ass right on the tops of the other's knees. His hands land on the lower portion of McCoy's ribs, not exactly a pinning gesture but certainly suggesting the other stay just where Spock put him.

He cocks a brow. You didn't think he was just going to lay there and let you have your way the whole time, did you? You've lost your viewpoint privilege, Doctor. It's his turn to look. ]

[ he's feeling mostly confident at this point, easy to do so with spock laid out, pliant and easy to maneuver in front of him. mccoy is brushing that thumb just gently against him, testing him lightly, getting a feel for just how much he'd need to prepare him, fingertips splaying over him and slicking his hand over his cock again. he's pressing one of those lubed fingers up against him for a moment, just idly touching him, wondering how easy it'd be to slip himself inside.

there's another hand, stroking over spock's thigh, gentle and affirming as he's slipping that one finger inside, smirking as though the comment was probably the most entertaining damn thing he's thought of all day.

at the comment though, his brow is raising, and he's about to open his lips as he pulls that fingertip right back out, only to be tossed on his back with the Vulcan pressing hands against his stomach, and there's a laugh at his lips as he leans forward. ]

On the contrary, Mr. Spock. [ he licked over his bottom lip, pausing for a split second to glance up towards him, lips curling. ] I've given your ass some sort of consideration. Considerin' the position we're in, I'd say that's to your benefit, don't you?

[ thankfully, he's got all the patience in the world, merely continuing to stare up at him in jaunty defiance, propped up on his elbows. ]

[ It was certainly a juxtaposition, the smugness of the commentary next to the delicate probing. Spock could be accused of something similar, though he'd certainly deny it, as he settles atop the doctor's thighs and runs his palms up the span of his chest. The light burn of the stimulation lingers at the edges, making him want to grind against the man below, but he holds off for just now. This is a controlled study.

Almost designed to frustrate. He studies the length of the man's ribcage, shorter than his own, thumbs curiously across his nipples on his way down to the doctor's flat stomach. ]

The data is inconclusive as of yet, Doctor.

[ He returns easily, unashamed of the bluntness, the lack of generosity. His thumbs find where pelvis connects to thigh, framing the other man's groin and down, pressing into the soft skin behind his scrotum and then spanning up again. Spock leans over the other man, unconsciously teasing the heat of his body across the other man to grip his chin. A kiss, more dragging teeth to rile the sensory nerves than softer slips of his tongue. A hand, studying, full, across the man's erection, following the length and providing no purchase. ]

Edited 2013-10-03 06:54 (UTC)

Is this sex, or a goddamn science experiment to you?

[ like foreplay, sort of, somewhat, and it's a tease the way he says it, breath hitching in the back of his throat when he feels those hands on him, dragging over skin and pressing gentle fingertips over his stomach. he flinches when thumbs trace over his chest, seeking out each little unnerving spot that has him wanting to growl deep in the back of his throat and arch up right against him. those fingertips are drawing down now, and it does feel like a damn examination, fingertips palpating over right over his perineum and dancing over his skin as though he's playing an instrument.

it's strangely not devoid of passion so to speak, but it is devoid of a certain something that mccoy is missing, and he grumbles low against his lips when he finally descends down on him. his fingers pull up to curl through spock's hair, taking a strange derived pleasure from mussing up the unnaturally straight, even strands. he grips him and kisses him hard, kisses him deeply, that hand on his cock having him buck up into those willing fingers. ]

Jesus, Spock. [ he swears under his breath between a kiss and a snarl, and his lips are drawing down over his jawline, kissing a trail down over his neck, nipping absently by the hollow in his throat. ]

[ It's still something restrained in its way, something between analytical and sexual, and whatever satisfaction he derives from the other man's response sorts itself into both. He doesn't deign to answer, though. Bones' hands curl in his hair and he can't think to mind, of anything beyond that curious quirk of pleasure he can feel between them. If there's anything at all, it's in that kiss, such a savage, messy, passionate thing by his standards. Spock may have started a low groan in his throat before it suppressed itself to the low, rattling vibrations between their skin.

Spock doesn't say anything, silent as those fingers lace through his hair, save for the sound of his breathing trying to catch up to the pounding in his chest. No one's ever said his name quite like that, and in truth he is a little curious for it, more even than the skirt of attention down his throat.... Which is not insubstantial. The way he flares some tension of instinctive control, it may as well be a shiver.

Which is why he pulls back, bracing one hand on the other man's shoulder and watching him with dark eyes as his hand wraps around the doctor's cock in full this time and begins to stroke him in full. Good. He exhales softly, takes a great and serene sort of pleasure in watching the reactions flash over the face of the man beneath him. He doesn't even seem to mind if Bones wants to thrust into his hand for a while, though he grows to a point where he'll stop when it starts, then begin anew once it seems the man has settled. ]

Is it the motive that concerns you, or the method?

[ He has to wonder, while he's sliding his free hand down the doctors chest, rolling one of said nipples between the base of his thumb and index finger. In better light, the other man would be able to see he's a little tinted by the flush of arousal, not as unaffected as his lofty perch has afforded him. ]

[ he takes every shudder, every break in Spock's seamless calm and serenity as a plus, as a win for himself - he's not nearly as prone to winning so much that he'd deign to cheating. he's not their illustrious captain, of course, but when that little shudder seems to drop over his skin he leans forward, nips out a mark against the column of his pale skin, making a mark that'd be easily covered by their high-necked collars. thank god for that.

but then he's away, and his hand is on his cock and god that has his hips pull up into that hand instinctively, a tongue dropping over his lips in a quick swipe before he bucks up into that well-placed hand, stroking over him somehow perfectly in every damn way. of course he is, and bones seeks to lift up just a bit, just enough to where he can slide his hands over the vulcan's hips, press his thumb into the hollows and breathe for a moment, watching the man as he seemingly experiments. and he does feel a little scrutinized for each and every action, the god damned vulcan seemingly watching for his reaction to see exactly what he'll do, and it's enough to have even him impatient.

he contents himself with rubbing circles into his hips, giving a groan in response to the affection allotted to his chest and pressing up into the man's hands at any given point, a somewhat awkward squirming in response to the seemingly calculated movements that Spock continues to make. ]

I just - think. [ and he does have a lot of opinions on this subject that he'd like to voice, all seemingly blinking out of existence with that hand on his cock again. ]

That you oughta enjoy it for what it is. Stop thinking so damn much.

[ Bones isn't incorrect; every minor tremor he's making for the man now is some form of a concession against his general resolve. The slight mark on his throat still burns, tingles as those fingers seek the hollow of his hips. Spock barely keeps himself from arching into that touch, rubs his thumb instead against the slight slit at the other's head. The anatomy, one must realize, is novel just the same to him. As a general rule, he had been more appreciative of the opposite sex, and what he had had of the male variety in the past had been admittedly quite short. A part of him would like to resort to the previous experimentation; something about the doctor just drives him to want to pretend he's had more experience in this matter than he truly has. ]

Have you ever considered thought is imperative to the pleasure I derive?

[ It's not so much a statement of fact as it is a challenge; he can't really help it when it comes to this man. He lowers his head to kiss at his way down McCoy's sternum, replacing his hand with teeth on the man's nipple, licking and nipping at the slight nub there. His hips shift in the other man's hands, beginning to dare their way out of the other's reach as he slides a little further down the human's body. If the doctor lets him go, the situation will almost assuredly be pried from his hands entirely. ]

[ you and your goddamned challenges, spock.

not that he's really complaining much, not when the vulcan touches him like that, and maybe there's something interesting about that perceptive touch, the way that spock runs his thumb over the head like he likes and strokes over him, strokes in a way that has mccoy not even questioning the fact whether or not spick's done this before. it's funny in a way, he's always upstaged by the goddamned first officer who's breadth of knowledge seems to be entirely vast - the first time his knowledge is more encompassing, he doesn't even think to gloat.

too busy inhaling as those lips press against his chest, and then spock is trying to wriggle away, and that's something that he doesn't have the patience for. strength be damned, he's had enough of this experimental teasing, and he's swapping their positions.

this time, he has spock pinned, managed to maneuver him to where he's got his front to spock's back and he's on top of them, lips pressing against his neck. ] You're takin' too damn long. Anyone ever tell you it's rude to make someone wait?

[ Challenges make things more interesting, Doctor, and are the true measure of one's abilities.

That being said, Spock jerks a little beneath the human's weight when he's initially pinned, though he stills almost immediately after. He absorbs the feel of the other's skin pressing up against his back; the pass of McCoy's lips are even somewhat soothing on his nape. Truth be told, he's a little impressed with the other's maneuvering.

The Vulcan slowly begins to gather his arms beneath him, to help him better look over his shoulder at Bones. The movement also unconsciously bows his spine in, stretches the skin taut over his scapulae. ]

I was not aware that you were waiting for anything specific. You seemed quite stimulated.

[ Is he supposed to be sorry? Because he isn't. Oh, he makes it sound like an honest mistake... with Bones to blame.

He's also trying to get a good view of the other over his shoulder. Those ears have probably never looked so pointy. ]

Stimulated, is that what you call it?

[ he's grinning as he's got this position now, as he's dropping his lips over every inch of his spine, over the ridges of bones that jut out from pale, eager skin. he's feeling confident, satisfied with this positioning, because this means he can have the upper hand (for once) for a moment. he's pulling up to stroke over spock's arched back for a moment, pulling back to sit at his thighs.

it's tempting, so he does it - grabs a handful of that muscled ass, squeezes lightly, spreads him wide. ]

S'pose I was. Still, you were going too damn slow. Wanted something more than those hands of yours, wanted you to do somethin'.

[ he pauses for a moment before brushing fingertips between the cleft of his ass, gently moving over spock's entrance, a tease of fingers before pulling back. ]

[ Stimulated is exactly what he calls it, and it's what he feels when the doctor's mouth slides down his spine. He's unconsciously arching his back into it, anticipating his next move.

He does not, however, anticipate the older man seizing hold of his ass. It's such a gratuitous, wanton gesture, and Spock gasps a short breath without his permission as he's suddenly spread. Instinct tamps down, tightens his entrance against those probing thumbs. No one has touched him there, been allowed to, and he is uncertain now of just how permissive he wants to be about it. It doesn't hurt, no, it's simply the intimacy of the gesture that has him beside himself.

Spock glances over his shoulder again, dark eyes daring down the other man's face and what he can see of his body. If he allows this... what does it say? About him, about what he thinks of the doctor.

Shifting his arms, he reaches back with one hand and almost delicately catches McCoy's jaw on his fingertips. There's a short study of the man's jaw before Spock seeks to draw him a little closer. ]

Perhaps if you were more vocal about your expectations, Doctor, you would not find yourself so frequently frustrated.

[ he isn't about to let Spock get the upper hand on him again, but he's certainly compliant and willing to be patient. surprisingly. when Spock seems to flinch against those probing fingers, he stops, pauses, draws back just a moment to gently run his fingertips over the curve of his skin, dialing it back a fraction.

instead he spends time smoothing his fingers over the backs of his upper thighs, curling his palms over his ass again, his jaw caught at Spock's fingertips, catching that studious gaze with his own. ]

Perhaps I should be more damn vocal then. [ it comes out whiskey-dark, more affected by the actions than he's willing to admit, southern drawl dripping like honey as he leans forward, presses his lips to Spock's the best way he can. he pulls back only to murmur against one of those pointed ears he ever-so-affectionally refers to so often, the tip of his tongue teasing over that point only a moment before dropping his voice an octave. ]

So why don't I tell you what I want, and you tell me if you think that's somethin' that could logically be arranged. [ teeth, just the barest hint against his ear, and his body is drawing closer to him, hands gently resting on Spock's hips. ] Want to have you. You're probably so goddamned tight that I'll have to spend the next thirty minutes just fingering you to help loosen you up, then after that, want to pin you down and take you for myself. What - [ a murmur, an exhale as he draws back, breathing over his neck, over the nape of his neck, brushing lips against the finest of hairs that stop in a perfectly razored line. ] - do you think about that?

[ Even if Spock's face doesn't betray him just yet, he's not unaffected by this either. The sudden depth of the other man's voice, the uncoordinated kiss that he accepts, and those capable hands waxing into his skin all build to another soft inhale, this one a little less even than the one before. It's all he can do to remain still for the tongue tracing the tip of his ear, to focus on what he's being told.

A wave of heat pours over him at the edge of the older man's description of his wishes, almost as if it were indeed some work of an intoxicant slipping down his spine. From a practical standpoint he may be recalcitrant... but to hear McCoy say it, there's a sort of enticing quality to it. ]

Hypothetically, it is possible...

[ Not quite so chilly a counsel he might have initially offered. Spock is getting accustomed to the feel of the other's touch, beginning to feel the baser passions of both sides of his heritage beginning to press against the fore. Under the warm-cool breath and lips against his nape, Spock faces forward again, dipping his head incrementally between the arms propping him up.

There is the slightest splay of his thighs. What is sexual exploration without some exploration? Especially since it seemed like the other man was claiming that he could muster some patience. ]

Whether or not either of us would enjoy it, however, seems to require more empirical data.

[ And now there is another shade of depth to his own voice, following the tail end of something like a sigh. Steadying. ]

You may proceed.

[ ~~Is he doing it right? ]~~

[ it's almost enough to have him grabbing his clothes and walking out, because who the hell, save for the vulcan of course, would talk about this like that? You may proceed? And that sassy little tone is exactly why McCoy is dropping down to press the length of his body against his thighs, and he's only going to proceed to roll his eyes, mutter: ]

You'll enjoy it.

You'll enjoy it and you'll like it. That is if you can relax yourself enough to.

[ he finds himself suddenly running in his head the vulcan anatomies that he's observed, attempting to recall if there's something similar to a prostate in the vulcan physiology, and dammit, this is why he usually sticks to human kind. when those thighs spread, he palms over his ass, he drops down, gives him a bite on the swell of skin, when the muscled, lean body swells out over his hips. he sucks out a mark, sucking out colour into the skin, pressing his thumbs against the muscles and prying him apart again, almost delicately. ]

Save judgment till the end, Mr. Spock. [ not even a derogatory nickname. look, he's been sweet on you.

in his own way. ]

[ Indeed he does, though it's never been something Spock's really taken into careful consideration before. Until it's needed, most of the male Vulcan's anatomy remains internal; more an adaptation for the desert than the obstinate dignity they like to purport. Still, lifting and working his thighs and ass has his cock slipping free of its sheath, glossing a slick trail toward his belly and against the sheets when he's allowed to fall back against them.

He remains perfectly still as that mouth slips down, only the heavy quality of his exhales giving any indication that he's affected by the thumbs stretching him wider and wider. The suck of the doctor's mouth raises something jade and lovely, darkening with every passing moment and tender abuse of the skin. Spock is focusing now, or trying to, monitoring his breathing and letting the slow, sharp burn of the pull and press radiate up his spine and telling his mind that there is no pain. He keeps himself propped up, head hanging between his shoulders, chin tucked against his chest, but from the waist down, he's relaxing for the older man. He has nothing to say. ]

[ blessed silence.

it wasn't that he didn't enjoy their little - "chats", as they were, but spock felt a whole lot more attractive when he was still, when he was spread open for mccoy's ministrations and he's gently drawing down to curl a hand around his cock - slick, ready and at attention, slicking his hands with the vulcan's own fluids before drawing them back up towards his hole, pressing a fingertip lightly at his entrance. much of spock's anatomy - in fact all of it, from what mccoy can map out - remains to be largely vulcan, and for that, there's a learning curve.

so he's thankful for the silence, because it allows him to focus on the noises that spock's making, as well as the way his body is responding. there's a hitched breath here, and the man backs off gently. when that breath smooths out, when the way that spock's spine slowly draws back down, less feline-like and more open to his hands, he's allowing himself to push in just a bit further. just one finger, just one, slowly slipping past resistance and trying to encourage his partner to relax. ]

See. Not so bad, is it? [ half of that's a boast, the other half a worrisome query, wanting to communicate whether or not he might be hurting the man without being aware. ]

[ It's good that the other man is enjoying the silence, because it's what he'll be dealt for another good moment. There's a shudder just as gentle as the hand winding around his cock, hips that tilt along with how he's pulled. Waves of pleasure coax over him with each small pull, gritting his jaw in almost pure silence as he feels his own fluids being used to prep him. And he allows it. Spock lowers himself by increments onto the mattress, coiling his arms beneath him. There's a barely perceptible hitch in the inhalations through his nose as the first finger breaches him.

He forces his next breath out, slow, as he feels himself accommodate the slight penetration. No, it's not bad. With the lubrication, it's almost easy to slip in all the way to the last knuckle without having to worry about Spock clenching up. When he does, it isn't long. It's strange, but it doesn't hurt. If not for the bare hint that the other may be looking for verification to proceed, he might not have done anything.

So there's a soft, mild grunt, almost an absent acknowledgement at first. Spock allows his thighs to fall a little farther open still, rests his chin atop one of his arms. ]

You will not hurt me.

[ Simple, almost murmured. What exactly he means by it, challenge or confidence, is unknown. It may not even be a message for Bones himself. ]

[ that absent acknowledgement, that grunt, then finally affirmation that he can go further. he's gentle, almost achingly slow despite Spock's murmur that he wouldn't hurt him. he's still going to treat Spock just as he would treat any number of partners, never mind that it's strange to consider him in that bracket. he's pulling out, only to slick over Spock's member again, coating his hands and palming him gently. only when he feels like there's enough to make the way easier does he drop his hand back again, tracing over his perineum where his testicles would be were he more human in anatomy, and presses two fingers to his entrance once more.

he takes it as reassurance to keep going further, to press in slowly, to feel the man's muscles clench around him. and he makes an effort to gently pry him open with those two fingers, trusting the man to make a sound, to say something if he felt any discomfort. even so, he's incessantly clinical, gentle enough to know whether or not he's pushing too hard too fast. ]

S'what I'm aiming for. [ it's dark and grumbled, almost distracted as McCoy is focused on his task, gently ghosting over the backs of Spock's thighs as he spreads him open efficiently. he's pulling back again, tugging at his length once more, slicking up his fingers before pressing the tips of three fingers in, as slowly as perhaps possible, allowing Spock to put up any resistance necessary. he wants him to relax on his own terms, wants to feel those muscles give way, to know that he's not going to seize up uncomfortably at any given point. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Smut Picture Prompt Meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject