[So weak and so fast. It would have been a bit disappointing but McGillis recognizes that not every man was a sexual guru; he also recognizes that some were more sensitive than others and apparently that was the case here. For a moment, he draws back. Just a little, just enough to appreciate Jeremiah in all his stuttering glory. While he wasn't anything like soft, he can at least admire that unusually striking appearance, those crisp clothes which compliment a cocksure attitude. Running fingers through the fancy sweep of hair, which drop slowly down.]
Careful now. Wouldn't want you to lose it, long before you ever get near my mouth.
[Allowing Jeremiah a moment to catch his breath—or at least try—he angles his mouth away, bites like before but not so brutally. More of a curious nibble as he alternates between nipping and sucking the soft flesh above the jugular, where he could bleed out. All the while, he rocks into that steady grip, moaning with every squeeze and stroke. His fingers hook into his belt and unwind it without even looking, the sign of a true prodigy, then sneak beneath his layers to travel up that toned torso. And naturally, he doesn't get far before he runs into a speed bump.
Or rather he figures out what made him so heavy, not that it took a particularly brilliant mind.]
Prostheses...?
[It could have killed the mood, but to the contrary, McGillis seems fascinated. So much so that he tries to strip his coat to get at the pieces of interest.]
no subject
Careful now. Wouldn't want you to lose it, long before you ever get near my mouth.
[Allowing Jeremiah a moment to catch his breath—or at least try—he angles his mouth away, bites like before but not so brutally. More of a curious nibble as he alternates between nipping and sucking the soft flesh above the jugular, where he could bleed out. All the while, he rocks into that steady grip, moaning with every squeeze and stroke. His fingers hook into his belt and unwind it without even looking, the sign of a true prodigy, then sneak beneath his layers to travel up that toned torso. And naturally, he doesn't get far before he runs into a speed bump.
Or rather he figures out what made him so heavy, not that it took a particularly brilliant mind.]
Prostheses...?
[It could have killed the mood, but to the contrary, McGillis seems fascinated. So much so that he tries to strip his coat to get at the pieces of interest.]