[If Adrian pushes up much further, he's going to start breaking hems, and while Trevor's not usually fussy over his clothing, he's going to have to start. They can get carried away, and clothing is an unfortunate casualty of that fervor. Trevor pauses in his thorough defilement of Adrian's back, for the few seconds it takes to grab the neckline of his shirt and peel it off, toss it-- away, somewhere, he doesn't really care where it's landed. It frees up his body for more of Adrian's wandering hands, and that'll be reward enough.
Adrian's wiry, lithe; his shirts never seem to pull so much as shift over Trevor's grasp, greedy though it always seems to be. But his hands creep lower when they return to Adrian's back, sliding beneath his shirt only briefly before straying down, passing briefly over his ass and then grasping at his thighs. He thinks -- no, he's quite sure -- that every part of Adrian is sculpted to perfection, but his legs? Those are Trevor's favorite part of him. Never mind legs for days, he swears Adrian's stretch on for weeks, and Trevor's content to be between them for just as long.
So let them linger here for hours. What else do they have to do? Nothing more important than sucking bruises into a dhampir's neck, that's for damn sure.]
I don't give you enough credit, do I? [Trevor murmurs, muffled against Adrian's skin, as if this is really the time or place to be asking that question.]
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Adrian's wiry, lithe; his shirts never seem to pull so much as shift over Trevor's grasp, greedy though it always seems to be. But his hands creep lower when they return to Adrian's back, sliding beneath his shirt only briefly before straying down, passing briefly over his ass and then grasping at his thighs. He thinks -- no, he's quite sure -- that every part of Adrian is sculpted to perfection, but his legs? Those are Trevor's favorite part of him. Never mind legs for days, he swears Adrian's stretch on for weeks, and Trevor's content to be between them for just as long.
So let them linger here for hours. What else do they have to do? Nothing more important than sucking bruises into a dhampir's neck, that's for damn sure.]
I don't give you enough credit, do I? [Trevor murmurs, muffled against Adrian's skin, as if this is really the time or place to be asking that question.]