By the end of his navigator's unfortunately timed psychoanalysis, Keeler's cock and he have become the best of friends; he never quite thought he'd enjoy it so much, trying his teeth on the side of sensitive skin, probing the tip with his tongue and teasing away droplets of dew, feeling Keeler's heartbeat through the slight pulse of a rebellious vein, so fucking blue against the corpse white and newborn pink of Keeler's everything. He does, now - does, because it's Keeler, and while his navi's no different than all the other not-boyfriends Encke's ever held in the fleet at the beginning of a courtship, this one sick, busted, contrary man's the only one who's made Encke as happy for the catch as he's been for the chase.
But then Keeler stops talking, a diatribe best summarized as, I'm broken in a million parts, but please keep me anyway, and he can't pretend he hasn't been paying attention, for all he's 'otherwise engaged.' They know better.
Abandoning his favourite toy, he lets his forehead rest on Keeler's left inner thigh for a moment, chuckles, "Six years. You've got so much catching up to do, I'll be needing my painkillers tomorrow."
Humour, innuendo, whatever breaks the ice. Then, soberly, looking up from the corner of his eyes, "Just want you to sit back and enjoy this. That's all."
Absent the use of his hands, it's like Keeler's cock and he are at war, and he's stuck deciding a strategy on how to best coax and keep it into his mouth. He goes for the simple kill, mouth tight around the length as far as it'll go without choking him - sorry, Keeler, that's an advanced lesson, and this is still 101 - dragging lips and teeth back and forth attentively.
no subject
But then Keeler stops talking, a diatribe best summarized as, I'm broken in a million parts, but please keep me anyway, and he can't pretend he hasn't been paying attention, for all he's 'otherwise engaged.' They know better.
Abandoning his favourite toy, he lets his forehead rest on Keeler's left inner thigh for a moment, chuckles, "Six years. You've got so much catching up to do, I'll be needing my painkillers tomorrow."
Humour, innuendo, whatever breaks the ice. Then, soberly, looking up from the corner of his eyes, "Just want you to sit back and enjoy this. That's all."
Absent the use of his hands, it's like Keeler's cock and he are at war, and he's stuck deciding a strategy on how to best coax and keep it into his mouth. He goes for the simple kill, mouth tight around the length as far as it'll go without choking him - sorry, Keeler, that's an advanced lesson, and this is still 101 - dragging lips and teeth back and forth attentively.