Re: Exterior: a rest stop, desert [sexual content]
The kiss was - different. Intimate, and he wasn't used to intimate. He wasn't sure he liked it, because the caress of tastebuds along his gums, the heartshorn sigh, these weren't hungry things, or designed to sate desire. They were personal, almost a gift, and Famine wasn't used to emotion given that freely. Now he was even more disturbed than before, a puzzle piece thrown out of place, and tectonic plate scraping against another. His mind was grasping at the mess of thoughts in an attempt to make sense of it, no mild thing, but now there was reversals and friction and suggestive turning.
Any thought that was not basic vanished in a new roar of clean, hot desire, like the taffy pull of heated glass straight from the kiln. Famine stopped bothering. His lashes went heavy. The clouds in his eyes vanished in drops of black ink. His mouth came open in unalloyed anticipation, and his stomach gave a quick expand and contract as he watched the clever movement of teeth on zipper. Famine put long, hot hands on the back of the boy's shoulders and kneaded down into the knots along his spine, pushing his whole body down against plastic and porcelain so he could lift his heels. The tearing moan came hard and long on the edge of a quiver.
"Very good. Yes. I Want your tongue, too." The old god slid both thumbs, soft/rough as new silk, down along either side of the boy's adam's apple. He wanted to feel his throat working, and he was impressed how deep he could go (not that he was God's gift, but still). "Suck, now." His hands pressed up, pulling, stopping just short of choking, and he moved his hips into the boy's face, not hard, but enough to feel him work his lips. "Again."