*The impact of Killua's knee induces a reflex. Kalluto tightens and coils the muscles around and between his legs, stiffens the impetuous curling of his knees, his feet higher now, ankles hooked around Killua's shoulders, hips extended to angles his body has not known outside of a gymnasium or circus. The pleasure then comes a second later, the bundle of nerves under that knee screaming for the now-muted milling to be unabated. It starts slowly, Kalluto's protective instincts peeling away to let his brother's power inside of him.
His hair is grabbed, his chest is hunched, Killua is moving him about like he's stuffed with cloth or corn, not moulded of plastic or porcelain, hitting and stroking and kneading and oh my god he's digging into me with his mouth every little spot he wants and needs before he even knows it, everything is about him and Kalluto cries out his brother's name, haggard panting as his mind whirls with the delight of submission, every aching iota of will lapsing into the trust of his brother's tender thunder.
It's a deep pile of white-hot cinders which almost has steam escaping from Kalluto's hanging mouth, from which a novel, unknown bodily pleasure begins to emerge, Kalluto's body warm and shaking with miniscule vibrations that he tries to keep in check, wants the perfection of his brother's drilling, licking, biting, taking to go just according to Killua's intentions. Kalluto's arms buckle; without realising it, he's on the edge of a profound orgasm whose throes would rattle the whole of Barbieland.*
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Date: 2023-10-23 05:21 am (UTC)His hair is grabbed, his chest is hunched, Killua is moving him about like he's stuffed with cloth or corn, not moulded of plastic or porcelain, hitting and stroking and kneading and oh my god he's digging into me with his mouth every little spot he wants and needs before he even knows it, everything is about him and Kalluto cries out his brother's name, haggard panting as his mind whirls with the delight of submission, every aching iota of will lapsing into the trust of his brother's tender thunder.
It's a deep pile of white-hot cinders which almost has steam escaping from Kalluto's hanging mouth, from which a novel, unknown bodily pleasure begins to emerge, Kalluto's body warm and shaking with miniscule vibrations that he tries to keep in check, wants the perfection of his brother's drilling, licking, biting, taking to go just according to Killua's intentions. Kalluto's arms buckle; without realising it, he's on the edge of a profound orgasm whose throes would rattle the whole of Barbieland.*
Don't stop! Please, don't stop!