[Diarmuid's tongue is halfway through tripping through a spell to fetch lubricant from their bedside table before his lips become occupied with the rather more appealing prospect of a kiss. It's a small miracle it even finds its way into his hand and a large one that he has the presence of mind to stop when things have gotten so heated. Still, haphazard prep is better than none. The bottle drops to the ground and rolls across the floor but he doesn't even look up. Instead, the witch focuses his attention on helping Cú, guiding him into place and murmuring encouragement through the kiss as he enters him.
But his voice cracks again as his cock grinds into him and, in spite of himself, Diarmuid grips at his lover's shoulders. Half way, then-]
Cú-
[That one syllable feels like it takes the last of his breath away but it's the weak groan that follows it that truly does it. He's trying to take it slow, he really is, but it's hard when he so intensely wants to feel every last inch of him.]
no subject
But his voice cracks again as his cock grinds into him and, in spite of himself, Diarmuid grips at his lover's shoulders. Half way, then-]
Cú-
[That one syllable feels like it takes the last of his breath away but it's the weak groan that follows it that truly does it. He's trying to take it slow, he really is, but it's hard when he so intensely wants to feel every last inch of him.]