[He has a bit of a thrill in his chest at the idea and he can imagine Hawke now, maybe still in bed, maybe palming himself through his pants, if not touching himself outright and suddenly Anders needs to know. Or needs it to be true. Needs to know that broad and calloused hand is wrapped around Hawke's length because of Anders' words. At the thought of what Anders could do to him.]
Are you touching yourself, love? Are you imagining your hand around your base is mine? Imagining the feeling of how my lips slowly work down your cock?
I would take the whole thing. The tip would reach the back of my throat and keep going. I would go slow, torturing you with my tongue and sucking at the tip.
[He sent the message and whatever work he was doing was forgotten as he waited and let his imagination paint both pictures in his mind: the one he was describing and the one he was hoping was playing out in their bed.]
no subject
Are you touching yourself, love? Are you imagining your hand around your base is mine? Imagining the feeling of how my lips slowly work down your cock?
I would take the whole thing. The tip would reach the back of my throat and keep going. I would go slow, torturing you with my tongue and sucking at the tip.
[He sent the message and whatever work he was doing was forgotten as he waited and let his imagination paint both pictures in his mind: the one he was describing and the one he was hoping was playing out in their bed.]