[ In those moments his eyes aren't forced close in a wince at the sensation of Siegfried thrusting him beneath him, he takes in the sight of the other man, the flushed colour to his skin, his clouded golden eyes and the way his composure seems to come undone with every movement Percival makes. There's also those sounds he can hear, low and rumbling and dripping with need, and he can feel this memory becoming a fixation in his mind for a while - he's going to be thinking about this much more than he would like to admit. The pettier part of Percival entertains the idea of being the only person who gets to see Siegfried in this state, but even he knows that cannot be true.
Having found the spot where the pleasure is at its highest, he fucks himself harder upon it, taking Siegfried in deeper and rougher, pushing the limits of his own body so the tired ache from within feels more divine. At some point he knows he's using Siegfried to chase his own orgasm, and there's some measure of shame in the thought of being so selfish and lustful, but he's too far over the edge to cease. The harshness over his nipples has him gasping, and he's swimming in more and more need. ]
Siegfried ... [ He breathes out, the other man's name sounding more like a breathy moan than any attempt at coherent speech. ] I'm close.
[ The ruts become harsher, Percival so lost in the moment he abandons all ceremony and impales his body onto that cock he's developed such a craving for. When he knows he's almost at that point, he drives Siegfried deeper into himself with rough force, groaning loudly as the pressure finally takes him over the edge.
Unable to control himself, he finishes against Siegfried's body, dirtying his chest with the white seed. Percival's energy seems to sap from his body afterward, movements becoming sluggish. With Siegfried still buried in him, he's content sitting there on his lap, holding him and leaning against his shoulder. ]
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Having found the spot where the pleasure is at its highest, he fucks himself harder upon it, taking Siegfried in deeper and rougher, pushing the limits of his own body so the tired ache from within feels more divine. At some point he knows he's using Siegfried to chase his own orgasm, and there's some measure of shame in the thought of being so selfish and lustful, but he's too far over the edge to cease. The harshness over his nipples has him gasping, and he's swimming in more and more need. ]
Siegfried ... [ He breathes out, the other man's name sounding more like a breathy moan than any attempt at coherent speech. ] I'm close.
[ The ruts become harsher, Percival so lost in the moment he abandons all ceremony and impales his body onto that cock he's developed such a craving for. When he knows he's almost at that point, he drives Siegfried deeper into himself with rough force, groaning loudly as the pressure finally takes him over the edge.
Unable to control himself, he finishes against Siegfried's body, dirtying his chest with the white seed. Percival's energy seems to sap from his body afterward, movements becoming sluggish. With Siegfried still buried in him, he's content sitting there on his lap, holding him and leaning against his shoulder. ]