[ There's a soft sound that leaves him as he parts his lips to receive you, one that's matched with the way he tries to push up from the bed, and the way the muscles along his arms have tensed as he tests the grip you have on his wrists.
He's always been big on touch. The fact that he can't touch you with his hands is prompting him to compensate with the ones he can: his mouth, his tongue on yours.
There's a hitch in his breath when he feels you come close to touching him, and for a moment, he breaks off from kissing you, settling back to lifting his lips to yours not long after. ]
Touch me, please?
[ He knows, even as the words leave him, that it's likely a useless thing to ask. But you're killing him slowly like this and his cock has hardened even more, as if straining for your hand to take it. ]
no subject
He's always been big on touch. The fact that he can't touch you with his hands is prompting him to compensate with the ones he can: his mouth, his tongue on yours.
There's a hitch in his breath when he feels you come close to touching him, and for a moment, he breaks off from kissing you, settling back to lifting his lips to yours not long after. ]
Touch me, please?
[ He knows, even as the words leave him, that it's likely a useless thing to ask. But you're killing him slowly like this and his cock has hardened even more, as if straining for your hand to take it. ]