Rowan closed his eyes in the blackness behind his blindfold. His body went completely lax in the silk of his restraints.
Now that Wren had found his target, he thrust into Rowan with a single-minded determination, giving a new meaning to the word slow. His lust spilled into the breaths that gusted against Rowan's shoulder as he moved. His fingers splayed low on on Rowan's belly as if trying go feel himself pushing from the inside with his own hand.
Rowan felt dizzy from the intensity of his focus. After the first few brushes against the sensitive spot that had become Wren's sole reason for existing, Rowan gave himself over to the slow build up of pressure inside him.
It demanded all of his attention, this punishment that was no punishment at all.
