Lancelot's relative inexperience in these fields is showing as he finds himself a great shade of cherry red in the face, the cause being somewhere between his own arousal and Percival's words. His breaths are quick and short and he looked more like he had just done some rigorous physical activity than have let Percival have his way with him.
He feels like he's being examined, like nothing will stop Percival from his exploration over his body. It was almost as if the other had wondered upon many an occasion what it would be like to touch him, to feel him and to spend his time admiring him. That in itself is a thought that sends Lancelot's head in a tailspin, because it is slowly starting to sink in that Percival wanted him and him alone. Percival, from the House of Wales - a noble from a high background who women (and men) flocked to in drove compared to some fairly ordinary boy from a no name village in the kingdom. The pulsing in between his legs becomes more difficult to ignore and he almost wants to close his legs. (He can't really though, cause there's a Percival in the way.)
Opting to wrap his legs lightly around the other's waist, Lancelot shudders as Percival's tongue finds its way to his chest. He knows that this is just a taste of what's to come later, but he can't help but already be overinundated with blissful sensations. Lancelot lets out a moan before stifling it by biting his lip. The man is almost embarrassed to admit how aroused he is, how much he really wants Percival to take him and how much there is an aching want not just in his chest but in his lower abdomen. He wants to say something, but every attempt to start a sentence doesn't seem to come out right. Some indistinct sound of pleasure leaves mouth instead and it's driving him insane.
Finally letting one hand go from digging into Percival's shoulder, Lancelot brings it to his mouth as if to prevent more sounds from leaving him. He honestly did not expect him to be this good, but he did have one flaw in underestimating what Percival could do.
tfw percy wouldn't approve of this icon choice but the idea is the same
He feels like he's being examined, like nothing will stop Percival from his exploration over his body. It was almost as if the other had wondered upon many an occasion what it would be like to touch him, to feel him and to spend his time admiring him. That in itself is a thought that sends Lancelot's head in a tailspin, because it is slowly starting to sink in that Percival wanted him and him alone. Percival, from the House of Wales - a noble from a high background who women (and men) flocked to in drove compared to some fairly ordinary boy from a no name village in the kingdom. The pulsing in between his legs becomes more difficult to ignore and he almost wants to close his legs. (He can't really though, cause there's a Percival in the way.)
Opting to wrap his legs lightly around the other's waist, Lancelot shudders as Percival's tongue finds its way to his chest. He knows that this is just a taste of what's to come later, but he can't help but already be overinundated with blissful sensations. Lancelot lets out a moan before stifling it by biting his lip. The man is almost embarrassed to admit how aroused he is, how much he really wants Percival to take him and how much there is an aching want not just in his chest but in his lower abdomen. He wants to say something, but every attempt to start a sentence doesn't seem to come out right. Some indistinct sound of pleasure leaves mouth instead and it's driving him insane.
Finally letting one hand go from digging into Percival's shoulder, Lancelot brings it to his mouth as if to prevent more sounds from leaving him. He honestly did not expect him to be this good, but he did have one flaw in underestimating what Percival could do.