Don’t think I have much self-control… then let me prove you wrong. [ he leans in to glide his tongue over the wing, taking a mouthful of feathers and working them with his tongue. he hums to send small vibrations along to sunday as his hand takes care of the opposite wing. the sound deepens, morphing into a groan as their clothes dicks grate each other through thin fabric. ] Let me hear you moan. [ he whispers against his cheek, his second mouth opening so its tongue can drag over the precum stained from of his pants. ] I want to taste you, Sunday. If you turn around… I’ll prep you. [ he’s already considering working him open using his second mouth’s tongue, so he can nibble his ass and up his backside. ]