[ That drop has a low, thick noise pressed to the back of his throat, almost a growl, and his free hand snakes upwards the curl in the short strands of hair at the back of Taylor's head. Slow. Easy. But that doesn't mean he won't tug him down when he feels him start to drop. It doesn't mean there aren't teeth nipping right back at the edge of Taylor's mouth.
That rawness is starting to edge away. In its place is something warm and twisting. Heavy. Secure. It locks in place until the need for it has ended, keeping him anchored while they move together, his eyelids heavy and his mouth seeking claim against Taylor's own. ]
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That rawness is starting to edge away. In its place is something warm and twisting. Heavy. Secure. It locks in place until the need for it has ended, keeping him anchored while they move together, his eyelids heavy and his mouth seeking claim against Taylor's own. ]