Caleblingus

"You can finish in me if you lick it out after." Molly says, as if that second part is a punishment and not a shock that goes straight to Caleb's dick. It doesn't take long after that, with Molly all wet and eager and /clenching/ under him; he gasps into Molly's shoulder when he spends himself, imagines it from a different perspective, the mess and the ache of it. The little pulses of aftershock move through Molly's body to his own until it's too much to take and he pulls away, thighs burning from the strain.

Molly makes no attempt to move; stays spent and spread-legged on the mattress with his flicking tail and satisfied grin the only signs of life in him. After a long moment, he speaks. "Impeccable form, Widogast. I'd call you a good boy if I knew you were into that sort of thing."

Caleb feels his face redden, and deeper still at Molly's resulting peals of laughter. They haven't discussed /that/, nor many other things, Caleb can only assume, but Molly is good at needling little gems of honesty of people. He knows what he needs to know in order to make Caleb stutter.

"I assume you still want me to…" Caleb gestures vaguely between Molly's still-spread legs, just to have something to say.

Molly rolls his eyes and adjusts his hips. "Not sure I was done teasing you yet, but… yes. If you would."

Caleb has been between the thighs of a few lovers - he knows the typical order, a few kisses to the thighs that turn to bites, a teasing lick to start, et cetera - but Molly is unlike any of the others, and also he can see his own spend pooling at the breech of his hole, so he wastes no time licking broad up Molly's cunt, all the way to his still-swollen clit until his thighs jolt like twin lightning strikes.

"/Fuck/," he swears, "gentle, darling, it's sensitive after you--"

Molly interrupts himself with a gasp as Caleb inches his tongue inside him, and if it wasn't muffled by his body he's sure Molly would've commented on Caleb's moaning; the taste of him is /different/ inside, richer, like iron and firewood, and he swallows it down until his jaw clicks. Caleb's own come isn't as appealing, but in the context, it doesn't turn him off. He thinks about it again, of Molly holding it inside himself, or playing with it after Caleb has gone to his own room for the night, bringing his fingers to taste. It's too soon for Caleb to get hard again, but the thought makes him salivate, adds to the mess between Molly's legs until it's so slick he can barely find purchase when he wraps his lips around the nub of his cock and sucks.

Molly comes again with a sound so broken and desperate it seems almost as if from another person. A more watery fluid trickles against Caleb's face as he tenses and shakes and holds his head in place, and Caleb would suffocate like this if Molly asked, he thinks.

It's almost ninety-five seconds before Molly's catches his breath enough to speak. Caleb counts them subconsciously from the pillow he's made of Molly's thigh, attention split between his face and the pretty colours of his sex, violets and fuchsias.

"Ten minutes and I'll return the favour. Or I'll have fallen asleep. We'll see."

Caleb laughs at that, and it's like the act makes his body remember how sore it's become. His spine feels worn as he lays himself down next to Molly, his own heartbeat heavy in his ears. Molly shifts closer, lazily drapes a leg over Caleb's thighs, and really, the second part sounds just as good.