With a smirk, Steve doesn't stop. Instead, he actually quickens his pace even more, the friction almost burning. His bird looks so good begging like this, digging fingers into his shoulder. Steve can feel how much this is excruciating for Clint if those fingers are any indication. He likes dishing out the pain, but he also likes receiving it, especially from someone who's so desperate like his pretty bird over here.
But, you know, what good is a bird if they're missing body parts, right? So Steve relents, slows down his pace after a while, gradually receding into a gentle stroke. He stops just before he can ruin his plaything, just enough to elicit the kind of reactions he wanted from his new toy. At one point, he lets go of Clint's nipple, hand still holding his cock but not stroking anymore.
Leaning back, Steve gazes at how he's slowly unraveling Clint. What a picture perfect image. With a gentle touch this time, one finger snakes down to Clint's perineum, slowly stroking it. Feeding it. Gone is the touch of a madman. Now Steve's touches are that of a careful lover. Because, at the end of the day, what's better than his bird begging him to stop, but for him to beg for more?
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With a smirk, Steve doesn't stop. Instead, he actually quickens his pace even more, the friction almost burning. His bird looks so good begging like this, digging fingers into his shoulder. Steve can feel how much this is excruciating for Clint if those fingers are any indication. He likes dishing out the pain, but he also likes receiving it, especially from someone who's so desperate like his pretty bird over here.
But, you know, what good is a bird if they're missing body parts, right? So Steve relents, slows down his pace after a while, gradually receding into a gentle stroke. He stops just before he can ruin his plaything, just enough to elicit the kind of reactions he wanted from his new toy. At one point, he lets go of Clint's nipple, hand still holding his cock but not stroking anymore.
Leaning back, Steve gazes at how he's slowly unraveling Clint. What a picture perfect image. With a gentle touch this time, one finger snakes down to Clint's perineum, slowly stroking it. Feeding it. Gone is the touch of a madman. Now Steve's touches are that of a careful lover. Because, at the end of the day, what's better than his bird begging him to stop, but for him to beg for more?