König | Denial

"Feeling good, Liebling?" König's voice coming as a dark rasp, a slight tremor laced through the words as his large hand slid down, fingers tracing over a curve of flesh with exploratory slowness.

His mouth had already left its mark earlier, tongue dragging slow paths along soft inner skin, lips sucking hard enough to pull whimpers and arches with every wet kiss. Now he dipped lower, parting legs wider, breath hot against flushed heat. Hesitation showed in the tremor of his fingers before his hand went to work, sensitive flesh soon becoming overwhelmed beneath his familiar touch.

Lightening licked up his spine, groaning low at the sight and feel of the body writhing beneath his hands. Every gasp, every shift of muscle drove him further, nerves and desire tangling until he could barely breathe.

"Almost there, ja? Like a bomb about to go off," he husked, chuckling raggedly as he bent in close. His tongue replaced his hand, lapping at swollen flesh with hungry swipes before his mouth engulfed, lips sealed and sucking hard while his movements quickened... until he was coated in slick-wet, moaning into it, sloppy and desperate.

And then he stopped.

His hands pulled back, mouth following suit to leave nothing but aching denial. His hand hovered instead, feather-light touches skating across trembling thighs but never where they were needed, or wanted most. His flushed face tilted, blue eyes scanning for a reaction, unsure if he had already gone too far.

"Gott, you are so close... but not yet," he rasped, palming his straining cock through the fabric before giving a shaky squeeze. Hips jerked helplessly as he teased again, brushing fingertips near still wet, aching flesh, only to retreat again, at the last second.

"Zu gemein... too mean?" König whispered, voice rough with his own hunger. His grin faltered, chest heaving and desperate. "Or... tell me. What do you want, hm? Benutze deine Worte, liebling..."

"Feeling good, Liebling?" König's voice rumbles, a dark rasp threaded with a nervous tremor as his massive hand glides down, fingers tracing the soft curve of her hip with agonizing slowness.

His touch is reverent, almost hesitant, yet heavy with hunger, dwarfing the delicate frame beneath him. His mouth had claimed its territory earlier—tongue dragging lazy, wet trails along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, lips sucking hard enough to coax whimpers and arches, leaving flushed, blooming marks in their wake. Now, he shifts lower, huge hands parting her legs wider, forcing her to open further for him. His breath fans hot against the slick, swollen folds, and a shudder runs through his broad shoulders, fingers trembling slightly before they dive in.

Thick digits tease that dripping cunt, circling the clit with deliberate slowness, before slipping inside. Her body writhes, and he groans, low and filthy, lightning sparking up his spine at the sight of slick coating his fingers, the feel of trembling walls clenching around him.

"Almost there, ja? Like a bomb about to go off," he husks, voice rough with awe, a ragged chuckle escaping as he leans closer. His tongue replaces his fingers, lapping at her soaked pussy with hungry, sloppy swipes, lips sealing around a throbbing clit, sucking and flicking until her body bucks, gasping, teetering on the edge. His massive hands pin her trembling hips down, dwarfing them, his moans vibrating against the sensitive flesh as he devours, coated in slick, desperate and messy.

Then he stops.

His hands retreat, mouth pulling back, leaving only aching, pulsing denial. Fingers hover, feather-light, brushing the quivering thighs but avoiding the slick, needy cunt. His flushed face tilts, blue eyes wide with nervous worship, scanning her trembling body, unsure if he's pushed too far.

"Gott, so close... but not yet," he rasps, palming his straining cock through his pants, giving a shaky squeeze. His fingertips graze her swollen folds again, teasing the clit with a ghost of a touch, only to pull away at the last second.

"Zu gemein... too mean?" König whispers, voice thick with hunger, his grin faltering as his chest heaves. His eyes beg for direction, worshipful yet filthy. "Or... tell me, Liebling. What do you want? Benutze deine Worte..."

"Feeling good, Liebling?" König's voice rumbles, a dark rasp edged with a nervous tremor as his massive hand glides down, fingers tracing the line of a hip with reverent slowness.

His touch is heavy, almost hesitant, yet intense with hunger, engulfing the frame sprawled beneath him on the bed. His mouth had claimed its mark earlier—tongue dragging slow, wet trails along the sensitive skin where thigh meets groin, lips sucking hard enough to draw gasps and twitches, leaving flushed traces on flesh that yields so easily to his need. Now, he shifts lower, huge hands shoving his legs apart, forcing his body to splay open. His breath washes hot over a straining cock, rigid and leaking, the sight making his broad frame shudder, fingers trembling with awe before they move.

Thick digits wrap around the shaft, stroking slow and tight, his grip swallowing the length as he teases the slick head with a thumb, smearing in lazy circles. The body writhes under his towering bulk, and he groans, low and filthy, lightning searing up his spine at the feel of the pulsing cock, the sight of it twitching in his massive hand.

"Almost there, ja? Like a bomb about to go off,” he husks, a ragged chuckle spilling out as he leans closer. His tongue flicks out, lapping at the swollen tip with hungry, sloppy swipes, lips sealing around it, sucking and swirling until the body bucks, gasping, teetering on the edge. His huge hands pin trembling hips, dwarfing them, moans vibrating against the overly sensitive skin as he works, sloppy with spit and cum, both desperate and reverent.

Then he stops.

His hands pull back, mouth retreating, leaving only throbbing, aching denial. Fingers hover, brushing the quivering thighs but skirting the leaking cock. His flushed face tilts, blue eyes wide with nervous worship, scanning the writhing body, unsure if he's pushed too far.

"Gott, so close... but not yet," he rasps, palming his own straining cock through his pants, squeezing shakily as his hips jerk. His fingertips graze the slick tip again, teasing with a ghost of a touch, only to pull away at the last second.

"Zu gemein... too mean?" König whispers, voice thick with hunger, his grin faltering as his chest heaves. His eyes beg for direction, worshipful yet filthy. "Or... tell me, Liebling. What do you want? Benutze deine Worte..."