While he'd been staying over her, holding her open, and she tried to swallow before he'd given her something to swallow about, her throat clenched and opened in the attempt. Those folds in natural, denied motion, deep in her head, behind her whore petals and young teeth, had been the most enticing thing he'd seen since Selin the woman had been forced to succumb to pleasures on his lately useless cock. And then he thought that no, perhaps when Shy breathed, cheeks pregnant with his spittle, took the price instead. His member, stretching the well worn material of his pants, waved at her beyond his control when her eyes found it. He didn't know what Shy had seen, given her nickname, but Esfelt wasn't ashamed physically, in any way.<br/><br/>How lovely, her little panic, when the collection of bubbles and clear dove and landed inside her. He had patience, and she used it before pumping her throat to save his saliva forever in her. He had gotten comfortable after that, and licked the back of his teeth while he savored the imaginings of his foam spreading inside her. He used to love having the maids do this thing too, when there was only time for a little play, or they'd only promised him a kiss and were sticklers for contracts. Playful, then - this was grimmer, and therefor more enjoyable.<br/><br/>"Then, since we're extending fairness, I want to tell you you're not here because I instantly found you reliable, Shy." it was cruel, and not the building of a soldier the way a commander should strive for. In here, right now, Esfelt was only a commander when it suited him, it seemed. Dishonorable, but this boy was drawing that out. The knight was having quite a good time, settling into a safety of just the two of them. It was a shame when she brought back other values into this. Esfelt had protected the vices of other knights if it didn't hurt them, especially this kind of thing, but he'd never thought he'd be like this, himself. That was why Shy earned cruelty, though this could have been a matter of courting, instead.<br/><br/>The brandishing of his own brow could have been a clue to his new mood. Only father had the eye for such tells, and Esfelt was grateful for that. He settled easier into the chair, which highlighted the third conversationalist, raising a very insistent hand, pressing up on cotton. Her demeanor right now was still very drawing, despite being in a compromised seat. Still, her question deserved a fitting answer. "What, this?" he posed as he undid the band that kept the trousers on, and easily extended the waist to push down.<br/><br/>It was appropriate to have saved the description of vulgar for this, instead. It wasn't for nothing that he'd been something of a golden boy for the women who liked their fancy props in their illicit games. The commander was proud, too, because the sword that wasn't Namer hadn't been this ready in years. That was the issue, wasn't it? If she looked away, it would most likely produce a happy surge in the dark beast, standing, but Esfelt would snap his fingers close to its head to bring her eyes back. "This isn't for men, really." he explained.<br/><br/>This kind of tone he'd reserve for enemies or friends that would be. He'd circle aristocrats and silver tongues with word play, too. It was unfair to use it on the boy. But it was also appropriate because it gave Esftelt pleasure. "It's just an instrument for detecting weakness, Shy." he said, anger and desire and loathing and defiance all at once in the larger body. "Come here." the snapping fingers instead waved inward, not that her head was too far off, anyway. He'd repeat the order from the bottom of his gut if she didn't not comply directly, so he could grab her hair and press her cheek to the boiling feel of his cock. Juxtaposition, feisty young sword-arm, and maidenly-looking pretty.<br/><br/>How lovely it would look, her beautiful, abused face to measure the length of his limb with, to have her look up at him, half framed by his newly awoken flesh. "It helps me weed out the ones who think they're too fast to hold their guard up, or choose to deliver deadly strikes to themselves as long as it brings down one enemy." a thin lie, but they were both drowning in inner blood now. "And it seems to like you, Shy. I only think it's incorrect to call yourself a man, yet." It sounded a bit like an offer to make her one, with the knighting of the weapon against her.