Arden's warm, wet tongue seems to take it's time, exploring the whole of Eris' smooth chest. He never applies his teeth, only that silky tongue and warm, soft lips, lapping at the skin, trading cool air for hot, then cool again. By the time Arden has made his way down to Eris' belly, he is breathing hard - it is few angels who are completely immune to the musk of an aroused ... well, anything and Arden is not one of those - and his hands kneading the muscles of Eris' thighs.<br/>Anything Eris says, Arden ignores, and he hesitates for a long moment before moving to taste the fluid dribbling out of Eris' throbbing dick, but when he does, he laps up the underside of the shaft, all the way to the tip in one smooth motion, taking the lot in that one long lick. As he does, his wingtips turn utterly black, with threads running up the feather-shafts, slowly making Arden's silver-white wings look almost like blued steel ...