( instinctively, aventurine attempts a laugh, and is punished all the same with blood splatters coming from his throat, sullying his clothes further, some of it even falling onto their joined hands. amidst his struggle, he has room to laugh in his mind, think that if nothing else, his blood can at least be used as lube. wouldn't that make it useful?
every attempt at inhaling leaves him wincing and wheezing - combined with the increased pleasure, it's torture in its own way. the moans that escape his throat are uncomfortable, a cacophony of incoherent noises that are hardly appealing. his expression contorts into something incomprehensible, and aventurine leans in again, rests his head on esikko's shoulder, succumbs to the overwhelming sensations.
he has nearly half a mind to attempt a warning, but decides against it before the feeling rising up from his stomach bursts into splutters, the high of his own climax leaving wreathes in his throat that deprive him further of air and forces him to hack up more blood. it's unsightly in every way possible, but he has even less of a mind to care about that at all. )
using my own health issues as experience for this tag like 💚
every attempt at inhaling leaves him wincing and wheezing - combined with the increased pleasure, it's torture in its own way. the moans that escape his throat are uncomfortable, a cacophony of incoherent noises that are hardly appealing. his expression contorts into something incomprehensible, and aventurine leans in again, rests his head on esikko's shoulder, succumbs to the overwhelming sensations.
he has nearly half a mind to attempt a warning, but decides against it before the feeling rising up from his stomach bursts into splutters, the high of his own climax leaving wreathes in his throat that deprive him further of air and forces him to hack up more blood. it's unsightly in every way possible, but he has even less of a mind to care about that at all. )