Anael

Anael made a soft, happy sound into that kiss when Robin first pushed in quite that deep. As he had told him once, he was difficult to hurt, and he could take the impressive length of the puck, but he was simply not used to taking quite this much, and that, too, felt wonderful. He broke the kiss to take an unnecessary breath, and shivered with pleasure at Robin's oh so light touch. "Robin," he breathed out, lost to pleasure and love, fingers brushing the puck's hair. "Oh, Robin," again, as his strokes grew more firm, Anael's hand shifted to Robin's back again, came to rest on the side of his ribcage, hips shifting to meet his on each wonderfully slow, wonderfully long push.