He's so cooked

Image Description

Drunk off of Criticality's (he/him) pure magic essence, Adra (they/them) rolls their hips against his cock.

Adra: Ahh... I need it...
Crit: Gnnnn!
Adra: I need it inside me.

They pull on his collar, burying their face against Criticality's neck and jaw, muttering pleadingly in their sultry, smoky voice.

Adra: *whine*
Crit: hmmn...
Adra: (small) please...
Caption (pointing at Crit): doing so much math to see if he can put it inside them without blowing immediately.