Otter Creek I'll [m]ake your timber shiver

Roles had been reversed, he'd known it to be so the second the other had began adjusting himself. Unlike with the sea wench, he was not the one meant to give this time, but the one made to receive. The idea unsettled him, made him nervous, but he couldn't bring himself to stop the happenings to come. A part of him wanted it, and badly, but another part of him was still unable to grasp exactly what he wanted. He didn't wish to lose his family, not over the doings of a stranger, but he couldn't contain the eager feeling that burned within his groin. It was the first thing that he'd desired so badly that it almost felt as if he needed it, and, right then, he'd decided that he wasn't going to let his fear of the possibilities prevent him from receiving it.

Alexander had been given little time to prepare before the other's entrance was made, resulting in a yelp of surprise—it was a sound that he'd long since forgotten that he was capable of making—having slipped past parted lips. It was followed by a near silent whine, pain having been felt, but soon ignored as the motions of the act were carried out. His tongue had found its way out of his mouth, panting ensuing in an effort to relieve his body of the increasing heat. Yet never had he cooled down, skin feeling almost as if it were burning beneath his coat. And as the motions slowed, he'd thought an end was being reached, but never had the other retracted himself. He'd remained there instead, urging the albino to shift in an effort to get him moving again; whether it was because of this or not that Adonis had picked up his pace, Xan didn't know for sure, nor did he really care. He was just relieved that he'd started back up, his previous worries having retreated to the recesses of his mind.

Words came, riding out on a snarl that made the beating of his heart increase. It'd taken a moment or two for the statement to register within his mind, attention being far from speech, but once it had he'd issued a growl of his own. "I'm no one's," he'd retorted, his words coming out breathy, rather than with the harsh tone he'd been aiming for. For Xan, however, that did not make the statement any less true.