[Matt's fingers linger, still amazed at the weight and size of the stallion's cock, even relaxed and limp. He's still aching, throbbing between his own drenched thighs, and he feels like he could easily go again, could stroke the massive beast back to full arousal and take him properly this time. But the soft sounds draw his attention, and, knees wobbling, come cooling and drying, sealing his thin clothes to his shivering body, he crawls to one side, stands.
Fingers dragging through the mess across his face, Matt absently sucks the digits clean, standing as tall as he can on little hooves, reaching to untie the rope around the stallion's human wrists. He can't reach the gag, but if the centaur bends down, perhaps he --
-- and then the smell, the sound, the shape all comes together in a moment of gut-clenching clarity, and Matt forgets about everything else because he knows. He knows. His voice is very very hoarse, eyes wide, tracing the familiar features in the half-lit stall.]
no subject
Fingers dragging through the mess across his face, Matt absently sucks the digits clean, standing as tall as he can on little hooves, reaching to untie the rope around the stallion's human wrists. He can't reach the gag, but if the centaur bends down, perhaps he --
-- and then the smell, the sound, the shape all comes together in a moment of gut-clenching clarity, and Matt forgets about everything else because he knows. He knows. His voice is very very hoarse, eyes wide, tracing the familiar features in the half-lit stall.]
...Shiro.