‍‍ ‍ ‍𝐃𝐦𝒊𝐭𝐫𝐢. @sourvene

“You’re adorable,” he whispered, pressing tender kisses over chilled skin as though warmth could be gifted through each touch. His breath lingered when he murmured again, softer this time, “Dietrich, you really do ache for me, don’t you?” / @viseuofsin

@sourvene.

twisted into something he could lose—was unbearable. “It makes me sick to imagine her smile turned toward you,” he confessed, a side of him almost no one was meant to see. / @viseuofsin

without realizing it. His words slipped out low, carrying the fear that gnawed at him. “Promise me you won’t leave.” It was not control he sought, but reassurance, the one anchor he could cling to. The thought of those blue eyes—so close to his own, like a reflection⠀...

* Good morning, and apologies for arriving rather late. As the senders of the tweet below, we truly hold your warm reception in sincere regard. We’re genuinely looking forward to the interactions ahead, and we deeply appreciate the kindness shown to us, especially Dmitri! :]

“I’m curious,” a finger kept tracing the back of @viseuofsin’s hand, eyes fixed somewhere else. “Who was talking to you this afternoon?”

again, softer now, as if his whole body had quieted to listen. And in that stillness, where nothing else reached them, Dmitri whispered his name once more. / @viseuofsin

Dmitri’s lips returned to his shoulder, to the hollow just beneath his collarbone, placing a kiss that was less hunger and more reverence. Through warmth. Through closeness. Through the way they could still tremble for each other after all this time. His breath caught⠀...

hid behind breath. He was ready to be taken in full, to let Dietrich see all of him, even the pieces he used to hide. And in that gaze, heavy with want, there was no hesitation—only the tender, reckless truth of someone who had long since chosen to belong.⠀...

other name would ever fit into the spaces he’d filled. And when his legs, once held close together like a secret, finally parted beneath him—slowly, almost reverently—it was a silent offering. The pale blue in his eyes had grown cloudy, veiled by desire so raw it barely⠀...

his white strands—matching his own—until soft moans slipped from his lips, low and warm, as if each one were an echo of memory being made. He was painting himself into Dietrich, imprinting things that couldn’t be washed away, a devotion so quiet yet so consuming that no⠀...

made him feel alive. The word life was no longer abstract; it lived in the way Dietrich touched him, in the way their breath tangled between quiet gasps, in the sound of his name whispered with reverence. Those same hands, trembling only slightly, threaded gently through⠀...

longer hold that name, even when his hands no longer remembered the curve of Dietrich’s shoulder, some part of him would still be reaching. But the ache of time felt far away tonight. There was no need to mourn what hadn’t happened, not when everything about this moment⠀...

closeness, even as the night had only just begun to unfold. / @viseuofsin

like one. It felt like the only way he knew how to love. So he let it guide his hands, dragging them down Dietrich’s thighs with the kind of urgency that trembled just beneath control, a quiet pleading in the way his fingers pressed deeper, searching for more warmth, more⠀...

Dmitri’s thoughts blurred until there was only one thing left—him. Just him. Maybe it was true, what his parents used to say—that he was impatient, too easily flustered, too quick to want. He’d always thought it was a fault, but in moments like this, it didn’t feel⠀...

It was too much in the gentlest way—how beautiful Dietrich looked beneath the dim, golden light that filtered across the room, like something sculpted out of memory and longing, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to ask for attention because it had already taken all of his.⠀...

Dietrich's body responded beneath his hands, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not even for a moment. His fingers remained where they were, still roaming, still tracing the skin they knew so well, as though each touch could steady the ache blooming in his chest.⠀...

itself could speak what his mouth couldn’t say aloud: that this wasn’t hunger, wasn’t seduction, wasn’t habit. It was something far older, far deeper, something that lived in his marrow and woke with every touch. / @viseuofsin

kissed each finger like he was tracing devotion into bone. His tongue slid between them, warm and reverent, until one was resting fully against it—then past it. He closed his lips around the digit and let it rest there, quiet and full and still watching him, as if the act⠀...