"Promise," Kirk said, knowing Fenris needed the verbal acknowledgement rather than something noncomittal like a moan, tempting as just that simple response was. He sincerely doubted that Fenris would do anything he disliked, and even if he did, they would quickly find something else that worked for them both.

Kirk's lips parted for Fenris, inviting him while his legs shifted and relaxed. His own fingers rose up, tangling in the silver hair to keep Fenris against his mouth. His hips rose, pushing against the fingers, giving permission - needing it even. He wanted more from Fenris in that moment, the roughness, that demand and control Fenris had been taking. But he could seek that later, when they were more sure of themselves in these particular moments together.

"Fenris..." he murmured, tugging at the elf's bottom lip with his teeth.