Host whimpered, and slowly started to move. He needed a little, before he found a good way to get himself moving up and down, and he tried his hardest to fuck himself on Google. Grunting, barely able to breathe enough through just his nose, but he continued, face red, eyes dripping a little bit of blood.
He squeezed around Google, moving as fast as he managed by himself, his own dick getting hard and drippy.
Google enjoyed the sight above him very much, a mix of bloody tears and clear difficulty breathing. He let himself moan, hands moving behind his head. “Make me come, pet,” he ordered, closing his eyes. He would not touch the Host himself, the other hadn’t really earned the right to orgasm yet. That would come later, in time.
Host nodded, eager, desperate. He wanted to be good, he wanted to be needed, to be liked. He wanted to be a good pet. Good pets were liked, and loved. He wanted that. He was so desperate to make Google come, giving it his all.
He didn’t care about cuming himself, as he worked, moving as fast and hard as he could, squeezing tight around Google, holding onto him, not getting enough air.
emptynarration 