[ a soft parrot, shaky on its first syllable with the delightful way his hips are raising up beneath his throne, eyes bright and warm. he can't help it; it's impossible not to play with his food when Gojou looks so cute and... and a little pathetic, a little needy. a hand goes back, returning the cask to the table. ]
We keep ending up like this... [ if he's scolding anything here, it's probably his own lack of discipline. the liquor isn't helping, a ruddy heat on his cheeks and in his guts. Suguru takes his cup from the table and finishes what he started: pouring the drink out on Satoru's heaving chest. the wine pools on his sternum but runs south with the slope of his body. Getou heads it off between the wings of his ribs, drinking mouth and lashing tongue sucking up liquor from fair skin and replacing its chill, the falling tips of his hair tickling everything in his path. ]
[ he follows the hollows of Satoru's body still, running his tongue along the dip of his collarbone, the pulse in his throat — until he's kissing his way up the corner of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, smiling there like a cat who ate the canary. ]
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[ a soft parrot, shaky on its first syllable with the delightful way his hips are raising up beneath his throne, eyes bright and warm. he can't help it; it's impossible not to play with his food when Gojou looks so cute and... and a little pathetic, a little needy. a hand goes back, returning the cask to the table. ]
We keep ending up like this... [ if he's scolding anything here, it's probably his own lack of discipline. the liquor isn't helping, a ruddy heat on his cheeks and in his guts. Suguru takes his cup from the table and finishes what he started: pouring the drink out on Satoru's heaving chest. the wine pools on his sternum but runs south with the slope of his body. Getou heads it off between the wings of his ribs, drinking mouth and lashing tongue sucking up liquor from fair skin and replacing its chill, the falling tips of his hair tickling everything in his path. ]
[ he follows the hollows of Satoru's body still, running his tongue along the dip of his collarbone, the pulse in his throat — until he's kissing his way up the corner of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, smiling there like a cat who ate the canary. ]
What do you think we should do about that?