[ the shift of Gojou's body closer changes his angle ever so slightly and it has him stuttering, slowing, trembling; there's a chest to his back and he trusts it, that when he arches and the connecting points of their hips and shoulders meet, he can rest the weight of his head back over his shoulder, sending black hair tumbling over him instead. and it feels almost unfair — that Gojou would know how to fuck him so well for as infrequently as he gets to do it, how he finds that painfully, sinfully good angle and just wrings everything out of him he possibly can. ]
[ his thighs burn, belly tight, balls drawn up — and still he fights it, tries to push it off, tries to just enjoy what it feels like to have his best friend buried, stretching, pounding against what makes him squirm and writhe with ecstasy. with his head resting on Gojou's shoulder, his eyes are cloudy and sightless with the haze of absolute rapture. ]
Yes— yes, yes, just like that... oh god...
[ his cock pulses where it's balanced on the bone of Gojou's thumb — until it isn't, until it's in his fist and he pulls the ripcord in time with those teeth sinking into his throat. his flesh throbs between his fangs as though his blood were trying to enter him too. ]
Wait— [ but it's too late. he tells him to come but he's already there, tells him to make a mess but he's already throbbing and spilling, an overflowing, thick stream of semen pouring steadily out, and the sound he makes is part anguished sob and part euphoric yelp. his insides twitch and spasm and clench at absolutely nothing, and the emptiness plunges him sharply down, despairing what he lost in the same heartbeats that flood him with endorphins. it's the joy of falling into the sky running in tandem with knowing you're about to hit the ground. ]
[ he turns his head to look at him, convulsing in those throes as his hand forces him to ride it out... but his brows are pinched up and his expression is grief. ]
—back in, put it back in— [ his own fingers are scrambling to find him, too fucking messed up to do it himself, he's almost crying: ] Come inside me, you asshole...
no subject
[ his thighs burn, belly tight, balls drawn up — and still he fights it, tries to push it off, tries to just enjoy what it feels like to have his best friend buried, stretching, pounding against what makes him squirm and writhe with ecstasy. with his head resting on Gojou's shoulder, his eyes are cloudy and sightless with the haze of absolute rapture. ]
Yes— yes, yes, just like that... oh god...
[ his cock pulses where it's balanced on the bone of Gojou's thumb — until it isn't, until it's in his fist and he pulls the ripcord in time with those teeth sinking into his throat. his flesh throbs between his fangs as though his blood were trying to enter him too. ]
Wait— [ but it's too late. he tells him to come but he's already there, tells him to make a mess but he's already throbbing and spilling, an overflowing, thick stream of semen pouring steadily out, and the sound he makes is part anguished sob and part euphoric yelp. his insides twitch and spasm and clench at absolutely nothing, and the emptiness plunges him sharply down, despairing what he lost in the same heartbeats that flood him with endorphins. it's the joy of falling into the sky running in tandem with knowing you're about to hit the ground. ]
[ he turns his head to look at him, convulsing in those throes as his hand forces him to ride it out... but his brows are pinched up and his expression is grief. ]
—back in, put it back in— [ his own fingers are scrambling to find him, too fucking messed up to do it himself, he's almost crying: ] Come inside me, you asshole...