[ it knocks the wind out of him. he knew Gojou would do anything he asks and more, but so suddenly being filled again robs him of breath, throws his head back with shut eyes and ajar mouth in a silent but bliss-out scream. wasn't what he expected. he loves that about it— about Gojou— the addictive and contagious mix of trustworthy and wild. his hips buck and Getou's legs open wider for him, hips angling, pushing back into him... ]
[ you wouldn't think he'd have the energy to do it, but he's rocking back into him as Gojou starts bucking again, a whipcord of tightness channeling up his body from that searing nudge of his lover's cock where drives him crazy until it's at the nape of his neck, the back of his skull, a burning bloom in his lungs. his body is athletic and broad, and he likes the lactic burn of pushing muscle too far, working himself too hard. more than that, he likes the way Gojou fucks, raw and savage and pleasure-focused — everything he was raised, has taught himself not to be. ]
Sorry, I'll... draw you a map next ti- ah! Satoru....!
[ it seems they both need a little assistance, because the second Gojou's hand wraps around him, his goes to his mouth to suppress a broken cry; it becomes a swallowed grunt low in his throat, and with his fingers still clapped over his mouth and heaving that breath through his nose, those fucked-out, black eyes stay pointed right at him in his peripherals, watching him through every spasm and ache and twist of overstimulation, eagerly accepting everything he's given. his other hand — well, that one's a little more devious, slipping between his legs and settled on the other side of where Gojou's wrist lays to keep jacking him off, the bastard — ]
[ fingertips press and knead the root of his impaling cock as it pulls out... and when he's pushing in, Getou returns the same love he'd received, rolling his balls around in the wet, cum-slicked mess he did indeed make. the second orgasm that rips through him with absolutely no refractory period is even better than the first: maybe because of that added bit of pain, of discomfort, of accomplishment in pushing through... but more than likely because he feels Gojou throbbing inside of him, swelling and stroking and, best of all, spilling liquid heat inside of him, molten, full. his weight sags, and even though he can feel the hot trickle of it trying to escape, he presses Gojou's sack up to form as tight a seal as he can to keep it in. ]
[ feeling him shudder makes him do it too, a feedback loop he basks in with afterglow from every overwrought sensation. the constantly-brimming network of his thoughts has faded back into a dull, electric buzz he no longer needs or wants to acknowledge. he feels drunk, safe, and loved. ]
Mm... me? [ his laugh is soft, shaky. already so attentive, he catches Gojou's mouth with his own, licking him open, looking at him through smoky and reverent eyes. there's a knock on the door and he flinches, his insides clamping down on him again in shock... and after a few quick heartbeats, he clears his throat and calls: ] Please come back later.
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[ you wouldn't think he'd have the energy to do it, but he's rocking back into him as Gojou starts bucking again, a whipcord of tightness channeling up his body from that searing nudge of his lover's cock where drives him crazy until it's at the nape of his neck, the back of his skull, a burning bloom in his lungs. his body is athletic and broad, and he likes the lactic burn of pushing muscle too far, working himself too hard. more than that, he likes the way Gojou fucks, raw and savage and pleasure-focused — everything he was raised, has taught himself not to be. ]
Sorry, I'll... draw you a map next ti- ah! Satoru....!
[ it seems they both need a little assistance, because the second Gojou's hand wraps around him, his goes to his mouth to suppress a broken cry; it becomes a swallowed grunt low in his throat, and with his fingers still clapped over his mouth and heaving that breath through his nose, those fucked-out, black eyes stay pointed right at him in his peripherals, watching him through every spasm and ache and twist of overstimulation, eagerly accepting everything he's given. his other hand — well, that one's a little more devious, slipping between his legs and settled on the other side of where Gojou's wrist lays to keep jacking him off, the bastard — ]
[ fingertips press and knead the root of his impaling cock as it pulls out... and when he's pushing in, Getou returns the same love he'd received, rolling his balls around in the wet, cum-slicked mess he did indeed make. the second orgasm that rips through him with absolutely no refractory period is even better than the first: maybe because of that added bit of pain, of discomfort, of accomplishment in pushing through... but more than likely because he feels Gojou throbbing inside of him, swelling and stroking and, best of all, spilling liquid heat inside of him, molten, full. his weight sags, and even though he can feel the hot trickle of it trying to escape, he presses Gojou's sack up to form as tight a seal as he can to keep it in. ]
[ feeling him shudder makes him do it too, a feedback loop he basks in with afterglow from every overwrought sensation. the constantly-brimming network of his thoughts has faded back into a dull, electric buzz he no longer needs or wants to acknowledge. he feels drunk, safe, and loved. ]
Mm... me? [ his laugh is soft, shaky. already so attentive, he catches Gojou's mouth with his own, licking him open, looking at him through smoky and reverent eyes. there's a knock on the door and he flinches, his insides clamping down on him again in shock... and after a few quick heartbeats, he clears his throat and calls: ] Please come back later.