[ of course he wouldn't be able to resist teasing him when there's someone right there to hear it; he's sated but not stupid. to keep that little sound buried in the back of his throat, he occupies his mouth with sucking the lobe of his ear into his mouth, rolling that tender new piercing around on his tongue, content enough to thwart him in this when he's let him take full advantage of their situation all evening already. he isn't exactly the only one getting spoiled here. ]
[ after all... isn't this something like... their first official date? the first time they ever addressed it openly, called it what it was, showed up with giddy paws eager to explore and play. it makes him happier than he thinks he has any right to be. ]
[ his free hand, the one not still pinning them together, follows Gojou's around his waist and guides it gently; he presses his palm and those long fingers low on his flat belly, as though he were trying to get him to stroke his own dick still buried in him through muscle and sinew. it starts a shivery little rhythm that has him groaning low and soft, tender and defenseless, as he sucks on Gojou's tongue, curls and presses and wrangles with it, eager to share every sensory delight they can muster. and when he drinks, he does so deeply, the cold whip of sake down his tongue doing absolutely nothing to stop the clouds from rolling in. it tastes better when run through someone else's tongue, gone nectar-sweet. ]
[ two things paradoxically exist inside of Getou at the same time, after all: discipline and a love of indulgence. maybe it's the severity of his restrictions upon himself that make him so prone to temptation — Gojou's temptation specifically, for better or worse. he doesn't want to stop kissing him or sitting on his cock or getting every inch of his body worshipped and admired, spoiled under the attention of the Six Eyes and the infatuation of their wielder. the sake is best joined by the fish; he joins Gojou in fetching things off the table, pinching the soft flesh of pink fish between his fingers and dropping it in his mouth as his head leans back on that shoulder again, recumbent. the meat is so tender and fresh it melts on his tongue. his praise for the chef is a purr, eyes lidding. ]
Satoru... [ his hand lays back on his, lacing their fingers together on top of his stomach. his voice is soft and sincere, head shifting to look at him again. ] Thank you... for tonight.
no subject
[ after all... isn't this something like... their first official date? the first time they ever addressed it openly, called it what it was, showed up with giddy paws eager to explore and play. it makes him happier than he thinks he has any right to be. ]
[ his free hand, the one not still pinning them together, follows Gojou's around his waist and guides it gently; he presses his palm and those long fingers low on his flat belly, as though he were trying to get him to stroke his own dick still buried in him through muscle and sinew. it starts a shivery little rhythm that has him groaning low and soft, tender and defenseless, as he sucks on Gojou's tongue, curls and presses and wrangles with it, eager to share every sensory delight they can muster. and when he drinks, he does so deeply, the cold whip of sake down his tongue doing absolutely nothing to stop the clouds from rolling in. it tastes better when run through someone else's tongue, gone nectar-sweet. ]
[ two things paradoxically exist inside of Getou at the same time, after all: discipline and a love of indulgence. maybe it's the severity of his restrictions upon himself that make him so prone to temptation — Gojou's temptation specifically, for better or worse. he doesn't want to stop kissing him or sitting on his cock or getting every inch of his body worshipped and admired, spoiled under the attention of the Six Eyes and the infatuation of their wielder. the sake is best joined by the fish; he joins Gojou in fetching things off the table, pinching the soft flesh of pink fish between his fingers and dropping it in his mouth as his head leans back on that shoulder again, recumbent. the meat is so tender and fresh it melts on his tongue. his praise for the chef is a purr, eyes lidding. ]
Satoru... [ his hand lays back on his, lacing their fingers together on top of his stomach. his voice is soft and sincere, head shifting to look at him again. ] Thank you... for tonight.