[ God, he hates that an electric shiver rips down his spine the instant Narumi closes the distance between them, the hard bounce of the mattress an immediate and very physical reminder of what’s coming next.
It doesn’t help, either, that the skewer’s influence has reached an unpleasant and unpleasantly familiar boil — its distressingly reminiscent of the heat that had overwhelmed him back during that springtime game, where he’d really been reduced to some animal hungry to breed. Obnoxious or not, Narumi is still a warm body placed before him, and his nerves feel itchy with the urge to lunge forth and press up against him, to rut and be rutted into. The next stroke of Narumi’s hand yields the obscene, slick noise of lube against hard flesh, and Fuuta shudders visibly, giving a wobbly exhale as he thoughtlessly rubs his thighs together. His own cock is starting to ache a little, and it’s less surreptitious than he thinks it is when he doubles over a little, trying to get it to rub against his thigh for a little stimulation. No wonder his words come wobbly when he snaps, ]
Who’s drooling over anything, you self-important prick?! [ So he says, but his words do come a little wet, followed by a hard swallow. He’d never admit it, but some perverse corner of his mind urges him to duck forward to wrap his lips around that hard length, and he has to clutch at the bedsheets until his nails are digging into his palms to still himself. ] You’re not even the biggest I’ve seen around here, so stop showing off.
[ Because that’s what this is, right? This showboating and rubbing his dick down with lube? That’s just trying to brag before starting the actual prep … right? (Why is he getting a weirdly bad feeling about this.) ]
Are you done yet? C’mon, get on with it already.
[ That demand, accompanied by an impatient paf of the hand against the mattress as he stiffly spreads his legs a notch is meant to signal for Narumi to either start fingering him, or to hand over the lube so he can do it himself. But maybe to a poorly trained eye, it can also look like an invitation to go ahead, already. Whoops. ]
no subject
It doesn’t help, either, that the skewer’s influence has reached an unpleasant and unpleasantly familiar boil — its distressingly reminiscent of the heat that had overwhelmed him back during that springtime game, where he’d really been reduced to some animal hungry to breed. Obnoxious or not, Narumi is still a warm body placed before him, and his nerves feel itchy with the urge to lunge forth and press up against him, to rut and be rutted into. The next stroke of Narumi’s hand yields the obscene, slick noise of lube against hard flesh, and Fuuta shudders visibly, giving a wobbly exhale as he thoughtlessly rubs his thighs together. His own cock is starting to ache a little, and it’s less surreptitious than he thinks it is when he doubles over a little, trying to get it to rub against his thigh for a little stimulation. No wonder his words come wobbly when he snaps, ]
Who’s drooling over anything, you self-important prick?! [ So he says, but his words do come a little wet, followed by a hard swallow. He’d never admit it, but some perverse corner of his mind urges him to duck forward to wrap his lips around that hard length, and he has to clutch at the bedsheets until his nails are digging into his palms to still himself. ] You’re not even the biggest I’ve seen around here, so stop showing off.
[ Because that’s what this is, right? This showboating and rubbing his dick down with lube? That’s just trying to brag before starting the actual prep … right? (Why is he getting a weirdly bad feeling about this.) ]
Are you done yet? C’mon, get on with it already.
[ That demand, accompanied by an impatient paf of the hand against the mattress as he stiffly spreads his legs a notch is meant to signal for Narumi to either start fingering him, or to hand over the lube so he can do it himself. But maybe to a poorly trained eye, it can also look like an invitation to go ahead, already. Whoops. ]