[ It's not like the embarrassment isn't there. Even now, a corner of his mind is busy sputtering out mortified self-admonishments for doing something as gross and saccharine as calling her name while coming. What if she gets the wrong impression from it? What if she thinks he's, like, serious falling for her?! But -- at the same time, it feels as natural as anything to shelve those concerns to address later, once his thoughts are clearer. For now, all he wants to do is luxuriate in the heady waves of pleasure still washing through his nerves, radiating out from the pit of his stomach and saturating his body out to the tips of his fingers.
Head still cloudy with arousal, Fuuta only gives an indistinct grunt at first; with his guard down, he responds to the praise with a shiver and a slow exhale, jaw set and face scrunched up as he squeezes himself to ease out the last of his release. And it's only then, as the dizzying high of orgasm starts to fade, that he directs his hazy stare to properly look at Rin, and sees -- ]
Oh, shit. [ A soft mutter under his breath, still little raspy and thick at the back of his throat. It's just a small splatter, but it stands out stark against the flush of her skin, and Fuuta feels his stomach do a nervous little flip. Still unraveled from climax, he lets slip before he catch the words: ] -- my bad.
[ Probably not the sort of thing he'd say so easily, under normal circumstances. But his thoughts are still scattered at the moment, woven through with the sweet, syrupy thought that Rin finds him appealing, making it hard to summon his usual prickly defenses. And so he only fumbles for a moment before extending a hand, shuffling the sleeve of his hoodie down to cover his hand, to clumsily wipe that splatter of white off her face. Whatever, he thinks, he has to put this thing through the wash anyway with how sweaty he's been. It just feels important that he do the right thing and tend to her, first, since it was his mistake, he thinks. ]
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Head still cloudy with arousal, Fuuta only gives an indistinct grunt at first; with his guard down, he responds to the praise with a shiver and a slow exhale, jaw set and face scrunched up as he squeezes himself to ease out the last of his release. And it's only then, as the dizzying high of orgasm starts to fade, that he directs his hazy stare to properly look at Rin, and sees -- ]
Oh, shit. [ A soft mutter under his breath, still little raspy and thick at the back of his throat. It's just a small splatter, but it stands out stark against the flush of her skin, and Fuuta feels his stomach do a nervous little flip. Still unraveled from climax, he lets slip before he catch the words: ] -- my bad.
[ Probably not the sort of thing he'd say so easily, under normal circumstances. But his thoughts are still scattered at the moment, woven through with the sweet, syrupy thought that Rin finds him appealing, making it hard to summon his usual prickly defenses. And so he only fumbles for a moment before extending a hand, shuffling the sleeve of his hoodie down to cover his hand, to clumsily wipe that splatter of white off her face. Whatever, he thinks, he has to put this thing through the wash anyway with how sweaty he's been. It just feels important that he do the right thing and tend to her, first, since it was his mistake, he thinks. ]