[ at this point, there's so very little that gladio wouldn't trust satoru with, perhaps to his own detriment. it's why he's here, sitting beside a dress he's sure to look ridiculous in. it's why he'd let him, of all things, shave his face clean for the first time in probably five years. it's why he doesn't protest or resist at all as satoru nudges at his shoulders, simply engages his core to lower them together like a bit of a show-off, hands firmly in place at satoru's waist to help him slide forward as they lay down. or, as it turns out, just he lays down, only to be almost immediately blanketed by the floor-length skirt that had been bundled up in his lap moments before.
it puts at least a temporary damper on his arousal, one that all but undoes the spike the simple act of shimmy up his body had caused. leave it to satoru, of course, to have a plan in mind, though, and to know how to precisely press gladio's buttons by now—in all ways. so the agitated grunt of impatience as the skirt is unfurled over his head is quieted, nearly at once, when he realizes just what he's being presented with. sure, the fabric lets in little light, but the press of satoru's thighs around his bare cheeks, and the heat emanating off his nearly-bare erection poised maybe an inch from his lips is impossible to ignore.
he licks his lips, chuckling muffled by the flare of fabric blanketing him. his hands spread, palming narrow hips to hold them in place as he arches his neck without another word, to lave his tongue over the stockings and warm skin beneath them. ]
no subject
it puts at least a temporary damper on his arousal, one that all but undoes the spike the simple act of shimmy up his body had caused. leave it to satoru, of course, to have a plan in mind, though, and to know how to precisely press gladio's buttons by now—in all ways. so the agitated grunt of impatience as the skirt is unfurled over his head is quieted, nearly at once, when he realizes just what he's being presented with. sure, the fabric lets in little light, but the press of satoru's thighs around his bare cheeks, and the heat emanating off his nearly-bare erection poised maybe an inch from his lips is impossible to ignore.
he licks his lips, chuckling muffled by the flare of fabric blanketing him. his hands spread, palming narrow hips to hold them in place as he arches his neck without another word, to lave his tongue over the stockings and warm skin beneath them. ]