( the pleasure he gets from seeing bakugou writhe underneath him seems to war with the odd, lingering sensation of disappointment; that hand moves from his cock to his thigh, smearing his own interest there without permission, and his tongue flattens over his lower lip, like it wipes away some of that smug pleasure, some of that haughty hubris. beneath him, bakugou's body is tensing, shifting, pushing and pulling against the sheets like he might just peel himself away entirely, run and claw up the headboard and slink out from the pressure of the vibrator entirely. but he's surprisingly well trained, laying there despite it all--despite the way that he can feel the vibrator through his grip on it, rattling around the thin, slender bones of his fingers as he clutches at it. he's not one to force it too soon: he waits for bakugou's limits to expand, waits for him to get used to a little more, before he pushes forward, waits, snags it back a half inch to nestle it in again.
even that curse is a little funny; it's muffled between wet fabric, muffled there between his teeth, where bakugou's nagged his mouth into the pillow--his lips split with one raw, real smile, teased between shallow breath, before he recognizes the odd sensation on his face, and tries to wipe it away. bakugou's squirming helps: his own hips tense, like they want the feeling back but don't quite know how to ask for it.
it doesn't matter. the point of the whole thing is this--where his hand pushes, wags and nuzzles the head of the vibrator in further, until it feels like that's all that bakugou is willing to give; the bunny ears flick and nuzzle, teased in towards his sac, humming and roving around with gentle, tender circles. )
You don't have to talk if it's too much for you. ( he says softly, a little smug, despite himself--and rather than give bakugou the opportunity, he slides himself down, skin brushed to the top of bakugou's naked thigh; he uses his free hand to pivot, to hold bakugou's legs apart at the knee, to wedge himself down between them, rather than stretched out against him. there's some relief there, at least, that the twitch of his own erection is left between his thighs, rather than the mercy of bakugou's clenched fingers, as his knees bend to hold his weight there, spread out beneath bakugou's legs as though he's propping him up.
maybe like he's there for some other reason, really, except the vibrator is still stubbornly pushed where he might go, and his free hand is now clamped down on bakugou's pelvis, holding one side of his hip down to the sheets. )
Is it too much for you? ( he's more sure of himself, now that there's a little more space--and part of that, honestly, is his own brand of kindness; if bakugou's muffling himself into pillowcases, then maybe it's best to put this space between them, and not work to overwhelm him. ) Tell me to stop if it is.
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even that curse is a little funny; it's muffled between wet fabric, muffled there between his teeth, where bakugou's nagged his mouth into the pillow--his lips split with one raw, real smile, teased between shallow breath, before he recognizes the odd sensation on his face, and tries to wipe it away. bakugou's squirming helps: his own hips tense, like they want the feeling back but don't quite know how to ask for it.
it doesn't matter. the point of the whole thing is this--where his hand pushes, wags and nuzzles the head of the vibrator in further, until it feels like that's all that bakugou is willing to give; the bunny ears flick and nuzzle, teased in towards his sac, humming and roving around with gentle, tender circles. )
You don't have to talk if it's too much for you. ( he says softly, a little smug, despite himself--and rather than give bakugou the opportunity, he slides himself down, skin brushed to the top of bakugou's naked thigh; he uses his free hand to pivot, to hold bakugou's legs apart at the knee, to wedge himself down between them, rather than stretched out against him. there's some relief there, at least, that the twitch of his own erection is left between his thighs, rather than the mercy of bakugou's clenched fingers, as his knees bend to hold his weight there, spread out beneath bakugou's legs as though he's propping him up.
maybe like he's there for some other reason, really, except the vibrator is still stubbornly pushed where he might go, and his free hand is now clamped down on bakugou's pelvis, holding one side of his hip down to the sheets. )
Is it too much for you? ( he's more sure of himself, now that there's a little more space--and part of that, honestly, is his own brand of kindness; if bakugou's muffling himself into pillowcases, then maybe it's best to put this space between them, and not work to overwhelm him. ) Tell me to stop if it is.