[His wish(?) is Matoba's-- definitely not command, but calculated choice, perhaps.]
[Xue Yang has one thing right: head is head. And while Matoba can't complain about any such acts he's received in the resort thus far, the desperation of a man in the throes of aphrodisiac certainly doesn't make for a bad relish. His hips work lightly into the man's mouth, ample saliva making the process far easier and a grip against his head keeping him from slipping out; Matoba's fingertips flex and scrape, a cat-like kneading against Xue Yang's scalp that's not exactly rough, but not kind. Taste and throb mount against the bed of his tongue. It's clear that Matoba is being worked up to a point of arousal, and if he allowed the man to keep going, it's likely that he could climax in another moment or two.]
[But Matoba does not like things simple.]
[Denial is the even sweeter seasoning. Matoba draws Xue Yang's head off of him with the grip in his hair and a heavily shuddered breath, and then uses the same grip to toss him on his back in the grass. Tracing his breath-dried lips with his tongue, he falls to his knees to follow him downward, letting his robes slip from his shoulders and pool into the ground behind him as he settles himself spread over Xue Yang's lap. His palm cradles immediately over the desperate point of contact under his pants, where the aphrodisiac has been making work of him.]
I'll thank you for being so selfless as to whet my appetite first, [Matoba says, primly spoken despite being flushed and hard in his lap. Unless stopped, he will find his way into Xue Yang's pants, and take his cock in hand.] Shall I relieve you of your symptoms, now?
no subject
[Xue Yang has one thing right: head is head. And while Matoba can't complain about any such acts he's received in the resort thus far, the desperation of a man in the throes of aphrodisiac certainly doesn't make for a bad relish. His hips work lightly into the man's mouth, ample saliva making the process far easier and a grip against his head keeping him from slipping out; Matoba's fingertips flex and scrape, a cat-like kneading against Xue Yang's scalp that's not exactly rough, but not kind. Taste and throb mount against the bed of his tongue. It's clear that Matoba is being worked up to a point of arousal, and if he allowed the man to keep going, it's likely that he could climax in another moment or two.]
[But Matoba does not like things simple.]
[Denial is the even sweeter seasoning. Matoba draws Xue Yang's head off of him with the grip in his hair and a heavily shuddered breath, and then uses the same grip to toss him on his back in the grass. Tracing his breath-dried lips with his tongue, he falls to his knees to follow him downward, letting his robes slip from his shoulders and pool into the ground behind him as he settles himself spread over Xue Yang's lap. His palm cradles immediately over the desperate point of contact under his pants, where the aphrodisiac has been making work of him.]
I'll thank you for being so selfless as to whet my appetite first, [Matoba says, primly spoken despite being flushed and hard in his lap. Unless stopped, he will find his way into Xue Yang's pants, and take his cock in hand.] Shall I relieve you of your symptoms, now?