[here's Minato, praising Akira's blowjob game, when he is still perfecting his technique. . . but hey! on the bright side, Akira has improved. this time, he is able to maintain his focus the moment Minato tumbles over the edge, drawing lips close to the tip but not quite pulling off completely as he takes what comes (hah). it stings the back of his throat, causes his breath to hitch in his lungs, but. . . for the very first time, the end of a blowjob does not leave him a coughing, sputtering mess]
[it isn't until he has coaxed Minato through the aftershocks that Akira finally pulls back, emerging from the skirt with cheeks stained a deep scarlet, tousled locks sticking every which way like he had just rubbed a balloon against the top of his head. he presses knuckles against the corner of his mouth, which is parted to let him catch his breath, and smiles up at his companion through a lidded, dark gaze]
T-- thanks.
[hah. he likes being praised like that. likes being told that he did a good job]
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[it isn't until he has coaxed Minato through the aftershocks that Akira finally pulls back, emerging from the skirt with cheeks stained a deep scarlet, tousled locks sticking every which way like he had just rubbed a balloon against the top of his head. he presses knuckles against the corner of his mouth, which is parted to let him catch his breath, and smiles up at his companion through a lidded, dark gaze]
T-- thanks.
[hah. he likes being praised like that. likes being told that he did a good job]
. . . fuck, that was-- hot.