[ shōyō allows this to, as he had asked from the beginning, to finish him, and god had it been a climb. it wasn’t a difficult one, to get back into focus, now when he was so thoroughly teased to the point that, could he really meander his thoughts over to anything else? not with the hair between his fingers, a scalp being massaged and accompanying his dips up and down his slicked cock, pulsating in his mouth with each stroke from the base to the shaft. with eyes on the man and highly, highly visual (lazarus would notice, it’s not just his eyes shoyo was after), what softly dribbles from his mouth his an open gape.
the tremble and strain underneath was significant. shōyō never knew there was such a sound in him when it burst from his throat hoarse, high and fluttering with the highest chime of ecstasy. with one of lazarus’ deeper intakes, lips so tenderly sweet with his friction, he spills himself into the mouth that cups him. his knees give, his legs want to buckle down. when he pours, he feels like he could slip into a pile of gelatinous shōyō, and that he nearly does, had he not planted a hand behind him.
flushed, hot and released, the recovering gasp inward he gives follows the gentle cradling of the face crouched before him, careful to thumb for thick saliva or an accidental spill from lazarus’ lip line. just— ]
[L knows, from all that he's read about this, what to look for to know that the job is almost finished. He's still struck by the inescapable nature of it, the realization that once a certain point's been reached, the nature of the conclusion is inevitable.
He thinks about sex, it turns out, the same way he thinks of a lot of things. Enjoyment is certainly involved; all sorts of mental and emotional feedback are at play. But there's something frightening to him about what he's witnessing; it's fine in Shoyo, warmblooded and fully human, of course, but could he suffer himself to lose control of his muscles to the point where the spasm, his voice to the point where he's panting and moaning and close to begging?
Who, in the end, could be allowed to do that to him? He relishes the power he has in this situation, gripping Shoyo as long as he's hard, when he's at his very hardest. When Shoyo's filling his mouth and trembling, he releases his hold, bringing his hand to his chin out of fear that something will spill. It's a lot, which he understands to be a point of pride, but it also complicates his resolution to neatly swallow.
He does his best, breathless and slightly flushed from the effort, but before he can wipe his mouth, Shoyo's hands are at his face and doing it for him.]
Yeah?
[He straightens, joining Shoyo and wrapping him in an embrace that's half-hug and half-cuddle.]
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the tremble and strain underneath was significant. shōyō never knew there was such a sound in him when it burst from his throat hoarse, high and fluttering with the highest chime of ecstasy. with one of lazarus’ deeper intakes, lips so tenderly sweet with his friction, he spills himself into the mouth that cups him. his knees give, his legs want to buckle down. when he pours, he feels like he could slip into a pile of gelatinous shōyō, and that he nearly does, had he not planted a hand behind him.
flushed, hot and released, the recovering gasp inward he gives follows the gentle cradling of the face crouched before him, careful to thumb for thick saliva or an accidental spill from lazarus’ lip line. just— ]
Oh, oh, crap, that, wow—
no subject
He thinks about sex, it turns out, the same way he thinks of a lot of things. Enjoyment is certainly involved; all sorts of mental and emotional feedback are at play. But there's something frightening to him about what he's witnessing; it's fine in Shoyo, warmblooded and fully human, of course, but could he suffer himself to lose control of his muscles to the point where the spasm, his voice to the point where he's panting and moaning and close to begging?
Who, in the end, could be allowed to do that to him? He relishes the power he has in this situation, gripping Shoyo as long as he's hard, when he's at his very hardest. When Shoyo's filling his mouth and trembling, he releases his hold, bringing his hand to his chin out of fear that something will spill. It's a lot, which he understands to be a point of pride, but it also complicates his resolution to neatly swallow.
He does his best, breathless and slightly flushed from the effort, but before he can wipe his mouth, Shoyo's hands are at his face and doing it for him.]
Yeah?
[He straightens, joining Shoyo and wrapping him in an embrace that's half-hug and half-cuddle.]
Let's not just do this on birthdays.