[ It's a demand more than anything else. Kojiro is so close, he can practically taste it lingering with the growls and moans at the back of his throat; this is too quick and too dirty, but this filth looks so fucking good on Kaoru. Kojiro loves him like this -- loves him all ways, but this is his favorite -- messy and panting, pulled tight, needy, crying, perfect.
It doesn't matter if they're seen. It doesn't matter if they're heard. It doesn't matter if they have an entire audience. All they'd have to do is see Kaoru like this, and they'd immediately understand the importance of it; why Kojiro takes every opportunity he can, and pushes Kaoru further every single time. ]
I want you like this every day.
[ With Kaoru splayed out over him, it's easier for Kojiro to hold him steady, to hook a hand over his shoulder and brace him against the hard drive of Kojiro's hips, unyielding and unmerciful. If Kaoru thought that warning would be anything short of encouragement, he's sorely mistaken. This is Kaoru's penance for being a tease, for loving Kojiro the way he does; this is Kojiro's revenge and worship all at once. ]
Every day, every way I can. You feel so fucking good. You look even better. Never want to let you go.
[ Not at all practical or sensible. But sometimes Kaoru likes to hear his sentimental nonsense, and it's nothing short of the truth anyway.
But Kaoru comes first, always. And it's hell to hold himself back; Kojiro has to bite his lip, because the edge of pain is all that keeps him from coming. He wants to, wants his end so badly, but he wants Kaoru's more. His teeth find Kaoru's neck again, dig in hard, drag a long welt from ear to shoulder as he strokes faster at Kaoru's cock, and his next words are low, strained: ]
And I'm not letting you sleep tonight. So come now.
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[ It's a demand more than anything else. Kojiro is so close, he can practically taste it lingering with the growls and moans at the back of his throat; this is too quick and too dirty, but this filth looks so fucking good on Kaoru. Kojiro loves him like this -- loves him all ways, but this is his favorite -- messy and panting, pulled tight, needy, crying, perfect.
It doesn't matter if they're seen. It doesn't matter if they're heard. It doesn't matter if they have an entire audience. All they'd have to do is see Kaoru like this, and they'd immediately understand the importance of it; why Kojiro takes every opportunity he can, and pushes Kaoru further every single time. ]
I want you like this every day.
[ With Kaoru splayed out over him, it's easier for Kojiro to hold him steady, to hook a hand over his shoulder and brace him against the hard drive of Kojiro's hips, unyielding and unmerciful. If Kaoru thought that warning would be anything short of encouragement, he's sorely mistaken. This is Kaoru's penance for being a tease, for loving Kojiro the way he does; this is Kojiro's revenge and worship all at once. ]
Every day, every way I can. You feel so fucking good. You look even better. Never want to let you go.
[ Not at all practical or sensible. But sometimes Kaoru likes to hear his sentimental nonsense, and it's nothing short of the truth anyway.
But Kaoru comes first, always. And it's hell to hold himself back; Kojiro has to bite his lip, because the edge of pain is all that keeps him from coming. He wants to, wants his end so badly, but he wants Kaoru's more. His teeth find Kaoru's neck again, dig in hard, drag a long welt from ear to shoulder as he strokes faster at Kaoru's cock, and his next words are low, strained: ]
And I'm not letting you sleep tonight. So come now.