[ this, as with most things, is a most new experience, and one coming from Toji of anyone is, well. if Choso hadn’t been flushed before, he is now, face burning hotter than he can ever remember it doing. eyes hooded, gaze downcast, he does not notice the shape his own mouth has taken, how it twitches into a configuration that could be taken as warm, or wondering.
it feels good. damn him, but it feels good; the ministrations of Toji’s mouth have Choso pressed into the wall in no time, hands curling into the man’s hair while every jolt of pleasure drags blunted nails across Toji’s scalp not unlike a giant animal’s kneading. though Choso continues to obey with silence, he cannot stop the soft groans, nor the way his breath hitches when Toji looks up at him, mouth full and eyes sharp.
how is he supposed to keep himself composed like this? Toji’s hand on his hip is a wise choice; Choso finds himself swaying in, body shuddering with the aborted motion. ]
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it feels good. damn him, but it feels good; the ministrations of Toji’s mouth have Choso pressed into the wall in no time, hands curling into the man’s hair while every jolt of pleasure drags blunted nails across Toji’s scalp not unlike a giant animal’s kneading. though Choso continues to obey with silence, he cannot stop the soft groans, nor the way his breath hitches when Toji looks up at him, mouth full and eyes sharp.
how is he supposed to keep himself composed like this? Toji’s hand on his hip is a wise choice; Choso finds himself swaying in, body shuddering with the aborted motion. ]