"I knew it," Midousuji rasps, his smile twisting long across his face, curling smugly at its edges. "Well, good..." He tugs Ishigaki's waistband again, and he begins to undo his belt; the positioning of the fabric makes it clear that Ishigaki's got an erection.
"Already hard? Gross. You've got it a little worse than I thought, I guess."
With wide, manic eyes, Midousuji's gaze falls to watch his hands, one of which he pushes against Ishigaki's dick by its palm; he twists his fingers against it, grabbing it through his underwear—which makes Midousuji's dick jump, eyes still wide as he exhales heavily through his nose. He caresses pushily, firmly, and his eyelids flicker slightly as his eyes lid part way, a heavy plume of breath let go from the cage of his teeth as his jaw drops open, ears subtly burning pink at their tips.
"Brace yourself, Ishigaki-kun."
He's officially one to talk; it's not long before Midousuji's urgently hard himself, dick pressing obtusely his grace predictably dumbing down a couple notches from the loss of blood from his head as he fights Ishigaki's dick out of his underwear. He strokes it hastily, at first, then more slowly, rolling the pad of his thumb across it in time to how he licks his lips—and he pauses, then abruptly drops, shifting somewhat before yanking with brattish urgency on the elastic of Ishigaki's underwear and the parts of his fly.
Then, just as abruptly as everything else, Midousuji grips Ishigaki's hip with one of his long, large hands, pulling him forward as he slowly drags his tongue across Ishigaki's cock. A quiet, low sound that clocks somewhere between a sigh and a purr is pulled out of Midousuji from the taste, and the heady scent.
Not romantic, Midousuji knows. But he isn't romantic, and they've had plenty of incidental romance building up to this moment. Midousuji exhales heavily through his nose again, winding his tongue around Ishigaki's cock from the back of it to its base, his lips pulling against it—his tongue redirects Ishigaki's cock in a wet stroke to Midousuji's lips, and he sucks the head wetly, correcting course somewhat with his hand as he descends Ishigaki's dick.
Predictably, grossly, Midousuji's mouth is already overproducing saliva—he can feel it pooling slightly at his fingers where he holds Ishigaki's cock steady, and he can feel a gathering at his chin, pulling into a lengthening cord as gravity descends. He's drooling like a man starved presented a life-saving meal at the brink of keeling over, but he can't help it. He swallows heavily, adams apple bobbing as he pulls off somewhat, still sucking, fore-fingertip and tip of thumb forming a tight circle at the base of Ishigaki's cock to stroke where his mouth doesn't go—and twists his head as he descends again. This time, his tongue follows with Midousuji's movement, pushed out and flat, drenched against Ishigaki's cock.
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"Already hard? Gross. You've got it a little worse than I thought, I guess."
With wide, manic eyes, Midousuji's gaze falls to watch his hands, one of which he pushes against Ishigaki's dick by its palm; he twists his fingers against it, grabbing it through his underwear—which makes Midousuji's dick jump, eyes still wide as he exhales heavily through his nose. He caresses pushily, firmly, and his eyelids flicker slightly as his eyes lid part way, a heavy plume of breath let go from the cage of his teeth as his jaw drops open, ears subtly burning pink at their tips.
"Brace yourself, Ishigaki-kun."
He's officially one to talk; it's not long before Midousuji's urgently hard himself, dick pressing obtusely his grace predictably dumbing down a couple notches from the loss of blood from his head as he fights Ishigaki's dick out of his underwear. He strokes it hastily, at first, then more slowly, rolling the pad of his thumb across it in time to how he licks his lips—and he pauses, then abruptly drops, shifting somewhat before yanking with brattish urgency on the elastic of Ishigaki's underwear and the parts of his fly.
Then, just as abruptly as everything else, Midousuji grips Ishigaki's hip with one of his long, large hands, pulling him forward as he slowly drags his tongue across Ishigaki's cock. A quiet, low sound that clocks somewhere between a sigh and a purr is pulled out of Midousuji from the taste, and the heady scent.
Not romantic, Midousuji knows. But he isn't romantic, and they've had plenty of incidental romance building up to this moment. Midousuji exhales heavily through his nose again, winding his tongue around Ishigaki's cock from the back of it to its base, his lips pulling against it—his tongue redirects Ishigaki's cock in a wet stroke to Midousuji's lips, and he sucks the head wetly, correcting course somewhat with his hand as he descends Ishigaki's dick.
Predictably, grossly, Midousuji's mouth is already overproducing saliva—he can feel it pooling slightly at his fingers where he holds Ishigaki's cock steady, and he can feel a gathering at his chin, pulling into a lengthening cord as gravity descends. He's drooling like a man starved presented a life-saving meal at the brink of keeling over, but he can't help it. He swallows heavily, adams apple bobbing as he pulls off somewhat, still sucking, fore-fingertip and tip of thumb forming a tight circle at the base of Ishigaki's cock to stroke where his mouth doesn't go—and twists his head as he descends again. This time, his tongue follows with Midousuji's movement, pushed out and flat, drenched against Ishigaki's cock.