Midousuji groans deep and low, involuntarily, in a way that’d make him feel embarrassed if he was cognizant enough, when Ishigaki’s hands curl, yank and tangle in his hair, trying to stop Midousuji’s devouring with adorable futility. When he’s forced off Ishigaki, he laughs from the back of his throat, almost soundless, in a series of wet, encompassing and warm plumes—immediately, Midousuji tilts his head the other way to lick along Ishigaki’s cock. Winding, stroking, and eventually ending in a suck against Ishigaki’s balls, almost paying him no objective heed.
With regards to not making anything easy, Midousuji just grins with teeth as he strokes his tongue along Ishigaki’s dick once more. Nothing easy but cumming prematurely, apparently—but Midousuji says nothing.
Then he feels Ishigaki looking down at him—but Midousuji makes no reaction or move to it. But he pulls away with a wet, gaping maw exhale, his tongue loose and unfurled, cords of thickened spit stuck from Ishigaki’s cock to the long path of Midousuji’s tongue variably.
“That’s the idea,” Midousuji mumbles, and laughs in a low, quiet chuckle, stroking Ishigaki’s cock as he licks his lips. “Get the stupid, quick one out of the way…”
Midousuji then leans back, and gives a quick, hard slap across Ishigaki’s thighs. And when Ishigaki is shocked out of his hiding, Midousuji meets his eyes finally—his lightless gaze all hazy with arousal, mouth long and spread thin corner to corner, his ungloved hand splaying its thin, girlish fingertips against his shiny lower lip as his shoulders shake with laughter.
“Go ahead, dummy,” he indicates—and leans slightly forward, extending his tongue so that the base of it flattens and expands, the tip of the grotesque thing basically curling against the bottom of his chin; his eyes roll to the unfurling of his tongue, and his cock twitches hard. He glances back up to Ishigaki, and makes a lewd jerking off gesture with his gloved hand, laughing again—suggesting that Ishigaki finishes himself off against his tongue, on his face, or into his mouth.
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With regards to not making anything easy, Midousuji just grins with teeth as he strokes his tongue along Ishigaki’s dick once more. Nothing easy but cumming prematurely, apparently—but Midousuji says nothing.
Then he feels Ishigaki looking down at him—but Midousuji makes no reaction or move to it. But he pulls away with a wet, gaping maw exhale, his tongue loose and unfurled, cords of thickened spit stuck from Ishigaki’s cock to the long path of Midousuji’s tongue variably.
“That’s the idea,” Midousuji mumbles, and laughs in a low, quiet chuckle, stroking Ishigaki’s cock as he licks his lips. “Get the stupid, quick one out of the way…”
Midousuji then leans back, and gives a quick, hard slap across Ishigaki’s thighs. And when Ishigaki is shocked out of his hiding, Midousuji meets his eyes finally—his lightless gaze all hazy with arousal, mouth long and spread thin corner to corner, his ungloved hand splaying its thin, girlish fingertips against his shiny lower lip as his shoulders shake with laughter.
“Go ahead, dummy,” he indicates—and leans slightly forward, extending his tongue so that the base of it flattens and expands, the tip of the grotesque thing basically curling against the bottom of his chin; his eyes roll to the unfurling of his tongue, and his cock twitches hard. He glances back up to Ishigaki, and makes a lewd jerking off gesture with his gloved hand, laughing again—suggesting that Ishigaki finishes himself off against his tongue, on his face, or into his mouth.