[ A tight groan pushes out of him as he sinks down, and he feels good, probably, but also something's not right. The deeper Aki nestles himself into Denji's furthest reaches, the more bereft he feels, the more like he's falling apart to prove something, like a wound coming unstitched as you keep testing the give of the sutures. What happened? Why can't he do this right for Aki? This one thing.
Swallowed around the full thickness of him, his arms encircle his shoulders, balmy against Aki's equally heated skin — the temptation is there. To just sit like that for a moment, with him, soak up the thrum of his chest, the leftover come painting his insides. But this was his idea, and the fear that, maybe, he'll get bored of him if he does nothing but hug him, leech off his body warmth, itches at the back of his mind. Denji has to be good. For better or for worse, the rhythm of his hips is still clumsy, but he manages to bounces his ass atop Aki's lap, unsure if the twisting sensation in his stomach is the return of pleasure or something else entirely. Something worse. ]
Is it — good? Is it bad?
[ The words mist into Aki's neck along with his pants, hardly audible, if it weren't for the fact that he's speaking so close to his ear. He's not looking at him. He's afraid to, like the disinterest he heard in his voice might have seeped into his eyes, and seeing that really will kill him. And, sure, he'd wanted to die a little by Aki's hands moments ago, a consummation of his desire, of his need to be sustained by him, but — not this way. It's too lonely. ]
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Swallowed around the full thickness of him, his arms encircle his shoulders, balmy against Aki's equally heated skin — the temptation is there. To just sit like that for a moment, with him, soak up the thrum of his chest, the leftover come painting his insides. But this was his idea, and the fear that, maybe, he'll get bored of him if he does nothing but hug him, leech off his body warmth, itches at the back of his mind. Denji has to be good. For better or for worse, the rhythm of his hips is still clumsy, but he manages to bounces his ass atop Aki's lap, unsure if the twisting sensation in his stomach is the return of pleasure or something else entirely. Something worse. ]
Is it — good? Is it bad?
[ The words mist into Aki's neck along with his pants, hardly audible, if it weren't for the fact that he's speaking so close to his ear. He's not looking at him. He's afraid to, like the disinterest he heard in his voice might have seeped into his eyes, and seeing that really will kill him. And, sure, he'd wanted to die a little by Aki's hands moments ago, a consummation of his desire, of his need to be sustained by him, but — not this way. It's too lonely. ]