[...Does Denji know he basically just creampied him? Maybe it's not really enough to fully leak out, but still. Aki's pretty sure he could creampie him. Maybe if they went two rounds? ...He'll think about that much later.]
[But his pressure against the center of his brow is, at once, stressful and relaxing. The constant kneading feels good but Aki is vaguely aware there's something beneath the action, some reason that he's doing this. The same as the sex, as crawling into bed with him. He's compensating. And for what? Denji is as quick to roll over and show his belly as any other bottom-feeder, so what would he compensate for that isn't his lack of a love life?]
[Eyes slipping open, he stares down at him. His expression like he's holding his breath below constant waves smashing into him. Mouth clenched tight and pressure on his forehead. Hell, his forehead looks more wrinkled than Aki's.]
Don't look at me like...
[He trails off, frowning. Then reaches for him, arms sliding down, hands searching for his hips. He tries to drag him on top of himself, laying flat on his back to give Denji the space to lay on his body, sink his weight onto him and feel the blood coarsing through his veins, pumped by his heart. Doesn't he feel that? He's sick of the way Denji looks at him like he'll vanish, like he needs to steal one last look. Wrapping his arms around his back, he attempts to hold him in place, frowning down at him before setting his head back down. The shit he has to put up with.]
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[...Does Denji know he basically just creampied him? Maybe it's not really enough to fully leak out, but still. Aki's pretty sure he could creampie him. Maybe if they went two rounds? ...He'll think about that much later.]
[But his pressure against the center of his brow is, at once, stressful and relaxing. The constant kneading feels good but Aki is vaguely aware there's something beneath the action, some reason that he's doing this. The same as the sex, as crawling into bed with him. He's compensating. And for what? Denji is as quick to roll over and show his belly as any other bottom-feeder, so what would he compensate for that isn't his lack of a love life?]
[Eyes slipping open, he stares down at him. His expression like he's holding his breath below constant waves smashing into him. Mouth clenched tight and pressure on his forehead. Hell, his forehead looks more wrinkled than Aki's.]
Don't look at me like...
[He trails off, frowning. Then reaches for him, arms sliding down, hands searching for his hips. He tries to drag him on top of himself, laying flat on his back to give Denji the space to lay on his body, sink his weight onto him and feel the blood coarsing through his veins, pumped by his heart. Doesn't he feel that? He's sick of the way Denji looks at him like he'll vanish, like he needs to steal one last look. Wrapping his arms around his back, he attempts to hold him in place, frowning down at him before setting his head back down. The shit he has to put up with.]