[ nothing coming from jonouchi should turn him on this much, but he's already come down his throat once tonight. it's past the time he could have said he it wouldn't reach him, past the time that he could have denied, that he could have said he wouldn't be good enough. his fingernails dig in deep with skin-breaking force, hands shaking from the pressure. even his thin wrists have enough strength in them to do this. he may not pick fights on the streets like jonouchi does, but he's found some use for physical strength.
the friction between them is becoming slippery with sweat and precome, undoing all the good that shower did him. his head tips back to rest against the headboard, exposing his throat. he's just catching his breath. ]
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the friction between them is becoming slippery with sweat and precome, undoing all the good that shower did him. his head tips back to rest against the headboard, exposing his throat. he's just catching his breath. ]