[ There's a sort of comfort to this that Kizuna doesn't think he could name even if he was in the space to: Wriothesley is giving him a filthy display to remember, the lewd sucking sounds and the soaking wet embrace of his mouth as it molds to his cock. And it's that exact lack of pretense and decorum he's brought with him to every other encounter that makes it feel so good, that makes him sound so honest in the spill of soft gasps and moans from his mouth.
He's still attentive to the rhythm of it, letting it settle into the drench of his pulse as it drums throughout his body — throat, belly, inner thighs. It doesn't take long for him to keep his end of the promise, fingers gripping tight into the boxer's hair as he rocks his hips to plunge into his mouth, searching for the space where all the movement aligns. ]
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He's still attentive to the rhythm of it, letting it settle into the drench of his pulse as it drums throughout his body — throat, belly, inner thighs. It doesn't take long for him to keep his end of the promise, fingers gripping tight into the boxer's hair as he rocks his hips to plunge into his mouth, searching for the space where all the movement aligns. ]