[He’s proud of earning the insult. Wriothesley’s voice coming heavy and aroused is its own kind of flattery, no matter what the words are. Besides, Nanami can tell his partner is enjoying the teasing. He’s not letting him lose his erection completely, which will keep him feeling everything that much more. The hand that gripped his hair roughly minutes before follows it by offering much gentler scratches, and the blond can’t hold back a quiet moan as he leans forward, balance slipping slightly until he regains focus and shifts his weight. The fingers wrapped around Wriothesley’s cock twitch, tempted to continue stroking him.
Of course he wants him. Nanami wants to press the boxer down on his counter and take him completely right there. But he’s not just a beast without any control, he won’t lose himself over arousal no matter how much it frustrates him-
Nanami utters a choked whine when the boot pushes up against his straining erection. It’s already too tight, and the pressure against the aching swell almost has him tumbling right on top of Wriothesley, hands trembling as he catches his breath. ]
N-not in here!
[He does sound angry, but under the anger is a panting, shaking mess of a man keeping his feet by sheer will. He lowers his head against Wriothesley’s chest, his hand stroking the captured length against his palm almost like he’s begging for more himself.]
Just wait… until we’re out of the kitchen.
[His throat is already raw and the words come out rough and plaintive despite his attempt to be stern.]
no subject
Of course he wants him. Nanami wants to press the boxer down on his counter and take him completely right there. But he’s not just a beast without any control, he won’t lose himself over arousal no matter how much it frustrates him-
Nanami utters a choked whine when the boot pushes up against his straining erection. It’s already too tight, and the pressure against the aching swell almost has him tumbling right on top of Wriothesley, hands trembling as he catches his breath. ]
N-not in here!
[He does sound angry, but under the anger is a panting, shaking mess of a man keeping his feet by sheer will. He lowers his head against Wriothesley’s chest, his hand stroking the captured length against his palm almost like he’s begging for more himself.]
Just wait… until we’re out of the kitchen.
[His throat is already raw and the words come out rough and plaintive despite his attempt to be stern.]