[It's been a hard road for Nanami to convince himself he doesn't want anything. Money, a bland life, something just to throw himself into and dull his senses until he drowns in it. If he chokes on the dregs, then at least he doesn't have to strive for anything and acknowledge how much it hurts.

But Wriothesley's soft sigh and the arch of his hips burns fire and need through Nanami's veins. He craves those small noises and fond reactions. They feel like they're giving him breath for the first time, and in spite of his better judgment and all of his careful control, Nanami's grip shifts to cup his hand under Wriothesley's ass and raise him up to meet the push of his body as he grinds back against him. He's almost completely forgotten his original intention was to feed and treat the boxer as a guest, his own hunger for contact dominating his thoughts as he places one chaste, light kiss against the side of his partner's lips.]

You're going to spill it.

[Restraint. He needs to be practicing self control right now, not sidelining care for his own drive for sex. He's trying to breathe slowly and gather his thoughts, but he underestimated how seductive the fighter is. And the worst part is that he doesn't seem to realize it.]

If I don't hold back, there's no guarantee you would want to continue. I just want to give you something good.

[Someone deserves to be happy. If it can't be him, then at least he'll make someone else smile. That's enough. It should be enough. Except he can't make himself pull back and stop holding Wriothesley like he knows he should. His whole body wants to lift the boxer up and claim him right on the counter.]