M'sorry. Sorry I kept you waiting. It wasn't — wasn't that I didn't want you.
[Just saying it, just voicing the words aloud, leaves him feeling raw and bared open in his desire. But it's so easy to admit to when they're like this, when they're so close and so joined that words just slip out without the usual barriers that make him hold them back. It's so natural, so right, and he almost regrets that they hadn't grasped for this sooner but he can't, not altogether, because if they'd done it sooner than it wouldn't be this, just as it is, and there's no way that he could ever regret the way this moment feels.
But he's tracking Kakyoin's movements, gauging his reactions, and though he's taking his time with setting the pace, once he starts moving he never returns to fully sitting still. Even in the aftermath of the rise and fall of his hips, he settles them back into that previous rocking motion — friction without force. It's somewhat for Kakyoin's benefit, but secretly mostly for his own; being inside Kakyoin like this is addicting, maddening, and he couldn't stop himself now, not on his own. Not without Kakyoin asking him to.
And so the cadence starts to take shape: up, down, a circling grind. Up, down, a circling grind. Kakyoin had said he'd wanted a ride; slowly, slowly, the rhythm of it begins.]
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[Just saying it, just voicing the words aloud, leaves him feeling raw and bared open in his desire. But it's so easy to admit to when they're like this, when they're so close and so joined that words just slip out without the usual barriers that make him hold them back. It's so natural, so right, and he almost regrets that they hadn't grasped for this sooner but he can't, not altogether, because if they'd done it sooner than it wouldn't be this, just as it is, and there's no way that he could ever regret the way this moment feels.
But he's tracking Kakyoin's movements, gauging his reactions, and though he's taking his time with setting the pace, once he starts moving he never returns to fully sitting still. Even in the aftermath of the rise and fall of his hips, he settles them back into that previous rocking motion — friction without force. It's somewhat for Kakyoin's benefit, but secretly mostly for his own; being inside Kakyoin like this is addicting, maddening, and he couldn't stop himself now, not on his own. Not without Kakyoin asking him to.
And so the cadence starts to take shape: up, down, a circling grind. Up, down, a circling grind. Kakyoin had said he'd wanted a ride; slowly, slowly, the rhythm of it begins.]
I'll make it up to you...