You think — that this, this is spoiling you? We haven't, hah, even started...to spoil you...
[Because really, there's so much more they can do; even now they're just getting started, just finding their way before things really get going. There's still so much more sensation, so much more touch, and that too is the benefit of having Star with them, because four hands are definitely better than two, even if there's still a set that has to be preoccupied with keeping Kakyoin's rhythm steady.
One hand is all Star needs to lift and lower him; that's what the arm around Kakyoin's waist continues to do, supporting him easily as they move together in circling motions. The other leaves his thigh and darts inward, picking up Jotaro's previous ministrations of rubbing Kakyoin through the drape of his skirt; they're going to fix the dress afterward anyway, so they might as well make a delicious mess of it in the interim.
That's two hands. Then there's still Jotaro's to account for, one that goes skimming along the plane of Kakyoin's chest in search of one of the peaked nubs hidden beneath, and the other whose fingers curl around one of Hierophant's tendrils, guiding it up to his lips so that he can lave his tongue against it.
It's a lot. He wants it to be a lot. He wants it to be overwhelming, in the best possible way, sensation layered upon sensation until spoiling me takes on a whole new definition in practice.]
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[Because really, there's so much more they can do; even now they're just getting started, just finding their way before things really get going. There's still so much more sensation, so much more touch, and that too is the benefit of having Star with them, because four hands are definitely better than two, even if there's still a set that has to be preoccupied with keeping Kakyoin's rhythm steady.
One hand is all Star needs to lift and lower him; that's what the arm around Kakyoin's waist continues to do, supporting him easily as they move together in circling motions. The other leaves his thigh and darts inward, picking up Jotaro's previous ministrations of rubbing Kakyoin through the drape of his skirt; they're going to fix the dress afterward anyway, so they might as well make a delicious mess of it in the interim.
That's two hands. Then there's still Jotaro's to account for, one that goes skimming along the plane of Kakyoin's chest in search of one of the peaked nubs hidden beneath, and the other whose fingers curl around one of Hierophant's tendrils, guiding it up to his lips so that he can lave his tongue against it.
It's a lot. He wants it to be a lot. He wants it to be overwhelming, in the best possible way, sensation layered upon sensation until spoiling me takes on a whole new definition in practice.]