felinguistic | puppysword

[The third finger makes him startle, and he moans freely in surprise with no reservation. He pulls on Shiraishi's arm instead of only gripping it, and his hips buck up away from the infiltrating fingers briefly before once more settling down. Three is closer.]

Shiraishi...san...

[This time, he bares his sharp teeth, squeezes his eyes shut. It feels good, and he wants it. But is asking for what he wants okay? Going first? Going alone? Doing something like this on his own--is it really okay?

Unfortunately, people have told Hizamaru a lot to keep him from making mistakes, and that means explaining phrases to him. Sometimes, he follows his brother's leader, but this isn't quite like his brother.] I want... you to... fuck me, Shiraishi-san... [Urgently, he pulls on Shiraishi's arm, pulls on the hair.] Please!

Please.

[ the tug on his hair makes him stop, briefly, with a hiss. it rushes through his body, sparking in ways that remind him of what he's been neglecting in this long process of coaxing what hizamaru wans out into the open. with each stroke of his hands, or thrust of his fingers. a slow process, like a wave wearing away mountains, but now--

well.

he leans forward and presses a kiss to hizamaru's jaw. imprecise and hard, but the grin on his face can probably be felt through it. ]

See? That wasn't so hard, was it?

[ the long and slow process of dragging this out has been fun, but that's enough. he pulls back, withdrawing his hands in the process and reaches for the little package semi-abandoned on the sheets. he tears it open with precise, methodical motions; pulling out the condom and rolling it on with a slight wince. he's definitely been ignoring his own needs for long enough.

the bottle is next; lubricant uncapped and enough squeezed out to make this a little easier, before he gets hizamaru's legs under his arms again and pushes them back. maybe a little further than necessary, because the ease with which hizamaru bends is still intriguing to him. ]

Ready?

[ he doesn't wait for a response though. the pleading and hair pulling was enough of an answer for that. he's already guiding himself in with a slow and steady thrust. ]

[All he can do is hum his embarrassed agreement. It wasn't hard? It hadn't been hard at all to say. And, just like that, he's getting what he wants. There's no waiting, and Shiraishi isn't angry. Pleased heat blooms over his chest and into his neck. He loosens his hold on Shiraishi to allow the man room to get and put on the condom.

Fascinated, but still breathless, he lowers and folds open his legs so he can watch. He'll remember. It's ingrained in him now, how it's used.

And then his legs are going back up. He doesn't mind, and there's not any discomfort on his face when they stretch taut and long up toward his shoulders, the line of them mostly straight. His own hands come up to catch himself just under the backs of the knees, so Shiraishi doesn't have to hold them the whole time.]

Mm. I'm rea--!

[It's only momentarily uncomfortable, just from being entered so quickly. He gasps and arches, digs his nails into his thighs. And then a long, low hum of pleasure eases out of him. He's had enough sex recently that there isn't major resistance; he accepts Shiraishi pretty readily with help from being prepared and slick.]

[ he has to give himself a moment to pause -- there isn't a lot of resistance, no. given that they're all being coerced into being quite sexually active, it isn't surprising, but it does mean that he slides in quicker than anticipated. he exhales, slowly, and doesn't move for a moment.

then he shifts to hook hizamaru's legs and rest them over his shoulders, making use of that almost casual bendiness the other man has to keep his hands free. it lets him lean forward more, shifting his arms to rest either side of hizamaru's head, and raising his hips to press in a little deeper and shift the angle of entrance.

he's nowhere near as vocal as hizamaru has been, but there's a sound, low in the back of his throat, that just sounds pleased. like he's taken care of a need or a want he wasn't even aware of. there's no warning for when he moves; just the pull of his hips back, and then thrusting forwards. harder than before, like he's testing the pace. ]

[His hands follow the line of Shiraishi's arm, curling around the forearms and holding. The nails dig in slightly, but he doesn't scratch and he doesn't yank; instead, he uses them as a kind of brace.

It's fine if Shiraishi is not loud or talkative or noisy. The sound in the other man's throat is familiar, something a bit more primal, something he understands a little better. He arches his back and nips below Shiraishi's chin with his sharp teeth. A rolling, sharp exhale wets the front of the neck when Shiraishi goes in hard.

He grips the arms, but drops his hips back into the lap that rises to meet him. For a moment, he winces and sucks in a breath, though when he tries again, there's a moan instead of discomfort.]

[ well. no sounds of discomfort, and no moves to try and get him to stop. good. it's like a stone rolling down the hill now that it's been given that initial push - even if he's keeping the pace steady, it's impossible not to keep rocking his hips now.

he hisses when hizamaru rocks his hips to meet him, and on the next thrust hitches his hips up a little more, shifting the angle. his arms move to wrap themselves again hizamaru's shoulders and hold him in place, stop him from shifting with the slowly quickening pace of his thursting. his voice is stil low, and quiet, but the sounds he does let out are more continuous now. ]

[Well, not unlike a pretzel, he gets easily bunched up and halted. He doesn't try to use his legs to press back on Shiraishi's shoulders. And the only thing that doesn't cease is the throaty humming and the deep exhales.

He does have his arms and hands, however. The crooks of Shiraishi's elbows get a few choice scratches, and then the hands rise to delve up through Shiraishi's hair. He grips, not extremely hard, and then tugs back gently each time Shiraishi slides fully into him.

From navel to thighs, he burns pleasantly. Thinking too hard about the feeling makes it worse. The length of his legs tightens some, followed by his curled stomach and his arms. The fingers in Shiraishi's hair curl. His back arches slightly, and he lets out a stuttering, airy moan, louder and more strained than the ones before. ]

[ it's my fault pretzel is a thing i can't even be mad. :pensive:

shiraishi shifts his grip a little when he feels hizamaru's legs tighten, and he chases that strained, breathy moan with the roll of his hips and the trace of his mouth against the hollow of his throat, planting a nip or two down his chest. ]

See?

[ he lets his head move with the tug of his hair. ]

Maybe voicing what you want isn't so hard once you get past that boundary.

[ he doesn't leave too much time for mulling that over, before he angles his thrusts again, pace picking up a little more. ]

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