[ He catches the movement of Gojo's arm in his periphery, hears the click of the door behind him, and thinks once again that Gojo has all sorts of handy tricks up his sleeve. It thrills him to think that he might get to discover even more as they carry on, because he, too, is under no impression that this is going to be typical in any way. Case in point, there are certain things that Winter dare not break out in his first time sleeping with someone, or even the second or third or fourth time, really, but given the company and the mood? He's more than willing to break that personal rule.
After all, at the root of all of this is the desire to touch. To seek out as many points of contact as possible, and he has many, many points of contact to offer.
Winter makes a low, pleased sound into Gojo's mouth as his hands find bare skin, Winter's muscles flexing under the pass of his palms. He explores the other man in turn, fingers tracing the hills and valleys of his abdomen, finding the ridges of his hips — and that raised stretch of scar tissue that travels up, up, to be lost under the fabric of Gojo's shirt. Well now. It seems he's not entirely untouchable after all. He wants to see that mark, explore it more fully, and so, while his hands do not once leave Gojo's skin, something curls into the hem of his shirt at either side to tug it over his head. With the motion, Gojo is more than able to clearly see what it is: a pair of tentacles, pitch black and peppered with stars, slipping out from under Winter's shirt from the back. ]
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After all, at the root of all of this is the desire to touch. To seek out as many points of contact as possible, and he has many, many points of contact to offer.
Winter makes a low, pleased sound into Gojo's mouth as his hands find bare skin, Winter's muscles flexing under the pass of his palms. He explores the other man in turn, fingers tracing the hills and valleys of his abdomen, finding the ridges of his hips — and that raised stretch of scar tissue that travels up, up, to be lost under the fabric of Gojo's shirt. Well now. It seems he's not entirely untouchable after all. He wants to see that mark, explore it more fully, and so, while his hands do not once leave Gojo's skin, something curls into the hem of his shirt at either side to tug it over his head. With the motion, Gojo is more than able to clearly see what it is: a pair of tentacles, pitch black and peppered with stars, slipping out from under Winter's shirt from the back. ]