[ There's something so satisfying in the way that Winter wriggles against the hold of his technique, and Gojo basks in the simple knowledge that beyond a shadow of a doubt, Winter won't be able to move from that spot until he releases him. It's a power move he'd never try with someone the first time he beds them, and he remains mindful of Winter's own interest and enjoyment, but that's just it β he had a distinct feeling that Winter would enjoy this little display of power of his. A mere fraction of what he's capable of, but just enough to feel a little dangerous, a little exciting. ]
An incentive for you to keep you hands and your tentacles all over me.
[ Speaking of β that one that has spilled past his waistband and glides over the too-hot skin of his thigh makes him gasp around a shuddering breath, and his hips give just the slightest roll against Winter's encouraging more of that touch, that promising friction that builds like smoking embers just beneath his skin.
Leaning down against Winter once more, Gojo finds his lips for another searing-sweet kiss, before he begins to work his way down his body, kisses trailing along his neck, his collarbone, his pecs. Neither of them are in any rush, and that suits Gojo just fine, given plenty of time to appreciate just what a fine specimen Winter is. Even so, his hands slip between them to work open Winter's belt, a promise of things to come, once Gojo has sated himself with exploring his bare torso with his mouth.
His gaze flickers up, just to make sure that the other man's eyes remain on him. ]
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An incentive for you to keep you hands and your tentacles all over me.
[ Speaking of β that one that has spilled past his waistband and glides over the too-hot skin of his thigh makes him gasp around a shuddering breath, and his hips give just the slightest roll against Winter's encouraging more of that touch, that promising friction that builds like smoking embers just beneath his skin.
Leaning down against Winter once more, Gojo finds his lips for another searing-sweet kiss, before he begins to work his way down his body, kisses trailing along his neck, his collarbone, his pecs. Neither of them are in any rush, and that suits Gojo just fine, given plenty of time to appreciate just what a fine specimen Winter is. Even so, his hands slip between them to work open Winter's belt, a promise of things to come, once Gojo has sated himself with exploring his bare torso with his mouth.
His gaze flickers up, just to make sure that the other man's eyes remain on him. ]