[ Oh, this is absolutely a power move. But Gojo likes those, doesn't he? He's a showoff, someone who likes to be the center of attention, who wants all eyes in the room on him. And he commands that attention well, with the way he leverages his abilities as easy as breathing. Winter is quite keenly aware that he has yet to understand the full depth of Gojo's powers. He could flatten him just as easily as he's holding him in place, for all he knows, but the fact that he doesn't, that his control is so fine and so effortless, is so very intriguing. ]
Oh, darling, you know I need very little of that.
[ Incentive. Though it's thrilling all the same, makes the tattoo of his pulse in his ears pound all the harder. Gojo is encouraging him plenty with the language of his body, the gasps and breaths pulled out of him, the way he rocks their hips together in encouragement. The friction that movement gives is so brief but so promising, a bolt of lightning arcing up his spine. Muscles flex uselessly as he tries to arch against the man above him, but he remains held fast to the mattress. This is really a bit of bondage without the actual bonds, isn't it? Hells.
His arms are still free at least, and he slides his palms around Gojo's torso, mapping the arc of his ribcage and the planes of his back, where he digs his nails into skin, the sting coupled with the coiling of that tentacle around Gojo's thigh to squeeze and writhe and tease.
So, yes, when Gojo flicks his gaze up, he finds Winter watching keenly, as captivated by his exploration of his torso as he is searching for a reaction to his own ministrations. Gojo commands attention, after all. For one reason or another. ]
no subject
Oh, darling, you know I need very little of that.
[ Incentive. Though it's thrilling all the same, makes the tattoo of his pulse in his ears pound all the harder. Gojo is encouraging him plenty with the language of his body, the gasps and breaths pulled out of him, the way he rocks their hips together in encouragement. The friction that movement gives is so brief but so promising, a bolt of lightning arcing up his spine. Muscles flex uselessly as he tries to arch against the man above him, but he remains held fast to the mattress. This is really a bit of bondage without the actual bonds, isn't it? Hells.
His arms are still free at least, and he slides his palms around Gojo's torso, mapping the arc of his ribcage and the planes of his back, where he digs his nails into skin, the sting coupled with the coiling of that tentacle around Gojo's thigh to squeeze and writhe and tease.
So, yes, when Gojo flicks his gaze up, he finds Winter watching keenly, as captivated by his exploration of his torso as he is searching for a reaction to his own ministrations. Gojo commands attention, after all. For one reason or another. ]