[ Perhaps it was a little too greedy of him, to want to hear Winter tell him how good he looks in voice gone rough with desire, but his gaze says enough as it travels over every inch of Gojo's bare body. There are few things as thrilling as looking in another's eyes and seeing how much they want him written in their gaze alone. ]
Your turn.
[ His voice is low, but there's a sharpness to his words, as his shoulder blades peel away from the bedding while his hands grasp onto Winter's biceps. Rather than rely on his jujutsu this time to reverse their positions, Gojo allows himself the distinct privilege of urging Winter back with just his hands alone. Even if the other is fluid and responsive, there is still something forceful about his movements, a casual show of strength and urgency. He doesn't press Winter fully back against the sheets, but he does urge him back enough that Gojo can more easily snag the waistband of his trousers and tug them over his hips and away. As Winter had done for him, he tugs his underclothes off too, far too impatient now to wait to take those off separately.
He can still feel the heat from Winter's cock, from where it had pressed to his thigh; he can't deny himself the pleasure of seeing all of him any longer.
Both fully divested of their clothing now, he crawls forward once again, between Winter's knees, his palms alighting over the other man's knees and gliding slow and measure up his thighs. ]
no subject
Your turn.
[ His voice is low, but there's a sharpness to his words, as his shoulder blades peel away from the bedding while his hands grasp onto Winter's biceps. Rather than rely on his jujutsu this time to reverse their positions, Gojo allows himself the distinct privilege of urging Winter back with just his hands alone. Even if the other is fluid and responsive, there is still something forceful about his movements, a casual show of strength and urgency. He doesn't press Winter fully back against the sheets, but he does urge him back enough that Gojo can more easily snag the waistband of his trousers and tug them over his hips and away. As Winter had done for him, he tugs his underclothes off too, far too impatient now to wait to take those off separately.
He can still feel the heat from Winter's cock, from where it had pressed to his thigh; he can't deny himself the pleasure of seeing all of him any longer.
Both fully divested of their clothing now, he crawls forward once again, between Winter's knees, his palms alighting over the other man's knees and gliding slow and measure up his thighs. ]
God...you're beautiful.
[ Pale skin and ink-black tattoos and all. ]