that's where leo's breath stutters, where the rise of his chest is suddenly a sharp staccato, and he'd have his own amused laugh over the location tsukasa chooses if he could. rather than letting just him know, he's letting everyone know, and that bold movement, that train of thought, just makes the action burn more.
he loves it, yeah, that bold side, that hint of rebellion in this handful of a knight, his knight—
—except how can he voice that, when tsukasa just moves on, leaving another mark, brushing leo's more sensitive areas at the same time. the confirmation he'd had in his throat dies, and what spills from his lips is a small muted, broken moan, quiet and low.
at some point his hands had moved too, gripping onto tsukasa's thighs, and again, he bucks, a result of him arching his back just the slightest again, a result of his aiming for friction—for the feel of tsukasa anywhere and everywhere.
his blood is burning. flammable. he's hot, even though his shirt is almost off.
finally, he lets something more than a moan slip. ]
Mhm... Good job— [ he'll run his fingers over the marks later, fond; he'll make his own on tsukasa, a small flag for a king.
he continues, hands running up tsukasa's thighs, small exhales slipping between his words: ] —I mean, you always do, Suo. You're the best, I love you—
[ and he'll always say that, keep saying that until he can't anymore. ]
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that's where leo's breath stutters, where the rise of his chest is suddenly a sharp staccato, and he'd have his own amused laugh over the location tsukasa chooses if he could. rather than letting just him know, he's letting everyone know, and that bold movement, that train of thought, just makes the action burn more.
he loves it, yeah, that bold side, that hint of rebellion in this handful of a knight, his knight—
—except how can he voice that, when tsukasa just moves on, leaving another mark, brushing leo's more sensitive areas at the same time. the confirmation he'd had in his throat dies, and what spills from his lips is a small muted, broken moan, quiet and low.
at some point his hands had moved too, gripping onto tsukasa's thighs, and again, he bucks, a result of him arching his back just the slightest again, a result of his aiming for friction—for the feel of tsukasa anywhere and everywhere.
his blood is burning. flammable. he's hot, even though his shirt is almost off.
finally, he lets something more than a moan slip. ]
Mhm... Good job— [ he'll run his fingers over the marks later, fond; he'll make his own on tsukasa, a small flag for a king.
he continues, hands running up tsukasa's thighs, small exhales slipping between his words: ] —I mean, you always do, Suo. You're the best, I love you—
[ and he'll always say that, keep saying that until he can't anymore. ]