[Only half-hard himself, Charlie pays no attention to his own arousal. He'd intended to get something out of this exchange, but his own climax never came to mind. At first he'd only meant to spend more time with the guy. Wind him up, get a rush out of the way he blusters and argues...
When had he decided he wanted to taste him tonight? Charlie doesn't remember, but the greed persists. Even if it won't be satisfied-
Charlie sneers into their kiss. It's subtle - easy to miss when one is completely enshrouded in their own pleasure. Fuuta's blood would be delightful any day, but the taste of blood at the height of climax is a pleasure Charlie hadn't indulged in until his visit to the Casino. There's a certain sweetness to that moment, and he realizes as it passes him by - polluted by aphrodisiac - that he would have enjoyed the flavor.
Ah well. Next time.
Tongue working over Fuuta's forcefully, as if he could pin the boy's organ in his own mouth, Charlie continues to yank seed from his partner until he gets the sense he's only smearing it around. He brushes his palm against the back of Fuuta's hand, sloppily half-cleaning himself before he removes his hand entirely.
And then he releases Fuuta's jaw to place that hand - steadying - on his shoulder. Looking down at him, he's a mess. Is he going to pass out? Charlie's lips pop apart, quiet but audible in the silent lobby.] Huh.
How you feelin' now? Better? [Unintentionally, idly, his thumb strokes at the fabric beneath it curving over Fuuta's shoulder. Affection.]
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When had he decided he wanted to taste him tonight? Charlie doesn't remember, but the greed persists. Even if it won't be satisfied-
Charlie sneers into their kiss. It's subtle - easy to miss when one is completely enshrouded in their own pleasure. Fuuta's blood would be delightful any day, but the taste of blood at the height of climax is a pleasure Charlie hadn't indulged in until his visit to the Casino. There's a certain sweetness to that moment, and he realizes as it passes him by - polluted by aphrodisiac - that he would have enjoyed the flavor.
Ah well. Next time.
Tongue working over Fuuta's forcefully, as if he could pin the boy's organ in his own mouth, Charlie continues to yank seed from his partner until he gets the sense he's only smearing it around. He brushes his palm against the back of Fuuta's hand, sloppily half-cleaning himself before he removes his hand entirely.
And then he releases Fuuta's jaw to place that hand - steadying - on his shoulder. Looking down at him, he's a mess. Is he going to pass out? Charlie's lips pop apart, quiet but audible in the silent lobby.] Huh.
How you feelin' now? Better? [Unintentionally, idly, his thumb strokes at the fabric beneath it curving over Fuuta's shoulder. Affection.]