[ Said with the stubbornness and certainty of a true, or close to true, virgin. Certainly, Aomine has spent plenty of time with his hands and various types of literature and internet videos, but there'd never been reason to explore anything beyond that. Why bother? What he did got the job done to his satisfaction and that had, so far, been more than enough.
Yet even as he says that and reaffirms in his own memory just how often and how hard he could get himself to orgasm, Katze's hands and Katze's lips plant the seeds of curious doubt. The fingers in his hair and the warm spot on his neck draw slow shivers out of him and with them an intimate, sensitive awareness of the man next to him. Even through their layers of clothing, he feels warm, and solid, somehow more real than their surroundings. ]
And I know that. Now. [ Aomine says in response to Katze's tidbit of information concerning anal stimulation, which starts as a protest and ends on a slight stutter as he more or less confirms that he liked it.
Well. If it's like that for everybody there's no reason to be embarrassed about it.
It takes him a minute or two to recognize that they've transitioned from "outside" to "inside" that it's private and dimly lit and he can hear some kind of music through the moderately thin walls. The bed gets his attention immediately and he finally detaches himself from Katze, if only to weave his way over to the mattress. His coat and, in a dextrous feat involving heels and toes, his shoes are left behind along the way, so that he can flop down on his back and stare up at the cheap grid lighting.
He doesn't feel sick, now. The nausea of earlier has turned into something else, into a thick, rich pounding, into thoughts about where he felt Katze's mouth and how gentle his fingers had been. He's not aware of it, but he's nursing a just noticeable semi, his sprawled-back position pushing it up against the fabric of his jeans. ]
Yeah, I know. Had a guy harass me at the auction, try to get me to sign up.
no subject
[ Said with the stubbornness and certainty of a true, or close to true, virgin. Certainly, Aomine has spent plenty of time with his hands and various types of literature and internet videos, but there'd never been reason to explore anything beyond that. Why bother? What he did got the job done to his satisfaction and that had, so far, been more than enough.
Yet even as he says that and reaffirms in his own memory just how often and how hard he could get himself to orgasm, Katze's hands and Katze's lips plant the seeds of curious doubt. The fingers in his hair and the warm spot on his neck draw slow shivers out of him and with them an intimate, sensitive awareness of the man next to him. Even through their layers of clothing, he feels warm, and solid, somehow more real than their surroundings. ]
And I know that. Now. [ Aomine says in response to Katze's tidbit of information concerning anal stimulation, which starts as a protest and ends on a slight stutter as he more or less confirms that he liked it.
Well. If it's like that for everybody there's no reason to be embarrassed about it.
It takes him a minute or two to recognize that they've transitioned from "outside" to "inside" that it's private and dimly lit and he can hear some kind of music through the moderately thin walls. The bed gets his attention immediately and he finally detaches himself from Katze, if only to weave his way over to the mattress. His coat and, in a dextrous feat involving heels and toes, his shoes are left behind along the way, so that he can flop down on his back and stare up at the cheap grid lighting.
He doesn't feel sick, now. The nausea of earlier has turned into something else, into a thick, rich pounding, into thoughts about where he felt Katze's mouth and how gentle his fingers had been. He's not aware of it, but he's nursing a just noticeable semi, his sprawled-back position pushing it up against the fabric of his jeans. ]
Yeah, I know. Had a guy harass me at the auction, try to get me to sign up.
I don't want to.