( listen, makoto’s starting to regret it almost immediately after he stops kazuya, but he’s already decided that this is how he wants it to be and how he wants to do it, and he is characteristically very stubborn about the decisions he makes. kazuya nods to agree, and something bright and almost desperate sparks within makoto’s silver eyes. he does what he can to allow for their positions to change, instead lying side-by-side and facing one another on the narrow bed, so close that space is barely allowed to them.
where… thought slowly churns through his mind, inhibited and distracted by near-overwhelming feeling of having stopped himself so close to the edge. it would certainly be a statement to mark kazuya somewhere visible, but it also seems something too forward to impress so early upon him. the young demon inches infinitesimally closer to him, neck bent so that his forehead rests just against the notch between his clavicles. his lips press to skin just beneath that spot with feather lightness, mouthing over to the side until he finds a place beneath the line of his clavicle but several inches above his heart. )
Here, ( he manages in a hoarse sound scarcely above a whisper; everything inside of him screams to bite into him now, but he forces himself to wait. it’s almost as painful as holding himself at the precipice of orgasm. he continues, gritting, ) …Let me know when.
( and he waits, though only just enough. the second kazuya gives him indication that he and his magic are ready, makoto lurches forward with a half-gasp of breath, blunt, human teeth driving into skin with violent, reckless abandon. the precision with which he tears away flesh from his body is a type that is practiced; he moans throatily into the wound as blood rushes up from it, around a mouthful that he savors with a fevered sort of ecstacy before swallowing. it’s at the same moment that he reaches out to kazuya’s hand to pull it back to his cock, all at once going from so little sensation to so much that it’s almost overwhelming in conjunction with the meat that slides down his throat. really, kazuya barely needs to pump his hand a few times before makoto hits his own climax shortly after swallowing, content in his internal perception of the shallow wound he’d left to scar on the other demon—he presses as close as he possibly can to kazuya in that moment, every line of muscle in his body drawn tense enough to snap, before the heat in his cock seems to focus into one final pulse, and he cums, hard, into the space between them. a harsh-sounding cry is torn out of him in the same moment before he collapses, half into the bed and half against kazuya.
though, in the eddying haze of his orgasm, feeling the occasional spasm and shudder of muscle beneath skin slick with sweat, blood, and semen, he forces his eyes open to watch that kazuya does as he’d said: that he manages to preserve the wound as a scar. something all of makoto’s own that he would keep forever. )
🔞 cannibalism/vore again...
where… thought slowly churns through his mind, inhibited and distracted by near-overwhelming feeling of having stopped himself so close to the edge. it would certainly be a statement to mark kazuya somewhere visible, but it also seems something too forward to impress so early upon him. the young demon inches infinitesimally closer to him, neck bent so that his forehead rests just against the notch between his clavicles. his lips press to skin just beneath that spot with feather lightness, mouthing over to the side until he finds a place beneath the line of his clavicle but several inches above his heart. )
Here, ( he manages in a hoarse sound scarcely above a whisper; everything inside of him screams to bite into him now, but he forces himself to wait. it’s almost as painful as holding himself at the precipice of orgasm. he continues, gritting, ) …Let me know when.
( and he waits, though only just enough. the second kazuya gives him indication that he and his magic are ready, makoto lurches forward with a half-gasp of breath, blunt, human teeth driving into skin with violent, reckless abandon. the precision with which he tears away flesh from his body is a type that is practiced; he moans throatily into the wound as blood rushes up from it, around a mouthful that he savors with a fevered sort of ecstacy before swallowing. it’s at the same moment that he reaches out to kazuya’s hand to pull it back to his cock, all at once going from so little sensation to so much that it’s almost overwhelming in conjunction with the meat that slides down his throat. really, kazuya barely needs to pump his hand a few times before makoto hits his own climax shortly after swallowing, content in his internal perception of the shallow wound he’d left to scar on the other demon—he presses as close as he possibly can to kazuya in that moment, every line of muscle in his body drawn tense enough to snap, before the heat in his cock seems to focus into one final pulse, and he cums, hard, into the space between them. a harsh-sounding cry is torn out of him in the same moment before he collapses, half into the bed and half against kazuya.
though, in the eddying haze of his orgasm, feeling the occasional spasm and shudder of muscle beneath skin slick with sweat, blood, and semen, he forces his eyes open to watch that kazuya does as he’d said: that he manages to preserve the wound as a scar. something all of makoto’s own that he would keep forever. )