( makoto would be predisposed to squirming uncomfortably, waiting for some sort of repudiation. but kazuya’s words are wrapped in a gauzy laugh, and his arms pull makoto infinitesimally closer rather than try to shove him away. it invites a strange sort of vertigo in him, despite being unmoving—the strange disparity of expecting something and receiving the exact opposite. it’s challenging for him to face directly, and even more difficult for him to talk openly about. he presses his face into kazuya’s neck as if to hide, silent for a long moment as he grapples with how to reply, but he just can’t find anything that feels “correct,” so he just goes with what naturally comes to mind (for better or for worse). )

I didn’t plan on doing more than that. ( he frowns, and he continues in a low grumble, ) You just—tasted so good… It just sort of happened.

( his blood heats under his face, but it’s only in embarrassment. he continues to insistently hide his face.

but his curiosity drives him more than the tattered remains of his human feeling of shame at the moment. ) Was… there any part of it that you enjoyed? And, I mean—not just getting off on it, ( since there’s at least a moderate amount of physical evidence to show that both of them had gotten off on it enough, ) but did you like it, personally?

( there’s a distinction to makoto. sure, he’d gotten off when he lost his virginity to fjord, but it’s not as though he’d ever want to replay the specifics as to how that happened—he’d hated everything about it. it’s just not something that he wants to make any erroneous assumptions about for kazuya. )