[ The span of Jyuto's back fits into Riou's arms so easily— he notices it as he feels the other pressing on him, muscle against the blades of his shoulders. Jyuto hadn't ever considered himself fragile or small, but with Riou's frame pushed flush and there to be compared, he just feels thin and long, like a branch that may snap if Riou squeezes him too hard. Weirdly enough, he's into it. The body holding him is warm, and he turns himself in Riou's embrace to face him properly. ]
It's fine. [ Jyuto senses this is the answer that Riou wants to hear, anyway. He keeps stroking him. It's too much of a hassle for them to to relocate, and Jyuto knows if he sees those cute little dogs come out into the living room, he'll feel weird and really dirty all of a sudden for being so ready to fuck their owner. They'll make do with the couch. Jyuto fuddles with Riou's belt, unbuckling it sloppily with one hand and still rubbing him with the other; he's excited to see what's tucked away in there, because maybe in the darkest corner of his mind he's been curious and pondered before. The leather and metal hits the ground with a thud and Jyuto droops one arm over Riou's shoulder, fingertips brushing the buzzed undercut of sandy red hair. Carefully, he steps back with one foot, reeling Riou along with him to the couch that he's memorized the location of, the motion not too different than that of a slow tango. His green eyes try to read something out of him. What he wants, what might turn him on. He can still feel some saliva on his nape from Riou's hickey.
There's the soft sound of a zipper whirring as Jyuto helps himself to undoing Riou's fly with the hand that isn't hooked around him. His gaze has fallen, the desire to see the outline of Riou's arousal apparent in his eagerness. Pants are tugged lower, hooked beneath Riou's butt for a better view. The back of his own leg touches the couch and he knows he's safe to lower himself into a sit, hand sliding in his descent to hold Riou by the hips. His thumbs press where bones dip and form into muscle. ]
no subject
It's fine. [ Jyuto senses this is the answer that Riou wants to hear, anyway. He keeps stroking him. It's too much of a hassle for them to to relocate, and Jyuto knows if he sees those cute little dogs come out into the living room, he'll feel weird and really dirty all of a sudden for being so ready to fuck their owner. They'll make do with the couch. Jyuto fuddles with Riou's belt, unbuckling it sloppily with one hand and still rubbing him with the other; he's excited to see what's tucked away in there, because maybe in the darkest corner of his mind he's been curious and pondered before. The leather and metal hits the ground with a thud and Jyuto droops one arm over Riou's shoulder, fingertips brushing the buzzed undercut of sandy red hair. Carefully, he steps back with one foot, reeling Riou along with him to the couch that he's memorized the location of, the motion not too different than that of a slow tango. His green eyes try to read something out of him. What he wants, what might turn him on. He can still feel some saliva on his nape from Riou's hickey.
There's the soft sound of a zipper whirring as Jyuto helps himself to undoing Riou's fly with the hand that isn't hooked around him. His gaze has fallen, the desire to see the outline of Riou's arousal apparent in his eagerness. Pants are tugged lower, hooked beneath Riou's butt for a better view. The back of his own leg touches the couch and he knows he's safe to lower himself into a sit, hand sliding in his descent to hold Riou by the hips. His thumbs press where bones dip and form into muscle. ]
Let me see.