[ not one to consider himself an open book, the direction and path his eyes takes as Lan Sizhui moves is nonetheless one easily mappable, head tilting like a fish hooked on wire as he notes the way the fabric bunches in the small of his back. he's decent enough to look guilty and then bashful when he meets his eyes again, laughing so quiet that it seems almost to himself, some private joke. the display in front of them is navigated to one player, and Getou stands to make good on it. ]
[ circling the back, one big palm with a furnace-warmth to it rests on a shoulder as if for balance as he swings his leg over. realistic enough to mimic a bike's suspension, the mock vehicle sinks down with his added weight; the waist in front of him feels small when he hooks both hands on it, rocking him back and melding them together into one warm seam with a sigh — like he was just dying to get up against him. a cool drink on a hot day. ]
Get comfortable. [ his voice has a huskiness to it that reflects the gone-taut reel of elasticity in his guts, that tightening in his belly. there's little mystery between them now: Getou's aphrodisiac-laced blood has gathered south, leaving him notably aroused where he's pressed into the very top of Sizhui's ass. if he's being impolite, he has no apologies at the ready, only moving his hands down the length of Sizui's arms to hold the handlebars with him, well-muscled arms embracing the outside of thinner ones. ]
[ difficult angle to see the cat-got-the-canary smile on his mouth when it hovers so near an ear: ]
no subject
[ circling the back, one big palm with a furnace-warmth to it rests on a shoulder as if for balance as he swings his leg over. realistic enough to mimic a bike's suspension, the mock vehicle sinks down with his added weight; the waist in front of him feels small when he hooks both hands on it, rocking him back and melding them together into one warm seam with a sigh — like he was just dying to get up against him. a cool drink on a hot day. ]
Get comfortable. [ his voice has a huskiness to it that reflects the gone-taut reel of elasticity in his guts, that tightening in his belly. there's little mystery between them now: Getou's aphrodisiac-laced blood has gathered south, leaving him notably aroused where he's pressed into the very top of Sizhui's ass. if he's being impolite, he has no apologies at the ready, only moving his hands down the length of Sizui's arms to hold the handlebars with him, well-muscled arms embracing the outside of thinner ones. ]
[ difficult angle to see the cat-got-the-canary smile on his mouth when it hovers so near an ear: ]
Ready when you are.