He can feel it filling out with each stroke, firmer, and he watches the slide of his palm over Kotetsu, darker and deeper in color than his own, red and straining in the chilly air, until blessed relief comes and Kotetsu's too-warm hand finds it. He feels his face flush again. The nudity might not have gotten much a reaction, but the intimacy of having Kotetsu's hand feeling him feels heavy in his chest.
"Never," Barnaby says. The words leave his mouth riding his breath, thick pants. He isn't exerted, but he's on-edge, the nerves in his body tensed more than he's ever experienced before. He's touched himself. He isn't a complete prude. That experience was wholly different from this. "Never leave Without you, I wouldn't have-- I would still be-- "
He takes his hand off of Kotetsu, bringing it up to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue. He smells him there, not the same smell of a mature man, aftershave and peat, but something muskier, and alone, it's enough to make him whine around his fingers before getting himself under control again, finding a focus, instead of letting too much touch and sensation overwhelm him.
His brows knit with almost intense irritation a moment later, as he tries to concentrate, even as he slides a hand between them to grasp at Kotetsu's dick again.
"Did we buy any lotion? Anything?" Was this all it's going to be? It could never be a disappointment, but somehow, to Barnaby, giving Kotetsu a frantic stroke-off in a shared bed feels a little too much like the sort of young experimentation he'd never got around to.
no subject
"Never," Barnaby says. The words leave his mouth riding his breath, thick pants. He isn't exerted, but he's on-edge, the nerves in his body tensed more than he's ever experienced before. He's touched himself. He isn't a complete prude. That experience was wholly different from this. "Never leave Without you, I wouldn't have-- I would still be-- "
He takes his hand off of Kotetsu, bringing it up to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue. He smells him there, not the same smell of a mature man, aftershave and peat, but something muskier, and alone, it's enough to make him whine around his fingers before getting himself under control again, finding a focus, instead of letting too much touch and sensation overwhelm him.
His brows knit with almost intense irritation a moment later, as he tries to concentrate, even as he slides a hand between them to grasp at Kotetsu's dick again.
"Did we buy any lotion? Anything?" Was this all it's going to be? It could never be a disappointment, but somehow, to Barnaby, giving Kotetsu a frantic stroke-off in a shared bed feels a little too much like the sort of young experimentation he'd never got around to.