Date: 2012-10-04 05:41 pm (UTC)
wontreadthemanual: ([Intimate])
His mouth is plush and red and wet from our kiss; his eyes are dark, pupils widened; his heart rate is elevated, his breath catching in his throat as he pushes himself upward, following my retreat.

I'm glad that I can trust part of my brain to clinically catalogue these sorts of details; I can trust that in that way, I'm observing his physical state fairly, equitably. That he's not displaying signs of nonconsent which my lesser nature has yet to heed.

So the immense guilt that I felt closing in on me pauses, waiting for further input before the final determination of whether I truly am an awful lecherous aibou who's taking advantage of his junior partner while he's intoxicated and cannot defend himself.

"Shintaro," I say again, breathing the syllables reverently; it feels like the greatest intimacy, to call him by his first name, looking into his eyes from so close like this; I know my expression has to be extremely intense right now but it's only fair that it convey the emotion I'm feeling right now.

"Shintaro!"

I might be getting lightheaded just from calling him by his given name.
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Tokusatsu musebox

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