Date pulls off your cock quickly, once you're spent, gulping air and steadying himself, first of all. You're partially held up by his frame bracing your legs from sliding too far, but you're melted more than butter and the precarious balance you've got is not going to last.

He reaches for you, supporting your descent, slowing it somewhat.

"Shingo." His voice is roughened somewhat, and he coughs to clear the stiffness from the back of his throat. He's rock-hard, but that's not his focus right now; he's coasting so high on pride and pleasure from doing this to you that his own arousal is tied into that pride, tied into that pleasure. It's a patient lust, an enduring one. He'll attend to that in a moment. For now, he gently guides you into his arms, propping his back against the wall, propping you against him.

By this point you're both a mess, and he licks his lips roughly, pressing a clumsy kiss to the side of your neck as he helps you settle onto the shower room floor, much more safe and at far less risk of concussing yourself.

The water, nearby, washes over one of his shins, warming the muscle that cramped a bit while he knelt before you. He notes it, thinking a good wash off, with soap to sanitize his hand and your quite lovely entrance, is quite in order.

In a minute.