ngoc's art

A rogue smile cuts across his face and Ishido slowly slides his hands up the dampened skintight shorts, lingering around his inner thighs. He knew Terumi was extra sensitive there, so he made sure to spoil that area with some extra attention, squeezing down hard, massaging in a circular motion. Terumi releases a shuddered sigh, clawing harder into the sides of the bathtub to maintain his balance, long nails clicking against cold porcelain. It took all his willpower and more not to simply throw himself at Ishido and beg him to get on with it already, but he hadn’t drank enough to overlook his pride. But with every stroke edging closer towards his need, his inhibitions gradually slithers away from his grasp, mental restraints at their limit.