[there are times denji's like a puppy, eager to jump up and shower affection. sometimes katsuki accepts it with a grimace or shade of annoyance, rarely he's in the mood to respond positively with a hug and grin, and other times he has to push the guy down and try to settle him another way. flirting can work both ways, inciting denji into a better (hornier) mood or urging him to cool for the moment with a compromise. of course, he's one of the two or three that can jump on katsuki in the first place without getting blown up. and the only one with boyfriend privileges.
yeah, he's not explaining what pavlovian means. not right now. later. katsuki's well aware what kind of torments it'd put denji through to shower with him in the confines of personal bathrooms. being naked with each other in that kind of lone, intimate setting would probably always result in fucking. not that he has a problem with that (his boyfriend's sex drive is ridiculous at times). but this isn't their bathroom, and having a handful scattered around their dorm means they can't hog it. if and when each of their rooms get their own bathrooms with showers, fucking hell...
settling back against denji brings all those thoughts to the surface. each nerve is so eager to rush what it's feeling to the forefront of his mind. from the outline of his ripcord along his spine, to the swell of his pectorals and brush of his nipples against his back, to the way his thighs are spread on either side of katsuki's and gently nuzzling him as he rests in his boyfriend's lap. he's deliberately avoiding pushing too hard against denji's dick, slotted up between his tailbone and the cleft of his ass. doesn't want to make him miserable, or incite a full fuck while they still have food to eat. whether that want's going to be effective is another story.
especially if denji's going to start messing with his shoulders. fuck. it only takes a few seconds of those strong hands to push and massage the rounds of muscles for katsuki's head to fall forward, baring his nape and sinking the breadth of his upper body like the strings holding them up just got cut. he takes care of his entire body, demanding perfection from each part, but there's no denying his arms, shoulders, and upper back take the brunt of his quirk's impressive recoil. tension and requirement slither through the sinew of his powerful muscle, the back of his left shoulder displaying the exit of that puncture wound from months ago (in his world). as denji kneads the brawn, so much of that pent-up work begins to melt and untangle. he can only do so much of this on his own; having someone else massage him as denji's doing is one of the fastest ways to make katsuki collapse. he's mostly quiet through the process, but an occasional grunt or cuss grumbles out when his boyfriend works on a particularly deep knot, to say nothing of a low short groan when relief's found. probably striking the half-devil right in the dick. shut up. it feels good.]
Not yet... [he's a little distracted right now. denji's put him to sleep before during a shoulder massage. they can get to food in a little bit. katsuki's arms fall limp to his side when the blonde puts more pressure on his trape, his body curling ever so slightly between the half-devil's legs as thumbs draw circles on his deltoids. fuck, this feels really good. the comment about the lacking ice sculpture earns a low hum of acceptance, but good luck getting more out of him right now. he's going all putty in denji's hands.]
no subject
yeah, he's not explaining what pavlovian means. not right now. later. katsuki's well aware what kind of torments it'd put denji through to shower with him in the confines of personal bathrooms. being naked with each other in that kind of lone, intimate setting would probably always result in fucking. not that he has a problem with that (his boyfriend's sex drive is ridiculous at times). but this isn't their bathroom, and having a handful scattered around their dorm means they can't hog it. if and when each of their rooms get their own bathrooms with showers, fucking hell...
settling back against denji brings all those thoughts to the surface. each nerve is so eager to rush what it's feeling to the forefront of his mind. from the outline of his ripcord along his spine, to the swell of his pectorals and brush of his nipples against his back, to the way his thighs are spread on either side of katsuki's and gently nuzzling him as he rests in his boyfriend's lap. he's deliberately avoiding pushing too hard against denji's dick, slotted up between his tailbone and the cleft of his ass. doesn't want to make him miserable, or incite a full fuck while they still have food to eat. whether that want's going to be effective is another story.
especially if denji's going to start messing with his shoulders. fuck. it only takes a few seconds of those strong hands to push and massage the rounds of muscles for katsuki's head to fall forward, baring his nape and sinking the breadth of his upper body like the strings holding them up just got cut. he takes care of his entire body, demanding perfection from each part, but there's no denying his arms, shoulders, and upper back take the brunt of his quirk's impressive recoil. tension and requirement slither through the sinew of his powerful muscle, the back of his left shoulder displaying the exit of that puncture wound from months ago (in his world). as denji kneads the brawn, so much of that pent-up work begins to melt and untangle. he can only do so much of this on his own; having someone else massage him as denji's doing is one of the fastest ways to make katsuki collapse. he's mostly quiet through the process, but an occasional grunt or cuss grumbles out when his boyfriend works on a particularly deep knot, to say nothing of a low short groan when relief's found. probably striking the half-devil right in the dick. shut up. it feels good.]
Not yet... [he's a little distracted right now. denji's put him to sleep before during a shoulder massage. they can get to food in a little bit. katsuki's arms fall limp to his side when the blonde puts more pressure on his trape, his body curling ever so slightly between the half-devil's legs as thumbs draw circles on his deltoids. fuck, this feels really good. the comment about the lacking ice sculpture earns a low hum of acceptance, but good luck getting more out of him right now. he's going all putty in denji's hands.]