( ...Huh. The tears are kind of nice to witness, even if his attitude is annoying as hell. He wants to break him for it, if only to show he can, if only as some sort of payback, for making Dabi hurt himself like he did.
So his hand moves again, but in tortuous little strokes, at first. )
That would be boring. So I'll draw it out, then. Since you don't mind waiting.
( Since he won't beg for it, in other words, he's absolutely going to edge him like crazy. His hand strokes, faster, harder, uneven and unpredictable, and each time he feels him getting close to climax, he squeezes to stop it, fingers wrapping tight, watching his expression. His opposite hand stays flat on Toma's chest, as if it could help keep him in place, as if he's not voluntarily holding back. )
[Absolute pain in the ass-- well. Pain in the dick, more accurately.
The point is: This absolutely sucks, but there is no way Toma is conceding here. He's held out through worse things than bad sex, after all.
So he stays as stubbornly still and quiet as he can - which, granted, is a diminishing quantity, but he's sure still trying. He focuses in, as much as he can, on his breathing - keeping it as steady as possible. It's like a Taisoku training exercise. Kind of.
Treating it as a particularly difficult breathing exercise, though, only helps so much; Toma may be stubborn as hell, may be determinedly pouring concentration into each individual breath, but his body is not interested in ignoring Esikko's agonizingly inconsistent touch. Despite his own will, his hips jerk under Esikko's hand, at the painful throb each time he starts and stops.
A shudder verging on a sob interrupts his carefully-measured breaths. He presses his hands, fingers laced together, over his eyes, his cheeks too warm under his palms. This is fine!! He'll get bored eventually!!!]
( ...This was supposed to be fun, and there is something nice about seeing Toma cry and jerk and gasp from his own actions.
But it only goes so far. Esikko sighs, and the sigh is heavy enough to make his next actions clearly pointed. He slides his palm away from Toma's chest, withdrawing it as his other hand works harder. Faster, and this time without stopping, he urges him to chase that rising feeling without preventing him this time. And whenever he comes, so long as he does, Esikko continues his strokes afterwards, slowing only to be sure that he doesn't overstimulate in the sensitive afterglow, smearing mess without a care.
That care immediately vanishes the moment things are calm, and when he pulls his hand back, he wipes it with a huff across Toma's kimono. He is absolutely not giving him any credit for his stubbornness!! Not a word!! )
[There is no reason to be as smug as Toma is, even past the tears and shuddering and aggressive focus, at that sigh.
Not long to think about that, though, when Esikko's hand starts moving faster - and, as Toma realizes with a faint thrill despite himself, doesn't stop this time. The fact that he's still halfway braced for Esikko to stop short again anyway, despite all signs to the contrary, only means the orgasm itself hits harder; even having worked to keep quiet all this time, he cries out unsteadily when he comes, shuddering as Esikko strokes through it.
There are a few moments of quiet, except for the click of the lock and Toma's unsteady breathing. Then he pulls in a deeper breath and mumbles:] Asshole.
[Whether that was about the edging or the jizz smeared deliberately on his clothes, he will not be elaborating. He scrubs away the tears drying on his cheeks and sits up with some effort, peering out the window - checking how high up they are, and how long he has to put himself back together before they reach the platform and get the hell out.]
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no subject
So his hand moves again, but in tortuous little strokes, at first. )
That would be boring. So I'll draw it out, then. Since you don't mind waiting.
( Since he won't beg for it, in other words, he's absolutely going to edge him like crazy. His hand strokes, faster, harder, uneven and unpredictable, and each time he feels him getting close to climax, he squeezes to stop it, fingers wrapping tight, watching his expression. His opposite hand stays flat on Toma's chest, as if it could help keep him in place, as if he's not voluntarily holding back. )
no subject
The point is: This absolutely sucks, but there is no way Toma is conceding here. He's held out through worse things than bad sex, after all.
So he stays as stubbornly still and quiet as he can - which, granted, is a diminishing quantity, but he's sure still trying. He focuses in, as much as he can, on his breathing - keeping it as steady as possible. It's like a Taisoku training exercise. Kind of.
Treating it as a particularly difficult breathing exercise, though, only helps so much; Toma may be stubborn as hell, may be determinedly pouring concentration into each individual breath, but his body is not interested in ignoring Esikko's agonizingly inconsistent touch. Despite his own will, his hips jerk under Esikko's hand, at the painful throb each time he starts and stops.
A shudder verging on a sob interrupts his carefully-measured breaths. He presses his hands, fingers laced together, over his eyes, his cheeks too warm under his palms. This is fine!! He'll get bored eventually!!!]
no subject
But it only goes so far. Esikko sighs, and the sigh is heavy enough to make his next actions clearly pointed. He slides his palm away from Toma's chest, withdrawing it as his other hand works harder. Faster, and this time without stopping, he urges him to chase that rising feeling without preventing him this time. And whenever he comes, so long as he does, Esikko continues his strokes afterwards, slowing only to be sure that he doesn't overstimulate in the sensitive afterglow, smearing mess without a care.
That care immediately vanishes the moment things are calm, and when he pulls his hand back, he wipes it with a huff across Toma's kimono. He is absolutely not giving him any credit for his stubbornness!! Not a word!! )
no subject
Not long to think about that, though, when Esikko's hand starts moving faster - and, as Toma realizes with a faint thrill despite himself, doesn't stop this time. The fact that he's still halfway braced for Esikko to stop short again anyway, despite all signs to the contrary, only means the orgasm itself hits harder; even having worked to keep quiet all this time, he cries out unsteadily when he comes, shuddering as Esikko strokes through it.
There are a few moments of quiet, except for the click of the lock and Toma's unsteady breathing. Then he pulls in a deeper breath and mumbles:] Asshole.
[Whether that was about the edging or the jizz smeared deliberately on his clothes, he will not be elaborating. He scrubs away the tears drying on his cheeks and sits up with some effort, peering out the window - checking how high up they are, and how long he has to put himself back together before they reach the platform and get the hell out.]