None of those-- [Natsume fully intends for this to come out flat and annoyed, but it's breathy and needy instead, because Dirk's teeth are on his neck. That should be alarming or weird. It's not. The tiny pinprick of pain just makes everything else feel much more, more intense, more acute and overwhelming.
It's a little terrifying how much Natsume likes it. He covers it up by moving a hand to clamp over his own mouth, blushing furiously, even as his back arches towards Dirk's evil, talented mouth.]
I am not. [It's very muffled, because of the...hand and all, but suitably indignant, Natsume thinks. Then he ruins it by adding, demandingly:] Don't stop.
Mmmhm...(He's convinced, Natsume. Totally convinced. He sucks a little harder to prove his point. To get another noise out of Natsume. When Natsume moves to cover his mouth, Dirk sits up and grabs his hand.)
No way. I wanna hear you sing. (He pins the hand down just above Natsume's head.) Am I gonna have to restrain both your hands?
(He sits up on Natsume, looking down at him, an amused grin playing on his mouth.)
[When Dirk does that, sucks a bruise onto Natsume's neck and pins his hand above his head, there's definitely a sound. Not an angry one, or even an annoyed one -- actually, to be frank, it's a needy one, the kind that makes the boy blush crimson to hear it.
Dirk sits up, and it takes Natsume a beat to actually focus on him, eyes hazy, breath coming in quick, shaky puffs. The mild threat to restrain his hands should just annoy him, but instead it sends a lightning-sharp pulse of wanting, right down his spine and between his legs. Natsume shakes his head, hair tangling against the grass.
Then, soft and a little petulant:] You just did stop.
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It's a little terrifying how much Natsume likes it. He covers it up by moving a hand to clamp over his own mouth, blushing furiously, even as his back arches towards Dirk's evil, talented mouth.]
I am not. [It's very muffled, because of the...hand and all, but suitably indignant, Natsume thinks. Then he ruins it by adding, demandingly:] Don't stop.
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No way. I wanna hear you sing. (He pins the hand down just above Natsume's head.) Am I gonna have to restrain both your hands?
(He sits up on Natsume, looking down at him, an amused grin playing on his mouth.)
I don't plan to stop anytime soon, trust me.
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Dirk sits up, and it takes Natsume a beat to actually focus on him, eyes hazy, breath coming in quick, shaky puffs. The mild threat to restrain his hands should just annoy him, but instead it sends a lightning-sharp pulse of wanting, right down his spine and between his legs. Natsume shakes his head, hair tangling against the grass.
Then, soft and a little petulant:] You just did stop.