[ dropping that line is like a delayed weapon. kaiser will be sure to cringe over it, but he'll be taking the psychic damage far later.
but in the moment, kaiser props himself up on an elbow to better watch, an understanding of noa's game coming into his mind. it's less an epiphany that he can put to words than it is a feeling that he gets, but he understands that he absolutely cannot let himself come completely undone or it's his loss. the good thing is that this kind of challenge is fairly well-suited for kaiser's blend of derangement and horrible self-image; the bad news is that he's an inexperienced teenager. it'll be an internal battle for which of his worst traits wins (loses?) alongside the external battle against noa to hang in there.
his lower lip twists in a way that suggests disgust more than anything else, fingers curling into the bedsheets underneath him as noa's mouth moves against his cock. it feels good, but he's also vaguely put off by something that he can't quite put a finger on — the dampness of cloth on his dick, maybe. or maybe it's the entire scenario, and his love-hate relationship with feeling like he's being held down, but kaiser hasn't self-inspected enough to understand that yet! ]
Is this... [ there's a pause as he closes his eyes briefly, blinking as he gathers himself — his thighs tense and he exhales, voice rasping slightly as he continues: ] Your set routine, perhaps? Get on with it.
[ "this doesn't work well on me," is what he's communicating. that's not bravado, because it doesn't, but the fact that kaiser is bold enough to insist upon it is certainly a special kind of unfounded confidence. ]
no subject
but in the moment, kaiser props himself up on an elbow to better watch, an understanding of noa's game coming into his mind. it's less an epiphany that he can put to words than it is a feeling that he gets, but he understands that he absolutely cannot let himself come completely undone or it's his loss. the good thing is that this kind of challenge is fairly well-suited for kaiser's blend of derangement and horrible self-image; the bad news is that he's an inexperienced teenager. it'll be an internal battle for which of his worst traits wins (loses?) alongside the external battle against noa to hang in there.
his lower lip twists in a way that suggests disgust more than anything else, fingers curling into the bedsheets underneath him as noa's mouth moves against his cock. it feels good, but he's also vaguely put off by something that he can't quite put a finger on — the dampness of cloth on his dick, maybe. or maybe it's the entire scenario, and his love-hate relationship with feeling like he's being held down, but kaiser hasn't self-inspected enough to understand that yet! ]
Is this... [ there's a pause as he closes his eyes briefly, blinking as he gathers himself — his thighs tense and he exhales, voice rasping slightly as he continues: ] Your set routine, perhaps? Get on with it.
[ "this doesn't work well on me," is what he's communicating. that's not bravado, because it doesn't, but the fact that kaiser is bold enough to insist upon it is certainly a special kind of unfounded confidence. ]