( it's a wild thought, and one that only ichiro would even bother worrying about. it didn't even cross samatoki's mind that his window makes this a more or less a public affair to anyone who bothered to peep, but it encourages him to give whoever and ichiro a fun show to watch. so when the bed shifts to accommodate ichiro's weight, he bites down on the spot he's been lavishing attention to, planting kisses to soothe the irritated skin.
a noise escapes him when ichiro starts to peel off his shirt, wanting to feel more of his touch, to feel his hands explore every inch it can reach. he jerks his hips up to grind against the other, seeking friction that's going to make him want his pants off very, very, very soon. but he settles for being a piece of shit first, guides his hands to where the hoodie's zipper starts so he can pull it up... and...
wait. )
—the fuck is this.
( it's only now that he gets a good look at this dumb hoodie ichiro has. why. )
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a noise escapes him when ichiro starts to peel off his shirt, wanting to feel more of his touch, to feel his hands explore every inch it can reach. he jerks his hips up to grind against the other, seeking friction that's going to make him want his pants off very, very, very soon. but he settles for being a piece of shit first, guides his hands to where the hoodie's zipper starts so he can pull it up... and...
wait. )
—the fuck is this.
( it's only now that he gets a good look at this dumb hoodie ichiro has. why. )