[Is that innuendo? Leon laughs, ducking his head on a bright blush—but also on a wide grin. It's okay. This is okay. No, it's more than okay; he's having fun now, both because the conversation is stupid and because it's kind of fun to have his hand stroking off a guy's dick.
He experiments with it. Nothing too fast yet. He's not desperate to have this over, and that'd be weird and unsexy. But he watches Togami, peeking up at his face, as he tries changing up the pace, the pressure, the way he's moving his hand, the way his thumb skims and presses up the side of the shaft and then strokes over the head in a little circle. He knows what he likes himself—but he's nothing like Togami.
That's kind of cool.]
Are you saying you need me to come measure your dick once a year?
no subject
He experiments with it. Nothing too fast yet. He's not desperate to have this over, and that'd be weird and unsexy. But he watches Togami, peeking up at his face, as he tries changing up the pace, the pressure, the way he's moving his hand, the way his thumb skims and presses up the side of the shaft and then strokes over the head in a little circle. He knows what he likes himself—but he's nothing like Togami.
That's kind of cool.]
Are you saying you need me to come measure your dick once a year?
[And then, after a beat:]
. . . Only once a year? 'm kinda disappointed.