J-johnny? Seriously? That ain't a demon name . . .
[Leon's assuming he's lying, so in the end, it doesn't matter anyway. Someday he'll figure it out.
Right now he can barely figure out his own name, he's so distracted by the sensation of this guy—this Johnny—on top of him. It's deeply embarrassing how good it is. It's nothing he's ever fantasized about, probably because he'd have never let himself even if he started. But the immediate situation here isn't something he can just ignore, however hard he tries: there's a guy on top of him and it feels good enough that he's starting to get aroused.
He goes down flat on his back, throat working in a dry swallow.]
's Kuwata. Kuwata Leon . . . don't tell anyone my name, okay?
no subject
[Leon's assuming he's lying, so in the end, it doesn't matter anyway. Someday he'll figure it out.
Right now he can barely figure out his own name, he's so distracted by the sensation of this guy—this Johnny—on top of him. It's deeply embarrassing how good it is. It's nothing he's ever fantasized about, probably because he'd have never let himself even if he started. But the immediate situation here isn't something he can just ignore, however hard he tries: there's a guy on top of him and it feels good enough that he's starting to get aroused.
He goes down flat on his back, throat working in a dry swallow.]
's Kuwata. Kuwata Leon . . . don't tell anyone my name, okay?