[Anything more than a day, a few hours is too long. Every time they tumble back into bed -- usually like this, Koby spread out and breathless and moaning Mihawk's name as they move together like they were each born to do it -- the idea of keeping distance becomes that much more ridiculous. He misses this, the taste and scent and feel of Mihawk inside him, atop him, the way his whole body lights up every time, gentle or rough or somewhere in between. They rarely go more than a day or two without sleeping together, and it's still too long.
Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]
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Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]