[ What Broca might come in handy for later? Well, not breaking down doors, apparently, which has been a disappointing revelation to him, as someone who has prided himself on being able to break down a door on more than one occasion in the past.
Though at least the failure this time has led to some interesting results.
There's a satisfied little huff of a sound from Broca as Matoba is cut off from whatever else he was going to say, that is followed up seconds later by a sharper inhale as Matoba gets a hand on him properly. For damn near all of his adult life, soft gestures of physical affection have been missing from Broca's life. He doesn't make attempts to ingratiate himself with others, and while there's still enough there to like that he's made a decent handful of friends, friends don't usually go around petting each other's ears.
But the way that Matoba keeps up the soothing petting of his ears, all the while, subconscious or not, matching it to the way he strokes his cock is getting to Broca more than he'd care to admit to. There's a jarring contrast to the sensations that pulls his focus in different directions and begins to muddle his thoughts as he fills out in Matoba's hand.
His kissing, no less forceful, feels messier now as he presses his tongue against Matoba's lips, still determined to keep him quiet for now. When he does finally crack his eyes open, the pupils look blown, but notably rounded, soft in comparison. For all that Broca is the one with the furry appendages, his eyes are like the majority of Felines from his world, pupils perfectly circular.
Then again, he is more of a tiger than a house cat anyway.
Matoba only gets that returned stare for a few seconds before Broca's eyes slip shut again, and while one hand stays tangled in the hair at Matoba's neck, he reaches out to grab onto Matoba's hip with the other, fingers pressing in with enough force to leave a forming bruise later. ]
[Very true. One look at the Feline's physique previously and you'd think he'd be very good at breaking down doors. Perhaps they should all start learning to pick locks, instead.]
[Affection is not something that enters Matoba's mind almost ever, consciously. The upbringing of an exorcist is one of learning to repress, to erase selfhood. Youkai can't take advantage of what's in your heart if you yourself don't acknowledge it, if there is nothing to read, nothing to reflect. And yet, it's impossible to erase all of the soft edges out of what makes one human without losing oneself entirely. Not all of who he is has been erased from Matoba Seiji, in weaponizing himself.]
[And for those who knew "Seiji" before "Matoba", there have always been certain feline weaknesses. Maybe it's better if Broca doesn't know that's why he's getting the heavy petting, though.]
[Broca's eye opens, and Matoba grins when he notices. His earlier estimation was right. Smug. The bruising squeeze does little to deter it but earn another bubbling chuckle in his throat. He's content to keep sucking on Broca's tongue in his mouth for a little while as his hand warmly wraps over him to stroke in earnest, but when he feels the tautness of his cock fully primed, he instead leaves it hanging a moment for some self-care. He's not in this for charity.]
Here. [He murmurs, gripping Broca's wrist at his hip and urging it to curl the few inches inward, to slip inside of his bathrobe and take hold of him, and reaching to undo the knot at his waist to make it easier. The robe unfurls and leaves the front of his body exposed, easy to access, and openly aroused in return. The saving grace perhaps, of being a new arrival that had ventured into the closet for clothes.]
[Putting the man to work, Matoba leans in on the balls of his feet to press hips inward, grinding the top half of his cock in a slow motion against Broca's and leaving a sticky trail against him. He wraps his hand over them both this time and gives a slow squeeze, grinding the heads together in his palm. A slow breath escapes him as he does so, pleasure into Broca's mouth as his lips return to his with a slow kiss at first, and then a nibble at his bottom lip. Leading him back along into it slowly, but this time, he intends to stop playing with his food.]
[And restarting that timer, by the way, on purpose. But that's okay. They can take their time with this.]
[ While the initial kiss might have been met with something that bordered on hostility in retaliation for the surprise, that pettiness is something that Broca's been easing up on over the course of the past several minutes. While the initial release of his cock gets a small groan of protest, he puts up no resistance as Matoba grabs his wrist and guides it underneath his robe.
Hell, the minute his tips of his fingers slide under the fabric he immediately catches on to the request to make this less of a solo act, and brushes his fingers cross the length of the newly exposed dick in front of him. Though his hand shifts again as Matoba leans forward to press against him, letting out a soft sigh as the feeling of a hand wrapped around him once more while Matoba grinds against him.
A few seconds pass like this, with Broca leaning down into a kiss that feels ironically less heated than before this touching started, though simultaneously more sensual despite the lack of immediate aggression. His hips move slightly to try and add to the friction and slide between them, but the difference in their height makes it hard to move too much with Matoba already putting strain on his calves to stand on his toes like that.
So just a few seconds is all it takes for Broca to slide a hand under Matoba's ass, and hoisting him up into the air to make up for the gap. It might interrupt what Matoba is trying to do for a moment, but if nothing else Broca makes a valiant attempt not to break the kiss and restart the timer yet again during all this extra manhandling.
Though admittedly the timer and reason they started this has departed his thoughts for a moment. ]
[The kiss works back up and deepens as they relax back into the motion, with Matoba leading Broca's tongue back inside with teasing dips of his own. If the timer really is going only by kissing, then they can break and restart for as long as they need to; they've got more important things to worry about now than breathlessness.]
[Eager reciprocation is nice; it doesn't seem like he needs to give any instruction, Broca's palm easily brushing up his cock and wrapping over it. Matoba has his own hand full with Broca, but the height difference does make things a little... tricky. Hmmm, maybe a little more horizontal of an angle...?]
[--No. Not necessary. Broca actually manages a sound of surprise out of Matoba as he's suddenly hoisted up, though it's mostly muted into his mouth. Probably a good thing for him; the gasp of heat that comes with it and the throb of his cock in Broca's hand says all that needs to be said for how he feels about it. He likes displays of power, more than just about anything; maybe Broca can't knock down this particular door, but he can put that skill to use elsewhere.]
[A short stutter and he's splaying his thighs to let Broca pin him inward against the door, press their cocks to his belly and grind as he pleases. He has the room and the leverage to control their hips now; and Matoba's hand is free to resume its stroking over them both, squeezing with every pull upward and smoothing over the heads of their cocks. The other hand, still tangled up in Broca's hair, grips for leverage at his nape with his nails dug in.]
[A grunt escapes hot into Broca's mouth, a quiet sound of pleasure. Indeed, they had better hope the door doesn't give out now.]
[ Any blow that the unmovable door dealt to his pride is at least soothed slightly by the fact that he managed to startle the guy who so far has been pulling out all the bold and sudden moves here. That he startled him in a way that seems to earn him a positive reaction after is a plus though, because he wasn't actually looking to put an end to this yet.
Pressing Matoba's back against the door means he's having to support less of his weight, and his arm will be protesting less by the end of this. It also makes it so much easier for Broca to crowd into his space further as he adjusts to move in tandem with with Matoba's strokes, determined to work with him instead of against him.
But only for that. A solid door holding Matoba in place also gives Broca a chance to move his hand out of Matoba's hair, and back to his neck, fingers pressing into the skin at the side of it as he holds him steady while he presses back into the kiss with the same hungry, almost angry intensity that started this whole mess in the first place. Swallowing down those quiet sounds of pleasure while his teeth press against Matoba's lips and his tongue forcefully finds its way back into his mouth. ]
[Broca should feel proud of that- if Matoba was even a little miffed by being taken off-guard, he seems plenty willing to ignore it for the time being so long as it moves them along towards where they're trying to go.]
[And where they're trying to get to- Matoba's abdomen flinches and flexes taut as their cocks grind back against it, leaving wet trails over his skin. His thighs pinch at Broca's sides to keep his leverage when he tries to angle his cock this way or that back against him, hand moving them against each other, one dragging against the skin of the other. The head of his cock nudges against Broca's glans and a sticky pulse of pre dribbles down against him. His breaths, messily muted and gasped against Broca's mouth, stutter quiet groans. His hand speeds up over them both, feeling a throb signal pleasure against his palm.]
[Matoba's nails drag angry skidmarks across the backs of the other man's shoulders every time he has to scrabble for purchase against him again, stinging marks that will surely be left behind after this- and maybe a little bit of revenge for the bites that will be left bruising his lips. It's hard to make out any other sounds that might come from the other side of the door between the sounds of their breaths, the knocking their bodies make against the door, and the quiet slickness of his hand working between them. Was anyone even still there to let them out, even if they did fulfill their seven-minute obligation?]
[If they're listening, watching, Matoba hopes they at least enjoy the show. Five minutes... maybe four.]
[ There's always been a mindless thrill in sexual activity like this that has nothing at all to do with the risk of getting caught the moment anyone opens that door. Broca has always been a follower, a stooge carrying out the plans of people with grander visions for the future than what he's ever possessed. There's almost a comfort in letting someone else direct the flow of things, and letting his overly wary brain take a break.
He's physically holding Matoba up right now. He has his fingers resting against the pules of Matoba's neck right now. There's no mistake in his mind that the minute he no longer decides he's enjoying something, he can quickly and very physically call this whole affair off.
But despite the fact that he's able to rock up against Matoba's body, and control some degree of speed and force as they slide against one another, he doesn't have much of a say in how quickly or in what way the pleasure builds. That part is entirely and literally in Matoba's capable hands. The movements, as simple as they are, have just a hint of unpredictability to them that has the hair on the back of Broca's neck raising in excitement as each new angle sets a different set of nerves dancing with every stroke up, and every glide down.
A little bit of friction never bothered Broca much, but as worked up as he was already, it doesn't take long for a thin trail of precum to leak from his own cock, joining the hint of a mess Matoba is making, and allowing the incessant grind against each other to become slicker. The smoother sensation contrasts sharply with the way Matoba seems determined to leave his mark on Broca before this is all over. His grunts pouring out of him heavier and louder with every new scratch, but not a single complaint among his sounds.
It seems unfair that he should be the only one to walk away with a reminder though, or maybe that will be more of an afterthought rather than a conscious one he's having in the moment. There's not a lot of complexity rattling around in Broca's skull right now, driven more by instinct and feeling as he pulls his mouth away from Matoba's lips, before ducking his head down to the side of his neck where his hand isn't already holding him steady, and digging teeth into the skin there. ]
[The delicate balance between pricking and playing; Matoba has nudged them into their current position, but every step he took further, Broca didn't turn it down. Therefore, he feels comfortable to continue pushing his luck and seeing what he can get away with, and the other man doesn't seem reluctant in the least to let him touch how he'd like to touch, to ease them into further contact. If he'd decided to open his legs further and order the man inside of him, he's certain that he would have done so.]
[Men are so easy to lead by the nose when you're giving them what they (think) they want.]
[He discarded that option a few minutes ago, however, on account of the mess that would leave him in when they were freed from the closet. If they were freed, he reminds himself. There's no reason to assume that their freedom was a guarantee, but the rules of this strange place seemed to be easy to please: simply fuck, and you were holding up your end of the bargain. This encounter was a perfect test to the rules he'd gone through when he'd woken up, so he'd taken advantage of it.]
[Broca certainly seems like he isn't far at all from making the time limit. His cock throbs against Matoba's, another strong gush of wet dribbling over Matoba's hand and mixing with his own over them. It sends a thrill through him, the mutuality, the sense of freedom from just following his casual desires for once. For a man who rarely could partake of such pleasures, it was intoxicating- so much so that he almost doesn't mind when Broca's teeth sink into his shoulder to leave behind red marks that will surely turn purple and bruise later. A rattling, annoyed sigh leaks out of him slowly, but despite himself, he allows it. Yes, it is only fair, isn't it?]
[The first of many marks. Pain and pleasure were enjoyable. So was the illusion of ownership.]
Are you leaving that for yourself, or for whoever else will see it? [He gasps out with a raspy chuckle, mouth free in one of the few gaps there've been between their kissing. The pace of his hand has picked up. His body spasms in tiny jerks, hips fucking forward of their own accord as pleasure crests. The hand against Broca's nape grips at his hair and directs his mouth back to Matoba's, just in time to mute the groan that escapes him as the combination of the bite, of hands gripping him tight and of the cock against his pulsing against him sends him over. His load spills over Broca's cock with a warm flood, smears against their stomachs as their hips continue to move against one another, and Matoba's hand continues- not stopping until the other man spills over him, too.]
[ The sigh isn't expected, but it also isn't unwelcome, nor is the question that feels like it's meant to be chiding. Cats don't wag their tails when happy, and tigers don't purr, but Broca does let out a puff of laughter through his nose at the clear noise of disapproval. He might feel worse if Matoba hadn't been making one of his shoulders into a modern art canvas, but since Matoba pulled out claws first, he doesn't feel particularly bad about busting out the fangs.
He gets out a quietly murmured-- ]
Neither.
[ Before they're back to kissing, and Broca is swallowing down Matoba's groan as all of this build up finally pushes him over the edge. Broca can feel it, the increased slickness of the slide that has his own breath hitching, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.
Close... close... and he doesn't moan himself as he finally comes, his own release joining into the mess that Matoba's has already made, coating hands, stomach, and cocks as he lets out a quiet, choked sound in the back of his throat. His lips still pressed against Matoba, but he's stilled enough it's hard to say if this still counts as kissing or not. ]
[Ah, he's laughing. So the kitty-cat has a sense of humor, hm? Matoba will remember that. Broca might get more than he bargained for, giving the man a reason to push his luck with him.....]
[Luckily for Broca, their time is swiftly ticking closer and closer to its limit. "Neither"?? Matoba wants to ask something in response to that, too, but whatever he might have blurted out is muffled swiftly by the man's lips pressing back into his own. Of course, of course- couldn't let the time reset again when they're so close, can they? Matoba lets it go with a soft huff of breath from his nose and eagerly tilts his chin up into the kisses, instead. The man's heat can be felt so intensely, pushed up against him, as he barrels nearer to his end, and it's no surprise when it hits shortly after Matoba's- another fresh, slick splash over his stomach, both their cocks rutting into the combined mess as they grind it out in the last moments of pleasure. Eagerly, Matoba milks his cock through it, and as Broca's weight settles against him in sluggish satisfaction, the cavern of his heat has sweat dripping down Matoba's neck and back and down the door. Ah, his hair is a mess now. He's going to have to escape to the showers....]
[The weight against his mouth might be hardly a kiss, but Matoba is selfish enough to give a slow, weighty slide of his tongue over Broca's lower lip as he takes advantage to deepen the kiss once more before the counter in his head expires, a wet sound as he tilts his jaw to part them. His lips are red and swollen, but cracked in a grin. His eye tilts to catch one of Broca's. His expression is smug, utterly satisfied.]
What an interesting place this is. Don't you agree, Kitty-san?
[ There really is an important lesson in all of this, even if that lesson is just that it's important to exchange names before you fuck around with someone in a closet.
He won't pretend that the whole experience wasn't satisfying, there are some obvious physical indicators here that would give away that lie anyway, but he's already got the vague sense that he might have shacked up with someone that's going to be impressively good at raising his hackles.
Maybe it's the way he just got called "Kitty-san" that gives him that hunch.
The minute that nickname is out of Matoba's mouth, Broca's ears are pressing back against his head. Felines are common enough where he's from, though it's not like people never make these kind of jokes or use these casual nicknames. It's just that guys like Broca usually get spared them. The pleasant mental haze that sex provides is clearing up quickly as Broca considers cold dropping Matoba for that. For a moment his fingers even flex where they're pressed against Matoba as the temptation flits through his mind. ]
Broca.
[ It has never been more important to him to stress his actual name to a person. ]
[A great point to learn when you're in private like this, and not, say, knee-deep in a jungle with a dozen other naked people, huh?]
[Matoba prefers anonymity in some cases, but in this one, he's happy to kiss and tell. The immediate bristle gets a clear reaction of glee and amusement from Matoba, so Broca's prediction certainly isn't without merit. But he knows when and where to press down on a vein. He will be careful. Selective.]
Broca-san, [He corrects mildly, although that smirk hasn't been wiped from his face in the least. Feeling the Feline's fingers flex against him, Matoba takes the opportunity to carefully lower his legs back to the floor. Once stable, he glances down with a slight frown at the mess that's now smeared against his navel. Ah, well... But luckily, he has this handy terrycloth robe that he awoke in, so he slips it off from his shoulders and begins to methodically wipe himself down, at least enough that he'll be able to find his way to the bathrooms without dripping and smearing all over the place.]
This was all a little impromptu, but thank you for indulging my curiosity. My name is Matoba. It seems that this place is not going to allow us to resist easily, and so I'd recommend that you follow along with this "Game" for the time being.
[Matoba spots something of interest to him across the closet, and briefly slips past Broca to pick up a fresh tracksuit set- in all of its gaudy gold glory- from a shelf. Perfect. This will do nicely. He drops the now soiled bathrobe and begins to dress himself.]
[He glances up once more once he's got the pants on, flashing Broca a playful smile.]
...Feel free to call me if you need a partner again.
[ While the amusement gets a sharp look from Broca, he does at least relax slightly at the use of his actual name. It's not that he has a strong feeling about being called by a nickname, but there are some nicknames that cross over into being just demeaning enough to get under his skin.
Kitty-san is certainly one.
Now that Matoba is moving away from him though, Broca has a chance to take in his own appearance, and grimace at the mess made of him. The other man definitely took the brunt of it, but there's enough on him that he'll grab a towel off of the shelf that Matoba tried to used as a battering ram earlier, and scrub at some of the sweat and the more awkward to explain fluids. All while listening to Matoba's friendly advice there, his ears even twisting towards him as he moves to grab that tracksuit.
His face is only half turned to see that smile out of the corner of his eye, and he's quick to turn his face away back to the door after. ]
I'll keep that in mind.
[ Both the advice about playing along, and the offer. He's not opposed to sex with strangers... He's clearly not opposed to that, but it does stick in his craw how it doesn't feel like he's being allowed to opt in.
And when he reaches towards the handle of the door now that Matoba is dressed, and it easily clicks open, that feeling is just reinforced.
Broca inhales sharply through his nose, before finally stepping out of the closet, no interest in cleaning up any of the mess they just made given someone decided to lock them in there in the first place. ]
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Though at least the failure this time has led to some interesting results.
There's a satisfied little huff of a sound from Broca as Matoba is cut off from whatever else he was going to say, that is followed up seconds later by a sharper inhale as Matoba gets a hand on him properly. For damn near all of his adult life, soft gestures of physical affection have been missing from Broca's life. He doesn't make attempts to ingratiate himself with others, and while there's still enough there to like that he's made a decent handful of friends, friends don't usually go around petting each other's ears.
... Maybe some do. Broca's friendships have decidedly never involved this kind of act. What's more, his past relationships (if they can be called that, and he admittedly would not) have always existed for a very narrow scope of time and remained purely sexual in nature. Fooling around in a closet is far from the most risqué thing he's done before, and the aggressive kiss feels normal enough by his standard.
But the way that Matoba keeps up the soothing petting of his ears, all the while, subconscious or not, matching it to the way he strokes his cock is getting to Broca more than he'd care to admit to. There's a jarring contrast to the sensations that pulls his focus in different directions and begins to muddle his thoughts as he fills out in Matoba's hand.
His kissing, no less forceful, feels messier now as he presses his tongue against Matoba's lips, still determined to keep him quiet for now. When he does finally crack his eyes open, the pupils look blown, but notably rounded, soft in comparison. For all that Broca is the one with the furry appendages, his eyes are like the majority of Felines from his world, pupils perfectly circular.
Then again, he is more of a tiger than a house cat anyway.
Matoba only gets that returned stare for a few seconds before Broca's eyes slip shut again, and while one hand stays tangled in the hair at Matoba's neck, he reaches out to grab onto Matoba's hip with the other, fingers pressing in with enough force to leave a forming bruise later. ]
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[Affection is not something that enters Matoba's mind almost ever, consciously. The upbringing of an exorcist is one of learning to repress, to erase selfhood. Youkai can't take advantage of what's in your heart if you yourself don't acknowledge it, if there is nothing to read, nothing to reflect. And yet, it's impossible to erase all of the soft edges out of what makes one human without losing oneself entirely. Not all of who he is has been erased from Matoba Seiji, in weaponizing himself.]
[And for those who knew "Seiji" before "Matoba", there have always been certain feline weaknesses. Maybe it's better if Broca doesn't know that's why he's getting the heavy petting, though.]
[Broca's eye opens, and Matoba grins when he notices. His earlier estimation was right. Smug. The bruising squeeze does little to deter it but earn another bubbling chuckle in his throat. He's content to keep sucking on Broca's tongue in his mouth for a little while as his hand warmly wraps over him to stroke in earnest, but when he feels the tautness of his cock fully primed, he instead leaves it hanging a moment for some self-care. He's not in this for charity.]
Here. [He murmurs, gripping Broca's wrist at his hip and urging it to curl the few inches inward, to slip inside of his bathrobe and take hold of him, and reaching to undo the knot at his waist to make it easier. The robe unfurls and leaves the front of his body exposed, easy to access, and openly aroused in return. The saving grace perhaps, of being a new arrival that had ventured into the closet for clothes.]
[Putting the man to work, Matoba leans in on the balls of his feet to press hips inward, grinding the top half of his cock in a slow motion against Broca's and leaving a sticky trail against him. He wraps his hand over them both this time and gives a slow squeeze, grinding the heads together in his palm. A slow breath escapes him as he does so, pleasure into Broca's mouth as his lips return to his with a slow kiss at first, and then a nibble at his bottom lip. Leading him back along into it slowly, but this time, he intends to stop playing with his food.]
[And restarting that timer, by the way, on purpose. But that's okay. They can take their time with this.]
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Hell, the minute his tips of his fingers slide under the fabric he immediately catches on to the request to make this less of a solo act, and brushes his fingers cross the length of the newly exposed dick in front of him. Though his hand shifts again as Matoba leans forward to press against him, letting out a soft sigh as the feeling of a hand wrapped around him once more while Matoba grinds against him.
A few seconds pass like this, with Broca leaning down into a kiss that feels ironically less heated than before this touching started, though simultaneously more sensual despite the lack of immediate aggression. His hips move slightly to try and add to the friction and slide between them, but the difference in their height makes it hard to move too much with Matoba already putting strain on his calves to stand on his toes like that.
So just a few seconds is all it takes for Broca to slide a hand under Matoba's ass, and hoisting him up into the air to make up for the gap. It might interrupt what Matoba is trying to do for a moment, but if nothing else Broca makes a valiant attempt not to break the kiss and restart the timer yet again during all this extra manhandling.
Though admittedly the timer and reason they started this has departed his thoughts for a moment. ]
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[Eager reciprocation is nice; it doesn't seem like he needs to give any instruction, Broca's palm easily brushing up his cock and wrapping over it. Matoba has his own hand full with Broca, but the height difference does make things a little... tricky. Hmmm, maybe a little more horizontal of an angle...?]
[--No. Not necessary. Broca actually manages a sound of surprise out of Matoba as he's suddenly hoisted up, though it's mostly muted into his mouth. Probably a good thing for him; the gasp of heat that comes with it and the throb of his cock in Broca's hand says all that needs to be said for how he feels about it. He likes displays of power, more than just about anything; maybe Broca can't knock down this particular door, but he can put that skill to use elsewhere.]
[A short stutter and he's splaying his thighs to let Broca pin him inward against the door, press their cocks to his belly and grind as he pleases. He has the room and the leverage to control their hips now; and Matoba's hand is free to resume its stroking over them both, squeezing with every pull upward and smoothing over the heads of their cocks. The other hand, still tangled up in Broca's hair, grips for leverage at his nape with his nails dug in.]
[A grunt escapes hot into Broca's mouth, a quiet sound of pleasure. Indeed, they had better hope the door doesn't give out now.]
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Pressing Matoba's back against the door means he's having to support less of his weight, and his arm will be protesting less by the end of this. It also makes it so much easier for Broca to crowd into his space further as he adjusts to move in tandem with with Matoba's strokes, determined to work with him instead of against him.
But only for that. A solid door holding Matoba in place also gives Broca a chance to move his hand out of Matoba's hair, and back to his neck, fingers pressing into the skin at the side of it as he holds him steady while he presses back into the kiss with the same hungry, almost angry intensity that started this whole mess in the first place. Swallowing down those quiet sounds of pleasure while his teeth press against Matoba's lips and his tongue forcefully finds its way back into his mouth. ]
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[And where they're trying to get to- Matoba's abdomen flinches and flexes taut as their cocks grind back against it, leaving wet trails over his skin. His thighs pinch at Broca's sides to keep his leverage when he tries to angle his cock this way or that back against him, hand moving them against each other, one dragging against the skin of the other. The head of his cock nudges against Broca's glans and a sticky pulse of pre dribbles down against him. His breaths, messily muted and gasped against Broca's mouth, stutter quiet groans. His hand speeds up over them both, feeling a throb signal pleasure against his palm.]
[Matoba's nails drag angry skidmarks across the backs of the other man's shoulders every time he has to scrabble for purchase against him again, stinging marks that will surely be left behind after this- and maybe a little bit of revenge for the bites that will be left bruising his lips. It's hard to make out any other sounds that might come from the other side of the door between the sounds of their breaths, the knocking their bodies make against the door, and the quiet slickness of his hand working between them. Was anyone even still there to let them out, even if they did fulfill their seven-minute obligation?]
[If they're listening, watching, Matoba hopes they at least enjoy the show. Five minutes... maybe four.]
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He's physically holding Matoba up right now. He has his fingers resting against the pules of Matoba's neck right now. There's no mistake in his mind that the minute he no longer decides he's enjoying something, he can quickly and very physically call this whole affair off.
But despite the fact that he's able to rock up against Matoba's body, and control some degree of speed and force as they slide against one another, he doesn't have much of a say in how quickly or in what way the pleasure builds. That part is entirely and literally in Matoba's capable hands. The movements, as simple as they are, have just a hint of unpredictability to them that has the hair on the back of Broca's neck raising in excitement as each new angle sets a different set of nerves dancing with every stroke up, and every glide down.
A little bit of friction never bothered Broca much, but as worked up as he was already, it doesn't take long for a thin trail of precum to leak from his own cock, joining the hint of a mess Matoba is making, and allowing the incessant grind against each other to become slicker. The smoother sensation contrasts sharply with the way Matoba seems determined to leave his mark on Broca before this is all over. His grunts pouring out of him heavier and louder with every new scratch, but not a single complaint among his sounds.
It seems unfair that he should be the only one to walk away with a reminder though, or maybe that will be more of an afterthought rather than a conscious one he's having in the moment. There's not a lot of complexity rattling around in Broca's skull right now, driven more by instinct and feeling as he pulls his mouth away from Matoba's lips, before ducking his head down to the side of his neck where his hand isn't already holding him steady, and digging teeth into the skin there. ]
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[Men are so easy to lead by the nose when you're giving them what they (think) they want.]
[He discarded that option a few minutes ago, however, on account of the mess that would leave him in when they were freed from the closet. If they were freed, he reminds himself. There's no reason to assume that their freedom was a guarantee, but the rules of this strange place seemed to be easy to please: simply fuck, and you were holding up your end of the bargain. This encounter was a perfect test to the rules he'd gone through when he'd woken up, so he'd taken advantage of it.]
[Broca certainly seems like he isn't far at all from making the time limit. His cock throbs against Matoba's, another strong gush of wet dribbling over Matoba's hand and mixing with his own over them. It sends a thrill through him, the mutuality, the sense of freedom from just following his casual desires for once. For a man who rarely could partake of such pleasures, it was intoxicating- so much so that he almost doesn't mind when Broca's teeth sink into his shoulder to leave behind red marks that will surely turn purple and bruise later. A rattling, annoyed sigh leaks out of him slowly, but despite himself, he allows it. Yes, it is only fair, isn't it?]
[The first of many marks. Pain and pleasure were enjoyable. So was the illusion of ownership.]
Are you leaving that for yourself, or for whoever else will see it? [He gasps out with a raspy chuckle, mouth free in one of the few gaps there've been between their kissing. The pace of his hand has picked up. His body spasms in tiny jerks, hips fucking forward of their own accord as pleasure crests. The hand against Broca's nape grips at his hair and directs his mouth back to Matoba's, just in time to mute the groan that escapes him as the combination of the bite, of hands gripping him tight and of the cock against his pulsing against him sends him over. His load spills over Broca's cock with a warm flood, smears against their stomachs as their hips continue to move against one another, and Matoba's hand continues- not stopping until the other man spills over him, too.]
[Two minutes.]
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He gets out a quietly murmured-- ]
Neither.
[ Before they're back to kissing, and Broca is swallowing down Matoba's groan as all of this build up finally pushes him over the edge. Broca can feel it, the increased slickness of the slide that has his own breath hitching, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.
Close... close... and he doesn't moan himself as he finally comes, his own release joining into the mess that Matoba's has already made, coating hands, stomach, and cocks as he lets out a quiet, choked sound in the back of his throat. His lips still pressed against Matoba, but he's stilled enough it's hard to say if this still counts as kissing or not. ]
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[Luckily for Broca, their time is swiftly ticking closer and closer to its limit. "Neither"?? Matoba wants to ask something in response to that, too, but whatever he might have blurted out is muffled swiftly by the man's lips pressing back into his own. Of course, of course- couldn't let the time reset again when they're so close, can they? Matoba lets it go with a soft huff of breath from his nose and eagerly tilts his chin up into the kisses, instead. The man's heat can be felt so intensely, pushed up against him, as he barrels nearer to his end, and it's no surprise when it hits shortly after Matoba's- another fresh, slick splash over his stomach, both their cocks rutting into the combined mess as they grind it out in the last moments of pleasure. Eagerly, Matoba milks his cock through it, and as Broca's weight settles against him in sluggish satisfaction, the cavern of his heat has sweat dripping down Matoba's neck and back and down the door. Ah, his hair is a mess now. He's going to have to escape to the showers....]
[The weight against his mouth might be hardly a kiss, but Matoba is selfish enough to give a slow, weighty slide of his tongue over Broca's lower lip as he takes advantage to deepen the kiss once more before the counter in his head expires, a wet sound as he tilts his jaw to part them. His lips are red and swollen, but cracked in a grin. His eye tilts to catch one of Broca's. His expression is smug, utterly satisfied.]
What an interesting place this is. Don't you agree, Kitty-san?
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He won't pretend that the whole experience wasn't satisfying, there are some obvious physical indicators here that would give away that lie anyway, but he's already got the vague sense that he might have shacked up with someone that's going to be impressively good at raising his hackles.
Maybe it's the way he just got called "Kitty-san" that gives him that hunch.
The minute that nickname is out of Matoba's mouth, Broca's ears are pressing back against his head. Felines are common enough where he's from, though it's not like people never make these kind of jokes or use these casual nicknames. It's just that guys like Broca usually get spared them. The pleasant mental haze that sex provides is clearing up quickly as Broca considers cold dropping Matoba for that. For a moment his fingers even flex where they're pressed against Matoba as the temptation flits through his mind. ]
Broca.
[ It has never been more important to him to stress his actual name to a person. ]
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[Matoba prefers anonymity in some cases, but in this one, he's happy to kiss and tell. The immediate bristle gets a clear reaction of glee and amusement from Matoba, so Broca's prediction certainly isn't without merit. But he knows when and where to press down on a vein. He will be careful. Selective.]
Broca-san, [He corrects mildly, although that smirk hasn't been wiped from his face in the least. Feeling the Feline's fingers flex against him, Matoba takes the opportunity to carefully lower his legs back to the floor. Once stable, he glances down with a slight frown at the mess that's now smeared against his navel. Ah, well... But luckily, he has this handy terrycloth robe that he awoke in, so he slips it off from his shoulders and begins to methodically wipe himself down, at least enough that he'll be able to find his way to the bathrooms without dripping and smearing all over the place.]
This was all a little impromptu, but thank you for indulging my curiosity. My name is Matoba. It seems that this place is not going to allow us to resist easily, and so I'd recommend that you follow along with this "Game" for the time being.
[Matoba spots something of interest to him across the closet, and briefly slips past Broca to pick up a fresh tracksuit set- in all of its gaudy gold glory- from a shelf. Perfect. This will do nicely. He drops the now soiled bathrobe and begins to dress himself.]
[He glances up once more once he's got the pants on, flashing Broca a playful smile.]
...Feel free to call me if you need a partner again.
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Kitty-san is certainly one.
Now that Matoba is moving away from him though, Broca has a chance to take in his own appearance, and grimace at the mess made of him. The other man definitely took the brunt of it, but there's enough on him that he'll grab a towel off of the shelf that Matoba tried to used as a battering ram earlier, and scrub at some of the sweat and the more awkward to explain fluids. All while listening to Matoba's friendly advice there, his ears even twisting towards him as he moves to grab that tracksuit.
His face is only half turned to see that smile out of the corner of his eye, and he's quick to turn his face away back to the door after. ]
I'll keep that in mind.
[ Both the advice about playing along, and the offer. He's not opposed to sex with strangers... He's clearly not opposed to that, but it does stick in his craw how it doesn't feel like he's being allowed to opt in.
And when he reaches towards the handle of the door now that Matoba is dressed, and it easily clicks open, that feeling is just reinforced.
Broca inhales sharply through his nose, before finally stepping out of the closet, no interest in cleaning up any of the mess they just made given someone decided to lock them in there in the first place. ]