I'm Scott Summers and yeah I always need to wear these sunglasses, thanks for asking.
My Future Plans
Going back home.
My Talents
A lot of things.
Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food
Stuff that doesn't suck.
My Ideal Partner
...
Height
5'8"
Body Type
Lean, athletic build
Smokes
No
Drinks
No (mostly because underage)
Drugs
No
Sign
Libra
Education
Xavier's Institute
Occupation
Student
Income
None
Children
No
Pets
No
Hobbies
Normal things
[He can't help but watch as Scott lets go. The way he moves, the way his dark, desperate erection finally gets to release, the way that energy can crest and flow over and out of him. He's locked onto the way Scott's lips move as he moans, breathes-- the messy arc of semen spattered across his own stomach.
And probably the first clue that Shinjiro isn't getting off that easy is the way he's tempted to taste it, despite his warm satiation and fatigue.
But instead he tamps that urge down and pulls back enough for them to separate and catch their breaths-- both likely looking ridiculous, curled and awkward on the gym floor, their clothes a complete mess on either side of them. (He's pretty sure one of his pant legs is inside out over there, but he'll deal with that when he gets there.)]
You.... ah.... [There's a concerned frown as he looks over Scott again. The complete mess between his legs, the way he's slacked against the mat. Which honestly looks pretty comfortable, and he'd be tempted to join him there wasn't that awkward post-control-loss self-consciousness creeping up to dig into the back of his skull. But he manages to keep from making an excuse and ditching. Instead he'll finish what he'd been trying to ask, once he pulls his mind a bit back together.]
You need any help...?
[With what, he has no idea. Cleaning up? Standing? Going somewhere more normal after all this? Listen, he doesn't exactly know the etiquette for this sort of situation. He brings up a hand to rub over his neck, as though it would get rid of some of the sweat sticking to him. Too bad he can't see the fact that his suit mark hasn't faded at all.]
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And probably the first clue that Shinjiro isn't getting off that easy is the way he's tempted to taste it, despite his warm satiation and fatigue.
But instead he tamps that urge down and pulls back enough for them to separate and catch their breaths-- both likely looking ridiculous, curled and awkward on the gym floor, their clothes a complete mess on either side of them. (He's pretty sure one of his pant legs is inside out over there, but he'll deal with that when he gets there.)]
You.... ah.... [There's a concerned frown as he looks over Scott again. The complete mess between his legs, the way he's slacked against the mat. Which honestly looks pretty comfortable, and he'd be tempted to join him there wasn't that awkward post-control-loss self-consciousness creeping up to dig into the back of his skull. But he manages to keep from making an excuse and ditching. Instead he'll finish what he'd been trying to ask, once he pulls his mind a bit back together.]
You need any help...?
[With what, he has no idea. Cleaning up? Standing? Going somewhere more normal after all this? Listen, he doesn't exactly know the etiquette for this sort of situation. He brings up a hand to rub over his neck, as though it would get rid of some of the sweat sticking to him. Too bad he can't see the fact that his suit mark hasn't faded at all.]