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Posting to ao3 later
Ike Naizuri
Ike pouts, giving a huff of defeat as he grips the hem of his fitted black sweater.
"Y-You wanted this, so no complaining about it, okay?"
You say nothing, continuing to watch Ike's tantalizing strip tease.
He raises his arms past his waist, his bare pale tummy and dimpled hips accentuating just how skinny his body really is underneath all that weighted cloth.
Two perfect perky pink tips peek out from underneath the black wool as he finally pulls his sweater all the way through, freeing himself, exposing his bare lithe frame and all its glory before you.
"See? Completely flat," he emphasizes his chest, or the lack thereof. "Like I said, there's nothing there so I don't know why you would — nevermind…" The novelist trails off, having a feeling you were neither listening nor cared.
He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes darting away from your already erect pecker. He mumbles to himself, red faced, perhaps cursing the ridiculous predicament he found himself in as he reaches for the bottle of lotion on the bedside.
He twists off the cap and squints, avoiding your hungry gaze on his chest as the shimmering trail of gel trickled down. He flinches and squeaks as the ooze pools on his petite porcelain chest. The two delectable strawberries harden in response, betraying his peckish attitude.
Your cock twitches as a pair of delicate fingers curl around your shaft, bringing it closer to him. The cool touch of gelatin against your glans sends a shiver down your spine. You unconsciously buck against his silky smooth skin, Ike gasping from your eager action.
"B-Behave…" The prickly novelist chastises you, sounding more like a whine than an order.
He leads your cock, slowly dragging it along his milky chest, so thin and frail you could practically feel the rivets of his sternum against your head. He lets go, bringing his hands to the sides of his would-be breasts and forming an imitation of a mound as he rocks against your cock, dragging it in circles as you paint his lolitaesque chest in precome.
"Is this what you expected?" He coos in embarrassment, tears of shame budding on his lashes. The scene is simply too erotic to hold back any longer.
Ike squeals as you lunge for his torso, wrapping your digits around what little fat he has between his two tiny pancakes. You kick your hips into gear, thrusting wildly against his slippery smooth milky skin, pinching and groping at his nipples as he twists under your touch.
You pound away as the poor novelist pleads for mercy, reducing him down to nothing more than a silicone doll, made to be ravaged and defiled by your own hands.
"N-No! Stop I'm—" Ike bleats, hips quivering as his eyes roll back, climaxing entirely from having his nipples tortured.
You thrust once more, putting your back into it, ejaculating against his chest and profile, soiling his beautiful fair face and body with vulgar fluids. He flinches and squints as your seed manages to coat glasses and hair.
Ike groans, already annoyed despite moaning like a whore only seconds earlier. He takes a cloth from his back pocket and rubs away at his lenses as if nothing had happened.
"Could you at least not aim for my face next time."
