[Not to worry; there's plenty of time for Broca to discover the depths of Matoba's planning. Fortunately for him, this particular situation was only serendipity, but that doesn't mean that it isn't something he can use. Maybe later, though. For now, he's simply acting on a convenient, selfish chance that happened to fall right into his lap.]
[Who knows what Broca might come in handy for, where else this budding acquaintanceship may lead?]
[When it's convenient for Matoba to speak he will speak, and when it's convenient for him to keep quiet, he will keep quiet... But sometimes, even he can let a little honesty slip. Like when he laughs softly to Broca's comments, which always seem to be the driest reactions. He laughs because he is charmed. It's cute when men are honest in situations where they'd be better off not.]
Then perhaps-- [He tries to speak when fingers loosen at his neck, but they tighten him back into the kiss just as quickly. Muffled, he finishes,] ...Th'tim'r...
[Well, he'll figure it out. Matoba is actually enjoying the violence of his kiss too much to pull away from it, so he simply goes on with what Broca has given him implicit permission to do, and carefully undoes his fly to fish him out.]
[Slender fingers wrap over Broca's cock and give a few slow, testing strokes; the kissing has done work, and if he's not fully brought to arousal yet, that's a problem that can be taken care of quickly. His hand takes its time in feeling him out, since he can't see what he's doing, palm sliding down to cup underneath him and close a soft squeeze against his sack. Matoba's other hand is still rubbing idle strokes against Broca's ear, and subconsciously, the timing of his movements seem to sync up with each other when his hand fists around his cock again to pull with firmer motions.]
[If Broca opens his eyes at any point, he'll find that Matoba's single visible eye has been open, staring back at him all the while. There's a half-lidded heat to it, the cat-like pupil narrowed in scrutiny.]
no subject
[Who knows what Broca might come in handy for, where else this budding acquaintanceship may lead?]
[When it's convenient for Matoba to speak he will speak, and when it's convenient for him to keep quiet, he will keep quiet... But sometimes, even he can let a little honesty slip. Like when he laughs softly to Broca's comments, which always seem to be the driest reactions. He laughs because he is charmed. It's cute when men are honest in situations where they'd be better off not.]
Then perhaps-- [He tries to speak when fingers loosen at his neck, but they tighten him back into the kiss just as quickly. Muffled, he finishes,] ...Th'tim'r...
[Well, he'll figure it out. Matoba is actually enjoying the violence of his kiss too much to pull away from it, so he simply goes on with what Broca has given him implicit permission to do, and carefully undoes his fly to fish him out.]
[Slender fingers wrap over Broca's cock and give a few slow, testing strokes; the kissing has done work, and if he's not fully brought to arousal yet, that's a problem that can be taken care of quickly. His hand takes its time in feeling him out, since he can't see what he's doing, palm sliding down to cup underneath him and close a soft squeeze against his sack. Matoba's other hand is still rubbing idle strokes against Broca's ear, and subconsciously, the timing of his movements seem to sync up with each other when his hand fists around his cock again to pull with firmer motions.]
[If Broca opens his eyes at any point, he'll find that Matoba's single visible eye has been open, staring back at him all the while. There's a half-lidded heat to it, the cat-like pupil narrowed in scrutiny.]