[ he isn't sure why he's so popular; he knows he is, and he knows he's an endless source of frustration for them too, given his tendency to get into places he's not supposed to. but this place, eichi seems receptive to, and the tentacle slips in carefully to explore. wataru hums softly, delighted by the shifts in eichi, the way he'd run his fingers on his appendage, the feel of them on either side of it as it presses further in. how warm, how nice... mmm, warmer than warm—just like the whole of his company, but is that because that's how he is, or because wataru is simply naturally cooler?

he doesn't mind either reason, hands sliding back up to his chest—how soft, how nice! sot in a way unlike himself, with more give—and, experimentally, running his thumbs over the tips of them. ]

...What do they say about me? No, no, what do you consider most important? [ that's the more important question, to learn more about the angel so relaxed in his arms, ] Does it match up to what you've seen? I hope I haven't disappointed you! If I have, let me make it up to you, I want to...♪

[ because it rarely gets this far with them still conscious; maybe, this time, with reactions he can gauge, they won't end up at the bottom of the pool, ruining the filtration system. he brushes his lips against eichi's neck, ah, ah... ]