Nanami groans and thrusts even harder at the bite. He moves rapidly, only the need to drive deep into Yu each time slowing him down. He doesn't have the hands available to grip Yu's face and pull it to his, so he pushes into him, even here. Kissing, messier with their movements, but always returning again and again.

It's not made to last long, turned on as he is, tight as Yu is. He snags a nearby dishtowel, concern for their suits, especially Haibara's, driving the urge on instinct, not conscious thought. "Yu," Nanami moans, "I—" I'm close. God, he's twenty-eight, and he's already close.