Keigo loves you so much when you’re in subspace. It’s one of the only times he truly loses himself, shedding his hypervigilance like snake skin.
Almost every other word is watery and drowning. “Fuck, dovey, yeah? Wan’ it?” Mesmerized by the teariness in your eyes, your open lips, your squirming yet pliant body. Keigo’s eyes are focused on yours the entire time. Pure, unbridled attention. Every movement that cascades his body is in perfect response and synchrony to yours, every word attuned to your spirit as he makes you blubber and cry on his fingers, tongue, cock.
It’s not his fault his vocabulary slips when yours does. Attuned to you, he knows that’s what you respond to. And it’s not like he can help himself, either. With such a pretty thing beneath him, thighs ensnaring his body like a willing dove in a cage, of course Keigo needs to service you. If he isn’t allowed to meet you where you are like this, to swoop down and kiss the tears away to make room for more, he thinks he’d die.
