[You know what? Fine. Morbid fascination dictates that he reach down and grope around to confirm his suspicions, but he doesn't appreciate that accusation, so he squeezes harder than is strictly necessary.]
You've changed your tune rather quickly. What happened to your eager hands?
[Or were you undressing him to kiss his booboos, Tartaglia? There's no attempt to rationalize this beyond pinning the blame solely on Tartaglia, lining up to slowly, painfully shove his way inside of him. It's pain on both ends, but Diluc wouldn't have it any other way. Tartaglia asked for this.]
no subject
You've changed your tune rather quickly. What happened to your eager hands?
[Or were you undressing him to kiss his booboos, Tartaglia? There's no attempt to rationalize this beyond pinning the blame solely on Tartaglia, lining up to slowly, painfully shove his way inside of him. It's pain on both ends, but Diluc wouldn't have it any other way. Tartaglia asked for this.]