[The SQUIP typically does this for L, allowing and encouraging a dominant role in the bedroom. The SQUIP dominates much of the rest of his life, after all; it seems a fair trade, to more typically give him the chance to top and feel powerful in a small, symbolic way. While L doesn't inherently dislike either classic role in a coupling, it's true that one excites him more, something the SQUIP had noticed extremely quickly, taken full advantage of in determining what kind of approach was best for L's particular personality.
Most men are visual when it comes to sex, and there's certainly no shortage of attractive features making up the SQUIP's earthly form... but L is still having difficulty looking directly at it. Some gentle probing on the SQUIP's part is likely plenty to suss out the reason, both complicated and strangely simple. L remains overwhelmed, and is attempting to thin out sensory input to better process what requires the most attention. He actually does it habitually, but it's admittedly easier to be subtle when outfits aren't being unraveled in close contact, courting the prospect of an experience that is itself a ruthless barrage of stimuli. It's easiest when he's not thinking of the astonishing authenticity of the SQUIP's confession.
L's borderline obsessed with truth. Why is it so difficult to view it head-on when it's actually revealed, even more difficult to accept for what it is? Perhaps that's at least why he's anxious to close the distance between them, allowing his towel to drop away as he climbs onto the bed himself, mounting his partner and taking advantage of foreplay's conventions to hide his face under the shaggy fringe of his bangs, bowing his head, pressing his lips around the SQUIP's left nipple and smoothing the blade of his tongue against the sensitive bud. As the heat between them swells and rises, he reaches under the pillows, grasping for a small lotion bottle that often migrates underneath them.]
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Most men are visual when it comes to sex, and there's certainly no shortage of attractive features making up the SQUIP's earthly form... but L is still having difficulty looking directly at it. Some gentle probing on the SQUIP's part is likely plenty to suss out the reason, both complicated and strangely simple. L remains overwhelmed, and is attempting to thin out sensory input to better process what requires the most attention. He actually does it habitually, but it's admittedly easier to be subtle when outfits aren't being unraveled in close contact, courting the prospect of an experience that is itself a ruthless barrage of stimuli. It's easiest when he's not thinking of the astonishing authenticity of the SQUIP's confession.
L's borderline obsessed with truth. Why is it so difficult to view it head-on when it's actually revealed, even more difficult to accept for what it is? Perhaps that's at least why he's anxious to close the distance between them, allowing his towel to drop away as he climbs onto the bed himself, mounting his partner and taking advantage of foreplay's conventions to hide his face under the shaggy fringe of his bangs, bowing his head, pressing his lips around the SQUIP's left nipple and smoothing the blade of his tongue against the sensitive bud. As the heat between them swells and rises, he reaches under the pillows, grasping for a small lotion bottle that often migrates underneath them.]