[It's fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of his life he'll never get back. It's fine. So's everything else John has done to date. If he's completely inexperienced he tries not to let it show as he leans over and plucks the button off and zip down on Prokopenko's jeans.
He lifts his gaze but he finds he can't make eye contact, averting his gaze swiftly. He doesn't look overly enthusiastic but he's not complaining or wrinkling his nose either. He pulls jeans and underwear down a little lower before-... wait what is this.
John looks a little surprised, a little nervous, a little unsure as his gaze flits from a pale, bare chest to hands to chin and then back to the distinct lack of a prick. He was just expecting, you know, what with how Prokopenko looks like any other bloke from the outside.]
no subject
He lifts his gaze but he finds he can't make eye contact, averting his gaze swiftly. He doesn't look overly enthusiastic but he's not complaining or wrinkling his nose either. He pulls jeans and underwear down a little lower before-... wait what is this.
John looks a little surprised, a little nervous, a little unsure as his gaze flits from a pale, bare chest to hands to chin and then back to the distinct lack of a prick. He was just expecting, you know, what with how Prokopenko looks like any other bloke from the outside.]
...what am I supposed to put in my mouth?