Was Xiao serious? No. He never would be with Chizuru ─ not according to his memory of events thus far. If he ever even reached something resembling seriousness, she wouldn't survive to see the results. Well... there were a few times he gave his all, long, long ago from his perspective. Those times didn't really count, so Xiao had only one thing to say. "You'll never see me serious," he stated plainly. More important though, was Chizuru's acknowledgement of the camera ahead. She had to grant her 'final farewell' to Akira, and it came with an apology... and the claim that she'd tried. Well, now seemed a proper time for Xiao to continue the story and its accompanying show. His fingers emerged from Chizuru's mouth to grab her face, squeezing both cheeks as he tilted her head in the direction of his: to the right side of Chizuru. "Did you try? The way I see it, you've been throwing yourself at me since we got back," he said clearly. Chizuru had a request for him, but Xiao wouldn't be answering it with anything more than a bit of grinding... for the moment.
Akira wasn't allowed to speak, nor was he allowed any reprieve. He sought a break, and he got one. Where was his mind going? He didn't know. He certainly knew where most of his bodily fluids were going, though. If he thought it were possible, Akira would honestly believe his blood, sweat, tears and everything else had to be pouring out of his cock; that was simply how much of a flow he felt passing through. Still, Kokusei's electric finger was against his prostate. Still, she was slamming that flesh cushion at the bottom of her back onto his lap. Still, the only movements coming from Akira were recoil from the impact and the seizures of overstimulation. Asked if he was saying something, there were few thoughts to have. "I what?" he asked initially. It seemed he was to address this one properly if he wanted something... but what did he even want? He wanted reprieve, but he wanted more. He wanted to survive, but he wanted to persist for the rest of his life. How was he even supposed to address Kokusei 'properly' as she put it? Nothing was really coming to mind, yet everything was. 'Mommy' was quite frequent as a thought during his suffering. 'Bitch' also appeared a few times when her attitude showed itself. In the moment though, something more regal was screaming in Akira's mind. It didn't really make sense, but Akira couldn't keep himself from blurting out the question... "P... Princess?" he asked, clearly confused by his own word choice.
Akira wasn't allowed to speak, nor was he allowed any reprieve. He sought a break, and he got one. Where was his mind going? He didn't know. He certainly knew where most of his bodily fluids were going, though. If he thought it were possible, Akira would honestly believe his blood, sweat, tears and everything else had to be pouring out of his cock; that was simply how much of a flow he felt passing through. Still, Kokusei's electric finger was against his prostate. Still, she was slamming that flesh cushion at the bottom of her back onto his lap. Still, the only movements coming from Akira were recoil from the impact and the seizures of overstimulation. Asked if he was saying something, there were few thoughts to have. "I what?" he asked initially. It seemed he was to address this one properly if he wanted something... but what did he even want? He wanted reprieve, but he wanted more. He wanted to survive, but he wanted to persist for the rest of his life. How was he even supposed to address Kokusei 'properly' as she put it? Nothing was really coming to mind, yet everything was. 'Mommy' was quite frequent as a thought during his suffering. 'Bitch' also appeared a few times when her attitude showed itself. In the moment though, something more regal was screaming in Akira's mind. It didn't really make sense, but Akira couldn't keep himself from blurting out the question... "P... Princess?" he asked, clearly confused by his own word choice.
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