[The restraint would have been appreciated if Lelouch had the sense to notice it; instead, he's just going to focus on hanging on, more than a few moans of his own escaping him as he (inexpertly) rocks his hips upward, breath already coming in shorter, sharper pants. He's too aroused to be embarrassed, his thoughts too muddled, and Setsuna is applying just the right amount of pressure in just the right places (well, place) to override whatever lingering reason he had left. Who even cares?]
Setsuna. Setsuna.
[There, he'll even say your name a few more times, happy now? That soon drops off, though, because it's far too personal, makes this into something far more than what it is (they aren't lovers, this means nothing), but it could just as easily be because forming the appropriate syllables is far too demanding, slipping as Lelouch's awareness almost certainly is. Just keep moving, rubbing, grinding, he's forgetting why he ever didn't want to feel this. Why wouldn't anyone?]
no subject
Setsuna. Setsuna.
[There, he'll even say your name a few more times, happy now? That soon drops off, though, because it's far too personal, makes this into something far more than what it is (they aren't lovers, this means nothing), but it could just as easily be because forming the appropriate syllables is far too demanding, slipping as Lelouch's awareness almost certainly is. Just keep moving, rubbing, grinding, he's forgetting why he ever didn't want to feel this. Why wouldn't anyone?]