Hot on the back of Gen's neck comes a huffy breath as Iroha laughs at that response. He's quick to make good on what he wants, both for his own desires and so as to not keep Gen waiting. That mouth is slick and perfect... His cock responds to the substitute, throbbing harder for attention.

"Mmnh," he's very unabashedly vocal, turned on by the saliva sounds and the thought of how it must taste to Gen. He'd just had that hand wrapped around his dick seconds ago.

Iroha licks the side of Gen's neck, somewhere near the same time his fingers are released. That felt good, he's desperate to pull down the kawaii onesie now and fumbles between that and keeping his torso close enough to use the ample spit on Gen's dick. It's not the smoothest maneuver. Iroha yanks down the zipper, immeasurably glad that this outfit doesn't have paws. The metal line goes down forever - all the way from between his clavicle bones to just above his pubic hair. Nothing underneath, Iroha shimmies out of it with one arm first and actually does feel a little apologetic for the time needed to let go and do the other.

His closed fist is not off Gen's dick for long, though. By now his body is burning up and his urges are stronger than wanting to be respectful of a new partner. The noises coming from his throat are indicative if the slide of his cock between Gen's thighs isn't enough.