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Summary
Suguru reaches out, snatching one of Satoru's hands, stilling its movement. He interlaces their fingers and pins the hand to the bed over Satoru's head.
"Satoru," he murmurs.
"And from there the applications are—what?" Satoru jerks, startled halfway through a thought. His pink lips are plush and glossy, just begging to be kissed.
Suguru runs his fingers through Satoru's silky hair, watching as the fine strands fall from his grasp and float gently back down to rest on his blindfold.
"You look very pretty today."
Or,
Suguru puts Satoru's praise kink to good use.