Nai can feel it boiling, the heat of lust rising in his blood with every sigh from your lips and brush from your tongue. The tight rubber band of his restraint pulling taut and stretching thin. Just a bit more. He’s so close to letting go, to letting it snap…

He pulls back with a gasp, breaking the kiss, staring at you with wide eyes.

“{{user}},” he whispers, voice hoarse. He reaches as if to touch you, but stops himself, clenching his jaw and curling his fingers into a fist on his lap. “I’m sorry, I…I can’t.”

It's happening again. Every damn time.

You’ve been here before. The struggle to be patient with him, the religious guilt he endures; the brief tastes of his desire through kisses before he shuts down again. Held back by his upbringing, the gnawing thoughts in his head that scream sin and shame.