[Acutely aware of his pulse, Takasugi breathes evenly, deliberately, in time with the beat of his heart. His thumb moves along with that rhythm, skirting Solomon's hairline - not gentle enough to be a caress.
But there isn't any other name for it.
The warmth of the man's neck is enticing, his hands chilled. All of him, despite the putrid Wyver heat, feels too damn cold. When Solomon disconnects, he shivers - but he doesn't allow himself to be swept up in the man's embrace.
Instead, Takasugi sways backwards. The table saves him, palm hitting the edge of it harshly before anchoring his weight against it. Head lulled, he catches a glimpse of Solomon's state of arousal - those leggings doesn't leave anything to the imagination.
He chuckles, before lifting his heavy head to meet Solomon's gaze.] Unfortunate.
[Solomon's inability to turn him. And the boner.
Takasugi pushes forward, fingers remaining against the rough wood of the table while his other hand rises. With his thumb, he smears the spot of blood that remains on Solomon's face across his lip.
So he can lick himself clean - though he'll never look it, lips stained a gory red stark against his complexion.] I'm not interested in sharing this with anyone else.
[His reason for denial is something more like not knowing the extent of what would be exchanged between them should they undergo a Pact.
But there's some honesty in his excuse - he'd hate for what little they've wrought from each other to be taken for another purpose. He sucks at sharing.]
no subject
But there isn't any other name for it.
The warmth of the man's neck is enticing, his hands chilled. All of him, despite the putrid Wyver heat, feels too damn cold. When Solomon disconnects, he shivers - but he doesn't allow himself to be swept up in the man's embrace.
Instead, Takasugi sways backwards. The table saves him, palm hitting the edge of it harshly before anchoring his weight against it. Head lulled, he catches a glimpse of Solomon's state of arousal - those leggings doesn't leave anything to the imagination.
He chuckles, before lifting his heavy head to meet Solomon's gaze.] Unfortunate.
[Solomon's inability to turn him. And the boner.
Takasugi pushes forward, fingers remaining against the rough wood of the table while his other hand rises. With his thumb, he smears the spot of blood that remains on Solomon's face across his lip.
So he can lick himself clean - though he'll never look it, lips stained a gory red stark against his complexion.] I'm not interested in sharing this with anyone else.
[His reason for denial is something more like not knowing the extent of what would be exchanged between them should they undergo a Pact.
But there's some honesty in his excuse - he'd hate for what little they've wrought from each other to be taken for another purpose.
He sucks at sharing.]