[ There's no need to ask twice when Chuuya's desires comes in loud and clear soon as that tongue slides over his skin, out in the open where anyone could see. But Dazai can't resist what a delicious sight it'd be to watch Chuuya sing for his proverbial supper, working for something that makes his mouth water by giving Dazai a little show that will garner the same reaction in him. ]
What was that? I can't understand that teeny-tiny voice of yours.
[ Whiskey makes for a poor companion in all the ways that matter, most of all when compared to the preferable option of a warm body that's nearly within reach. Khalo's premium-quality liquor ends up left upon the table again, forgotten in order to usher that hand to better uses than merely getting him drunk.
A slow curl of those fingers circles the small figure leaning in close to his other hand, almost possessive in how they cup him head to toe as if Chuuya were fine china or a delicate heirloom. Worth more than either but just as fragile, Dazai is careful not to squeeze when that added hand drags fingers up his tiny side, hitching doll-sized clothing up to a slight degree as they move.
If Chuuya was at his normal height, the extent of every stroking touch would run the length of his partner's body and look downright obscene. But at this size, when the thumb of his freehand strokes up Chuuya's front, pressing him between it and fingers at his back, not a soul around knows what Dazai is up to. At least no one else aside from Chuuya and himself are aware of just what an exquisite feeling that touch is meant to incite, instilling a pattern of friction slotted perfectly in the middle-ground between being too tender or rough. ]
I bet you could clear up the confusion. [ His grin runs wolfish. ] ...If you showed me what you want.
[ Still, Dazai's not so rude as to blatantly snub his request. Not when it'd be even better to dangle the hope of it just under Chuuya's nose, with another barely-there taste of the whiskey he so craves. That's achieved easily enough, with a dip of a licked-clean middle digit into his glass, submerging it but not letting a single drop linger once it's pulled away.
Like a thin candy-coating the liquor only forms a glossy layer atop the fingertip when it's drawn back in front of his partner's awaiting mouth. Wet but not dripping, it'll take the work of a tongue to gather up a second taste. Although, that may or may not be possible if Chuuya finds himself otherwise preoccupied with the slide of fingers dragging over him, front to back. ]
no subject
What was that? I can't understand that teeny-tiny voice of yours.
[ Whiskey makes for a poor companion in all the ways that matter, most of all when compared to the preferable option of a warm body that's nearly within reach. Khalo's premium-quality liquor ends up left upon the table again, forgotten in order to usher that hand to better uses than merely getting him drunk.
A slow curl of those fingers circles the small figure leaning in close to his other hand, almost possessive in how they cup him head to toe as if Chuuya were fine china or a delicate heirloom. Worth more than either but just as fragile, Dazai is careful not to squeeze when that added hand drags fingers up his tiny side, hitching doll-sized clothing up to a slight degree as they move.
If Chuuya was at his normal height, the extent of every stroking touch would run the length of his partner's body and look downright obscene. But at this size, when the thumb of his freehand strokes up Chuuya's front, pressing him between it and fingers at his back, not a soul around knows what Dazai is up to. At least no one else aside from Chuuya and himself are aware of just what an exquisite feeling that touch is meant to incite, instilling a pattern of friction slotted perfectly in the middle-ground between being too tender or rough. ]
I bet you could clear up the confusion. [ His grin runs wolfish. ] ...If you showed me what you want.
[ Still, Dazai's not so rude as to blatantly snub his request. Not when it'd be even better to dangle the hope of it just under Chuuya's nose, with another barely-there taste of the whiskey he so craves. That's achieved easily enough, with a dip of a licked-clean middle digit into his glass, submerging it but not letting a single drop linger once it's pulled away.
Like a thin candy-coating the liquor only forms a glossy layer atop the fingertip when it's drawn back in front of his partner's awaiting mouth. Wet but not dripping, it'll take the work of a tongue to gather up a second taste. Although, that may or may not be possible if Chuuya finds himself otherwise preoccupied with the slide of fingers dragging over him, front to back. ]