[Everything has gone hazy around the edges like a daydream. Molly makes a throaty noise at the feel of teeth on his already heavily marked up chest, reveling in that brief suggestion of danger. He bleeds so much on his own terms that he doesn't fear a little blood, and there are people in the world who get off on it. He would hardly be the one to not oblige it.
His hands, sharp-nailed and calloused from handling blades rake through Takasugi's hair as he leans forward, while Molly's knee continues to gingerly seek out points of interest that he can reach, adding them to some mental catalog to seek out when he has better access. He pays clear attention, noting when he goes for the sash, and lets his leg fall flat. Always leave them wanting more. So goes the circus, so goes sexual deviancy.
That daydream feeling is giving this a backdrop it doesn't have. Molly is creature of emotion. Random encounters don't suit him unless he has developed some sort of emotional connection, but nothing like that happened. Moments ago he'd been thinking about his sword belt and how his sole encounter with this person had been intriguing, but not worth this, but the pollen has blinded his eyes and intrigue now seems good enough.
But that, of course, means, not knowing quite where to take the lead or be led, he responds with his usual tricks, reading the metaphorical room enough to dig his nails into an arm as he pulls his hand away from the tangle of his hair, and to let any gentle caresses, along back and leg, be done by his squirming whipcord of a tail as the clothes start to fall away, and, all the while, Molly ducks his chin and plants kisses on every part of Takasugi's head he can reach, even once going as far as to get his teeth around a dark lock and pull with enough pressure to sting, but not enough to snatch him bald. Merely an indication of playful impatience. He even giggles a bit once he's let go.]
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His hands, sharp-nailed and calloused from handling blades rake through Takasugi's hair as he leans forward, while Molly's knee continues to gingerly seek out points of interest that he can reach, adding them to some mental catalog to seek out when he has better access. He pays clear attention, noting when he goes for the sash, and lets his leg fall flat. Always leave them wanting more. So goes the circus, so goes sexual deviancy.
That daydream feeling is giving this a backdrop it doesn't have. Molly is creature of emotion. Random encounters don't suit him unless he has developed some sort of emotional connection, but nothing like that happened. Moments ago he'd been thinking about his sword belt and how his sole encounter with this person had been intriguing, but not worth this, but the pollen has blinded his eyes and intrigue now seems good enough.
But that, of course, means, not knowing quite where to take the lead or be led, he responds with his usual tricks, reading the metaphorical room enough to dig his nails into an arm as he pulls his hand away from the tangle of his hair, and to let any gentle caresses, along back and leg, be done by his squirming whipcord of a tail as the clothes start to fall away, and, all the while, Molly ducks his chin and plants kisses on every part of Takasugi's head he can reach, even once going as far as to get his teeth around a dark lock and pull with enough pressure to sting, but not enough to snatch him bald. Merely an indication of playful impatience. He even giggles a bit once he's let go.]