( there's an immediate scoff--disbelief, disgust, displeasure, and his tongue runs over his teeth, as though sure the next time he speaks, he'll be spitting blood. this goes a little further than just some guy giving him a handjob in a room that's claustrophobic as fuck; this seems to imply that he's going to have to bare himself for the guy who had, at one point, stretched himself out across the mattress of some pretty princess bed, hooking legs around him and panting into the sheets. it's such a juxtaposition that he squares his shoulders like he's about to argue--and then immediately chokes, a rough, squashed sound from the top of his chest.
this time, there's a round glob of pale blue petals, smeared into the jar, tumbling over each other as they fall along the side.
deftly, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand; he should smear it into the bedsheets, at this point, but he's not feeling quite so vindictive. yet. )
Seriously? ( there's a husky chuckle of disbelief, a wheezing breath. ) You? You're gonna fuck me?
( it isn't that he's that kind of toxic (just every other kind of toxic) where the thought of spreading his legs for someone is something he could never fathom; it isn't even like he hasn't entertained the thought from time to time, either. it's more that everyone has always wanted one thing from him, and that thing has been natural to give: he's never had anyone pushing him down, clawing for him to give up that measure of control.
and he didn't think it would be this guy, of all people. he swallows, eyeing him for a moment--but he does bend to set the jar down, a subtle start. )
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this time, there's a round glob of pale blue petals, smeared into the jar, tumbling over each other as they fall along the side.
deftly, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand; he should smear it into the bedsheets, at this point, but he's not feeling quite so vindictive. yet. )
Seriously? ( there's a husky chuckle of disbelief, a wheezing breath. ) You? You're gonna fuck me?
( it isn't that he's that kind of toxic (just every other kind of toxic) where the thought of spreading his legs for someone is something he could never fathom; it isn't even like he hasn't entertained the thought from time to time, either. it's more that everyone has always wanted one thing from him, and that thing has been natural to give: he's never had anyone pushing him down, clawing for him to give up that measure of control.
and he didn't think it would be this guy, of all people. he swallows, eyeing him for a moment--but he does bend to set the jar down, a subtle start. )
Is that something you're sure you wanna do?