( It's nice. All of it is. Having Dabi stretched out beneath him, the shifting and squirming as he works himself up, and the taste of his blood— that last one in particular gives him a rush that he can't fully describe. Everything about these encounters in this resort was intimate, right? By design, of course. Sex, kissing, learning about one another in those small subtle ways. But blood is something that comes up more rarely, or at least has come up more rarely for Esikko, in his (mostly) comparatively chaste little encounters.
He doesn't find the context of it gross— that Dabi is coughing it up, that it's mixed with other bodily fluids when he does. He isn't worried about it being contagious, about bloodstains, or about the flower petals. Esikko can only think of the taste lingering in his mouth, a subtle sweetness beneath the bitter, the bite of metal more of a background to the assortment of sensations he can focus on. Blood can be magic, after all, and blood is life. They're one and the same.
Closing his eyes, he breathes in deep, but the taste is fading too quickly. It feels like a tease, allowing him to have that small piece of something so important and then taking it away. He kisses harder still, tongue searching, scraping, until he opens half-lidded eyes to watch Dabi's face as he bites down on his tongue, eager to make him bleed.
He realizes near immediately that he should have tempered that desire a little, that he's noticeably out of hand for a "doctor" here— but his hand cups Dabi's face in such a gentle motion that he hopes to offset it, breathing out a gasp of air he'd forgotten to take for a while now. A little chuckle, more like a breathy giggle, comes out at the end like he's having the time of his life. )
You're making me a little impatient, looking like that.
( As if it's entirely Dabi's fault, he accuses him, shifting the way he curves over him, thumbing across his cheek, a gentle swipe beneath his eye. )
Since you're so keen on hearing me say such things... ( Out of breath, he kisses again, rocking his hips down so that they can touch, if only just for a moment. ) I want you already.
cw(???) does this count as bloodplay. he's a freak idk warning for that
He doesn't find the context of it gross— that Dabi is coughing it up, that it's mixed with other bodily fluids when he does. He isn't worried about it being contagious, about bloodstains, or about the flower petals. Esikko can only think of the taste lingering in his mouth, a subtle sweetness beneath the bitter, the bite of metal more of a background to the assortment of sensations he can focus on. Blood can be magic, after all, and blood is life. They're one and the same.
Closing his eyes, he breathes in deep, but the taste is fading too quickly. It feels like a tease, allowing him to have that small piece of something so important and then taking it away. He kisses harder still, tongue searching, scraping, until he opens half-lidded eyes to watch Dabi's face as he bites down on his tongue, eager to make him bleed.
He realizes near immediately that he should have tempered that desire a little, that he's noticeably out of hand for a "doctor" here— but his hand cups Dabi's face in such a gentle motion that he hopes to offset it, breathing out a gasp of air he'd forgotten to take for a while now. A little chuckle, more like a breathy giggle, comes out at the end like he's having the time of his life. )
You're making me a little impatient, looking like that.
( As if it's entirely Dabi's fault, he accuses him, shifting the way he curves over him, thumbing across his cheek, a gentle swipe beneath his eye. )
Since you're so keen on hearing me say such things... ( Out of breath, he kisses again, rocking his hips down so that they can touch, if only just for a moment. ) I want you already.