( Though Esikko pushes away any acknowledgement of the intense hold he keeps of their hands— the curling, the squeezing, the gentle and occasional swipe of his thumb over Dabi's— he can at least recognize one thing as he pulls back for a breath, just enough to get a fuller view of Dabi: he's cute like this. Isn't that interesting? That a man so scarred, falling apart, so sour, and blunt, and a little mean... that he could be kissing him so hotly, holding him in with his legs, matching his every move with just as much eagerness.
Fondness and excitement mix in his eyes before he leans back down, pushes back into him harder, and steals those lips again. He'd thought it before, back during the first time, that he could stand to enjoy something like this again. That it wouldn't matter how as long as their bodies were pressed together and he could feel his warmth like this. But now, without the influence of a game, he feels like he's confirmed it for himself; he'd like to keep this.
Isn't that a dangerous feeling?
Incredibly so. As his fingers tighten white knuckled into his grip of their joined hands, he hums into his mouth, kisses again, open-mouthed on the lips, and then at the corner, and then to his jaw, before he pauses there. )
...Can you feel it, when I do that?
( The question is soft, out of breath, a little distracted. It's something he's been wondering for some time now, but it seems all the more relevant now that he's trying to push other thoughts away, trying to angle himself in the perfect way to make Dabi's body tense around him just right, trying to catch the look in his eyes when he does.
Regardless of whether Dabi answers or not, he thinks he knows. It must be a no. He wonders, briefly, if he might be able to make something for that, if he'd even want it in the first place. And so he moves, back to his lips, his teeth gently scraping in a nip over the top before he curls his tongue hotly into his mouth, pressing his hips down sharper, harder, longer. It feels too good. )
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Fondness and excitement mix in his eyes before he leans back down, pushes back into him harder, and steals those lips again. He'd thought it before, back during the first time, that he could stand to enjoy something like this again. That it wouldn't matter how as long as their bodies were pressed together and he could feel his warmth like this. But now, without the influence of a game, he feels like he's confirmed it for himself; he'd like to keep this.
Isn't that a dangerous feeling?
Incredibly so. As his fingers tighten white knuckled into his grip of their joined hands, he hums into his mouth, kisses again, open-mouthed on the lips, and then at the corner, and then to his jaw, before he pauses there. )
...Can you feel it, when I do that?
( The question is soft, out of breath, a little distracted. It's something he's been wondering for some time now, but it seems all the more relevant now that he's trying to push other thoughts away, trying to angle himself in the perfect way to make Dabi's body tense around him just right, trying to catch the look in his eyes when he does.
Regardless of whether Dabi answers or not, he thinks he knows. It must be a no. He wonders, briefly, if he might be able to make something for that, if he'd even want it in the first place. And so he moves, back to his lips, his teeth gently scraping in a nip over the top before he curls his tongue hotly into his mouth, pressing his hips down sharper, harder, longer. It feels too good. )