( wow. you'll kiss your dog with tongue, but you won't share a drink? )
Other poison.
( doesn't count if it's socially acceptable. )
You have a lot of impatience, for a rank four.
( and when he picks up the correct drink to give it a try, it's partially to hide his smile. though the events of the game had been a rollercoaster, to say the least, the return to normalcy afterwards felt welcome, satisfying. enough so to put him in a such an uncharacteristically good mood, at their reunion. it won't last forever; june promises to have some dark moments in store. right now, though...
right now, the drink is surprisingly good. kirma's palate might just be off-kilter from a lifetime of scavenging and rot, but the light sweetness complements the heavy taste of the absinthe, and maybe that is something worth a prize. )
Isn't my company the reward? — You'd say something like that, if it was my asking.
( Esikko knows he has to nurse this carefully if he wants to keep his wits about him. Not that he has to worry too much, he supposes. Kirma is his bodyguard, right? Nothing bad will happen.
Even if that last time, and the time before... Hmm.
He draws his fingers around the rim of his glass. )
And must you bring up my rank? Don't say it so loudly. I'm working on fixing that, so I won't be that number for long.
( oh. but he's working on fixing that too, you see. )
Do you really need to do that?
( there's a shift in the air, some of the playfulness draining away. it's a good opportunity for another drink; kirma has no concerns about moderation. he doesn't even have concerns about savoring it, tossing the rest of the glass back, leaving the rose petal stuck to the side in a wilted memory of what it once contained.
with that settled, his chin finds its way to rest on esi's shoulder, the weighty pressure of his body returning in full pointed force. )
We don't both need to be highly ranked. Isn't that inefficient?
( wait, he wasn't done being ominous. but— kirma does a side eye of his own, back towards the drinks. he wouldn't expect esi to tolerate the obvious plan of staying irrelevant in order to further boost kirma's status, even if it would be easier in so many ways. it's annoying, if only because it isn't as though esi doesn't benefit from it. he isn't the type to be such a good person as to not want those benefits, either; for all that he's taken from him, this bit of charity is where he draws the line?
a small huff escapes kirma's chest, and he scoots the barstool a little closer. thigh to thigh, his hand releases esi's seat in order to slide up his hip instead, fingers wiggling into his pants pocket on the side. hiii. )
It was fine. ( can't you tell? ) Since I'm a generous person... I'll consider a request of yours, as a prize.
( consider being the operative word. if it sucks he won't do it. maybe. )
( normally, he wouldn't see any harm in that ask. knowing that there's going to be a significant update sooner than later— )
There's nothing you want now?
( the fact that he's not being scolded is heartening, though. enough that his fingers wiggle a little further in, and that he flags the bartender down for seconds. )
( hmm. suspicious. he can only assume esi means to use it on something dire, behind closed doors, something well outside the scope of a cutesy exchange. on the other paw, he's still not being thrown off or lectured for being handsy... )
... Fine.
( mild disappointment leaks through, his usual barriers already weakening under the influence of alcohol. let's be lightweights together. the second drink arrives, and, after a moment's consideration, downs it just as quickly as the first.
it does not help his pawsy status. without a drink to hold onto, his free hand settles for gripping esi's thigh instead, as his tail sways. given another ten minutes or so as the second drink truly takes hold and... let's just say horses. )
( So grabby... It's incredibly distracting. The drinks here are, of course, prone to causing arousal or heightened sensitivity, and so Esikko is hyper aware of every touch, grab and lean.
His face, a little flushed from his own drink, ducks down slightly as Kirma downs that second one. )
You're going to get trashed like that. You're even worse than me, aren't you? Drink some water.
( Kirma is not "worse" than him... they even out, height vs muscle, probably. )
( all the drinks in all the worlds are at their disposal, and esi thinks he should drink water? hardly. instead, his hand lifts to tap on the menu, drawing esi's attention back towards it. )
Pick out something else for me.
( demanding, pushy dog. four months ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of making a request of him at all; funny, how much one little incident can change a man's outlook forever. he hasn't said no to esi since, of course— but the option is always there, now. the vindictive part of him might be buried deep now, but it still hopes esi recognizes that fact, too. )
( He's pushing it. But after a brief pause, Esikko decides he's feeling too relaxed to focus on it for long. He'd rather not invite any touchiness, and so... )
You've gotten bossy.
( He leaves it at that comment, eyes skimming down the list again. He's finished one drink, is now well into another, and he points out the classic Sazerac, ordering it for him. )
For the record, I won't be helping you if you grow ill from this.
( not in so many words, anyway. how many years has he spent alone, even after being in esi’s company? enough that it’s hard to envision anything else, no matter how much he’d want it, to be in his care— the earnest kind, without knives or twisted words. an impossible dream, to be sure. too many thoughts in rapid succession has the fingers in esi’s pocket curling, digging in at his hip. a sign of things to come… maybe. )
The point of this place is to enjoy ourselves, right? So—
( a small interruption, at being served, again. a new drink means a new round of sniffs, as if to try and piece together what’s in the glass with his meager knowledge of foreign spirits. hmm… )
— That’s all I’m doing.
( and maybe, being bossy is part of that, a little. surely esi can understand the appeal of acting in such a manner, given that it’s practically his default state of being. )
( he isn't so put off by the terminology as to add any emphasis to his correction, but the drinks do a long way towards blunting the edge to his feelings. the slight pull to his hair makes him turn, head tilting towards esi— towards the touch. )
( ...Hm. Lots of things to think about coming from this conversation alone. Piecing them with previous conversations? Should be a giant red flag.
But he ignores those. )
I'm aware that you share your space with me, but...
( Letting Kirma's hair slip away from his fingers, and therefore bringing his touch back so that he can finish off his second drink, he offers a smile. )
I don't have a key. And so many others seem to make it their home away from home, too, don't they?
Not that I mind what you do with your own space, of course. ( He does. ) But it is difficult to think of it as mine, so won't you humor me and invite me over?
( immediate and defensive. the people, the person esi obliquely refers to has also been a point of silence since—
kirma shifts in his seat again, pulling his hand free from esi's pocket. he doesn't withdraw completely; his chin ends up on esi's shoulder, staring, no, gazing up at him. the sazerac sits on the bar, forgotten, condensation collecting on the surface of the glass. it doesn't have to be difficult. that's all on esi, he thinks. again: if they actually worked together instead of always being at odds, maybe that problem wouldn't have to be so prominent, either. convincing him of that fact, though?
the plan is already in motion, one way or another. )
... Stay over. ( plink. ) The staff finally fixed the bathtub.
( it seems as part of righting all of clubs' efforts, a few other unintentional fixes were caught in the ripples of energy and electricity. while kirma is none too happy about it, the ghosts have also left him alone enough that he's willing to try and see if it stays that way without his little "offerings." )
( Oh... So he won't have to run to Kizuna's after anything happens? Esikko lifts his chin a little, clearly interested, before reaching out to lightly boop Kirma's nose. It's the alcohol hitting him, too, surely. )
Hehe. I suppose I can stay for a night or two.
( That's how he's left feeling right now, anyway. And riding on that, he reaches with the arm not currently being leaned on, picking up Kirma's drink for a sip of his own.
As expected, though, it's far too strong for his taste, and he sticks his tongue out a little in disgust before pushing it at Kirma. )
( he learned a trick for this, you see, back during cocktail roulette. kirma's head lifts so he can chase after esi, one hand cupping his cheek in order to pull him into a kiss. the taste of the cocktail is a strong one and his ears flick back and forth, but he doesn't pull away; his tongue slips in to his mouth, chasing the hints of sweetness leftover from the fruity monstrosity he'd been sipping at, earlier. smorch.
the thing that sticks out the most to him is how quickly things change. not just here, in the peacock— every lifetime feels as though it drags on until the point they finally meet again, wherein they promptly collide in a whirlwind of violence and blood for the second, two, three it takes for them to have to start all over again. in this one, they've hardly known each other, have nearly spent more time together in this gilded cage (lol) than back home, and yet— here he is, shoving his tongue down the crown prince's throat like it's just another tuesday. it's inexplicable.
maybe that's why the only thing they can ever think to do is die at each other's hands.
when their lips finally part, kirma stays close. there's also like, no hiding a sweatpants boner so... sorryyyyyy 🙈 )
Stay for two.
( he won't actually have the choice, but maybe it'll go over easier if he thinks he had some agreement in it. )
( It's not what he's expecting at all, so there's surprise in his eyes as Kirma kisses him. No, it's not just a kiss— he's shoving his tongue in his mouth, in public?
He doesn't dislike it at all, responding after a shocked hesitation, even leaning into the kiss as it finally parts to chase every bit that's left. His face is flushed from more than just alcohol now, and a puff of air escapes his lips as he looks away to hide it, pushing the drink at him more firmly. Drink this!! )
...Two. Sure. So long as you make it good.
( That's his teasing little comment, an agreement even if he's so reluctant to admit it. He wants to be wanted, so of course he wants to create a little push and pull...
Not as much as it's going to create, but. That's for another day. Right now, his eyes are finally sliding back down to that sweatpants boner (hello.), and he laughs a little under his breath, sliding his palm to run over Kirma's thigh. Kinda cute. )
( he laughs a little, too. the drink can get chugged now, he guesses. slowly but surely, he's getting better at drinking whiskey without the burn in his throat making him cough, step one of a long journey to having any sort of tolerance at all. his tail wags, and on the surface, things couldn't look more different from their last time at the cage, only a few weeks ago.
but on the inside— though spades is a feather-light touch, practically invisible but for how the space where it intersects with his brand stays cleared even in its absence, kirma's thoughts are still firmly planted in visions of dark times past. how long before more of them play out on this particular stage, he wonders. maybe it doesn't actually bear thinking about; it'll happen, or it won't. tonight feels like the second option. tomorrow morning? )
You think it's the drinks?
( it's a little the drinks. he likes to imagine it's more the company. spicy mayo is his favorite, isn't it? esi's saving grace here is that he'd need at least three more drinks to try fucking him in public again, without any suit pressure. )
( He could make a joke about being able to carry a part of him, if he cut it off, but. Esi decides to let that slide for now, giving a little laugh of his own as he pushes his barstool back. Standing shows that he's a little wobbly, though it's nowhere near the amount he'd had back the last time they were here...
But it's enough to be relaxed. To be happy. And so, why not? )
If it's not the drinks, is it something I did? ( He's trying to look as cute as possible right now. Of course. )
Come on, then, let's get going. If you fall over, I'll leave you there, okay?
( thanks for not ruining the moment by being a freak!
their journey back to the room is a winding one, punctuated by stumbles and the occasional return to their earlier kiss, against a wall here, in the elevator car there. the lingering effects of esi’s selections have kirma pawing at him in an uncharacterically clingy manner, more for attention and closeness than anything else; the power of knocking back three strong drinks in a row with nothing to temper them shouldn’t be underestimated. that’ll be a lesson well-learned in the morning.
thankfully, it’s still the evening. this time, when kirma fumbles with the door lock, it’s from the looseness of his body and a vision that threatens to swim rather than an unfamiliarity with the watch. another thing he’s begun to get used to, and even take for granted. the suite inside is as much the same as it is changed. the layout seems to have flipped itself, and there are a few, more subtle changes: an alternate upholstery pattern, a different tile in the kitchen. none of their belongings are out of place, and that’s what counts. probably.
kirma doesn’t think to mention it, already dragging esi towards the bed before the door even clicks shut. it’s his turn to be the impatient one, though just for a closeness rather than any specific intimacy; more than ever, he doesn’t care what happens, as long as it starts that happening, like— ten seconds ago. )
( It's kind of fun, to stumble back to a room like this. So why was so Kirma against the flirty phrasing of inviting him back in the first place? Who knows. But now, they're there, the room is spacious and comfortable, unlike his own, and he eagerly follows Kirma, his eyes only briefly acknowledging the changes to the room. That's a thought for later.
For now, he grabs a fistful of Kirma's lazy looking shirt, fingers curling tightly so that he can yank him into a kiss as they walk. It's stumbling, and he's sure he slips into an accidental bite of lip or tongue more than once, and maybe steps on Kirma's foot somewhere, but it's heated, it's nice, it's exactly what he was looking for.
Something mindless. Something to not think about while the floating feeling of alcohol runs through his body. Something... consistent, maybe. Something less risky than the less.
The more he reaffirms it, though, the more some strange, creeping anxieties seem to crop up. And so he focuses on the taste of the alcohol on Kirma's tongue, on shoving him back onto the bed and crawling into his lap immediately after, on craning his neck downwards to meet his eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth again.
it's an injury easily soothed by mouth and tongue, though. a little flinch, and they've already moved on, kirma offering no resistance to esi's shove, all lazy smiles and wags. times like these, he thinks he could get used to the resort's hedonism. a soft whine escapes his lips against esi's. this lap situation is nice and all, but it's not enough. not while there's a pleasant burn in his stomach, and the warmth of esi's body is enough to match it, somehow.
his hands slide around, trying to find esi's waist, batting uselessly at the elegant layers he has on. can you get this fancy shit off, please. it's far more obtrusive than anything kirma is wearing, a fact clearly communicated by the erection pressing against esi's thigh. (time will tell if that thing actually gets the attention it needs, though.) another quiet noise, and his hips roll upward, trying to increase the degree of contact.
— but seriously, the clothes. the clothes! at least take the shirt off; he's desperate for a little skinship, here. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Other poison.
( doesn't count if it's socially acceptable. )
You have a lot of impatience, for a rank four.
( and when he picks up the correct drink to give it a try, it's partially to hide his smile. though the events of the game had been a rollercoaster, to say the least, the return to normalcy afterwards felt welcome, satisfying. enough so to put him in a such an uncharacteristically good mood, at their reunion. it won't last forever; june promises to have some dark moments in store. right now, though...
right now, the drink is surprisingly good. kirma's palate might just be off-kilter from a lifetime of scavenging and rot, but the light sweetness complements the heavy taste of the absinthe, and maybe that is something worth a prize. )
Isn't my company the reward? — You'd say something like that, if it was my asking.
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( Esikko knows he has to nurse this carefully if he wants to keep his wits about him. Not that he has to worry too much, he supposes. Kirma is his bodyguard, right? Nothing bad will happen.
Even if that last time, and the time before... Hmm.
He draws his fingers around the rim of his glass. )
And must you bring up my rank? Don't say it so loudly. I'm working on fixing that, so I won't be that number for long.
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Do you really need to do that?
( there's a shift in the air, some of the playfulness draining away. it's a good opportunity for another drink; kirma has no concerns about moderation. he doesn't even have concerns about savoring it, tossing the rest of the glass back, leaving the rose petal stuck to the side in a wilted memory of what it once contained.
with that settled, his chin finds its way to rest on esi's shoulder, the weighty pressure of his body returning in full pointed force. )
We don't both need to be highly ranked. Isn't that inefficient?
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What do you mean, inefficient? You're a high enough rank. All of our points can go towards me.
( Lifting his drink, he takes a long sip, eyes closing. When he sets the glass down again with a sigh, he tries to push past this. )
So, do you like it? It sounds like you might just like it.
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a small huff escapes kirma's chest, and he scoots the barstool a little closer. thigh to thigh, his hand releases esi's seat in order to slide up his hip instead, fingers wiggling into his pants pocket on the side. hiii. )
It was fine. ( can't you tell? ) Since I'm a generous person... I'll consider a request of yours, as a prize.
( consider being the operative word. if it sucks he won't do it. maybe. )
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It's nice, to be wanted. He turns to look at him, their faces nearly touching, a small smile now in place. )
A request? Can I save it?
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There's nothing you want now?
( the fact that he's not being scolded is heartening, though. enough that his fingers wiggle a little further in, and that he flags the bartender down for seconds. )
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Haha... It almost feels like there's something you want, at least.
( Lifting his glass to his lips, he leans back a little into that wiggling hand, meeting his eyes. )
But I want to save that request.
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... Fine.
( mild disappointment leaks through, his usual barriers already weakening under the influence of alcohol. let's be lightweights together. the second drink arrives, and, after a moment's consideration, downs it just as quickly as the first.
it does not help his pawsy status. without a drink to hold onto, his free hand settles for gripping esi's thigh instead, as his tail sways. given another ten minutes or so as the second drink truly takes hold and... let's just say horses. )
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His face, a little flushed from his own drink, ducks down slightly as Kirma downs that second one. )
You're going to get trashed like that. You're even worse than me, aren't you? Drink some water.
( Kirma is not "worse" than him... they even out, height vs muscle, probably. )
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( all the drinks in all the worlds are at their disposal, and esi thinks he should drink water? hardly. instead, his hand lifts to tap on the menu, drawing esi's attention back towards it. )
Pick out something else for me.
( demanding, pushy dog. four months ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of making a request of him at all; funny, how much one little incident can change a man's outlook forever. he hasn't said no to esi since, of course— but the option is always there, now. the vindictive part of him might be buried deep now, but it still hopes esi recognizes that fact, too. )
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You've gotten bossy.
( He leaves it at that comment, eyes skimming down the list again. He's finished one drink, is now well into another, and he points out the classic Sazerac, ordering it for him. )
For the record, I won't be helping you if you grow ill from this.
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( not in so many words, anyway. how many years has he spent alone, even after being in esi’s company? enough that it’s hard to envision anything else, no matter how much he’d want it, to be in his care— the earnest kind, without knives or twisted words. an impossible dream, to be sure. too many thoughts in rapid succession has the fingers in esi’s pocket curling, digging in at his hip. a sign of things to come… maybe. )
The point of this place is to enjoy ourselves, right? So—
( a small interruption, at being served, again. a new drink means a new round of sniffs, as if to try and piece together what’s in the glass with his meager knowledge of foreign spirits. hmm… )
— That’s all I’m doing.
( and maybe, being bossy is part of that, a little. surely esi can understand the appeal of acting in such a manner, given that it’s practically his default state of being. )
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While Kirma begins sniffing his new drink, Esikko reaches to take a strand of his dark hair between his fingers, winding it around them in a curl. )
Oh? Are you trying to take me back to your room, tonight?
( he doesn't know )
I suppose I could be convinced.
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It's our room.
( he isn't so put off by the terminology as to add any emphasis to his correction, but the drinks do a long way towards blunting the edge to his feelings. the slight pull to his hair makes him turn, head tilting towards esi— towards the touch. )
You need to be convinced to return home?
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But he ignores those. )
I'm aware that you share your space with me, but...
( Letting Kirma's hair slip away from his fingers, and therefore bringing his touch back so that he can finish off his second drink, he offers a smile. )
I don't have a key. And so many others seem to make it their home away from home, too, don't they?
Not that I mind what you do with your own space, of course. ( He does. ) But it is difficult to think of it as mine, so won't you humor me and invite me over?
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( immediate and defensive. the people, the person esi obliquely refers to has also been a point of silence since—
kirma shifts in his seat again, pulling his hand free from esi's pocket. he doesn't withdraw completely; his chin ends up on esi's shoulder, staring, no, gazing up at him. the sazerac sits on the bar, forgotten, condensation collecting on the surface of the glass. it doesn't have to be difficult. that's all on esi, he thinks. again: if they actually worked together instead of always being at odds, maybe that problem wouldn't have to be so prominent, either. convincing him of that fact, though?
the plan is already in motion, one way or another. )
... Stay over. ( plink. ) The staff finally fixed the bathtub.
( it seems as part of righting all of clubs' efforts, a few other unintentional fixes were caught in the ripples of energy and electricity. while kirma is none too happy about it, the ghosts have also left him alone enough that he's willing to try and see if it stays that way without his little "offerings." )
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Hehe. I suppose I can stay for a night or two.
( That's how he's left feeling right now, anyway. And riding on that, he reaches with the arm not currently being leaned on, picking up Kirma's drink for a sip of his own.
As expected, though, it's far too strong for his taste, and he sticks his tongue out a little in disgust before pushing it at Kirma. )
After you finish this.
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( he learned a trick for this, you see, back during cocktail roulette. kirma's head lifts so he can chase after esi, one hand cupping his cheek in order to pull him into a kiss. the taste of the cocktail is a strong one and his ears flick back and forth, but he doesn't pull away; his tongue slips in to his mouth, chasing the hints of sweetness leftover from the fruity monstrosity he'd been sipping at, earlier. smorch.
the thing that sticks out the most to him is how quickly things change. not just here, in the peacock— every lifetime feels as though it drags on until the point they finally meet again, wherein they promptly collide in a whirlwind of violence and blood for the second, two, three it takes for them to have to start all over again. in this one, they've hardly known each other, have nearly spent more time together in this gilded cage (lol) than back home, and yet— here he is, shoving his tongue down the crown prince's throat like it's just another tuesday. it's inexplicable.
maybe that's why the only thing they can ever think to do is die at each other's hands.
when their lips finally part, kirma stays close. there's also like, no hiding a sweatpants boner so... sorryyyyyy 🙈 )
Stay for two.
( he won't actually have the choice, but maybe it'll go over easier if he thinks he had some agreement in it. )
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He doesn't dislike it at all, responding after a shocked hesitation, even leaning into the kiss as it finally parts to chase every bit that's left. His face is flushed from more than just alcohol now, and a puff of air escapes his lips as he looks away to hide it, pushing the drink at him more firmly. Drink this!! )
...Two. Sure. So long as you make it good.
( That's his teasing little comment, an agreement even if he's so reluctant to admit it. He wants to be wanted, so of course he wants to create a little push and pull...
Not as much as it's going to create, but. That's for another day. Right now, his eyes are finally sliding back down to that sweatpants boner (hello.), and he laughs a little under his breath, sliding his palm to run over Kirma's thigh. Kinda cute. )
Those drinks certainly got to you, didn't they~?
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but on the inside— though spades is a feather-light touch, practically invisible but for how the space where it intersects with his brand stays cleared even in its absence, kirma's thoughts are still firmly planted in visions of dark times past. how long before more of them play out on this particular stage, he wonders. maybe it doesn't actually bear thinking about; it'll happen, or it won't. tonight feels like the second option. tomorrow morning? )
You think it's the drinks?
( it's a little the drinks. he likes to imagine it's more the company. spicy mayo is his favorite, isn't it? esi's saving grace here is that he'd need at least three more drinks to try fucking him in public again, without any suit pressure. )
Maybe you'll have to carry me back. ( lmao )
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( He could make a joke about being able to carry a part of him, if he cut it off, but. Esi decides to let that slide for now, giving a little laugh of his own as he pushes his barstool back. Standing shows that he's a little wobbly, though it's nowhere near the amount he'd had back the last time they were here...
But it's enough to be relaxed. To be happy. And so, why not? )
If it's not the drinks, is it something I did? ( He's trying to look as cute as possible right now. Of course. )
Come on, then, let's get going. If you fall over, I'll leave you there, okay?
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their journey back to the room is a winding one, punctuated by stumbles and the occasional return to their earlier kiss, against a wall here, in the elevator car there. the lingering effects of esi’s selections have kirma pawing at him in an uncharacterically clingy manner, more for attention and closeness than anything else; the power of knocking back three strong drinks in a row with nothing to temper them shouldn’t be underestimated. that’ll be a lesson well-learned in the morning.
thankfully, it’s still the evening. this time, when kirma fumbles with the door lock, it’s from the looseness of his body and a vision that threatens to swim rather than an unfamiliarity with the watch. another thing he’s begun to get used to, and even take for granted. the suite inside is as much the same as it is changed. the layout seems to have flipped itself, and there are a few, more subtle changes: an alternate upholstery pattern, a different tile in the kitchen. none of their belongings are out of place, and that’s what counts. probably.
kirma doesn’t think to mention it, already dragging esi towards the bed before the door even clicks shut. it’s his turn to be the impatient one, though just for a closeness rather than any specific intimacy; more than ever, he doesn’t care what happens, as long as it starts that happening, like— ten seconds ago. )
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For now, he grabs a fistful of Kirma's lazy looking shirt, fingers curling tightly so that he can yank him into a kiss as they walk. It's stumbling, and he's sure he slips into an accidental bite of lip or tongue more than once, and maybe steps on Kirma's foot somewhere, but it's heated, it's nice, it's exactly what he was looking for.
Something mindless. Something to not think about while the floating feeling of alcohol runs through his body. Something... consistent, maybe. Something less risky than the less.
The more he reaffirms it, though, the more some strange, creeping anxieties seem to crop up. And so he focuses on the taste of the alcohol on Kirma's tongue, on shoving him back onto the bed and crawling into his lap immediately after, on craning his neck downwards to meet his eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth again.
He doesn't want to talk. He just wants to feel. )
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it's an injury easily soothed by mouth and tongue, though. a little flinch, and they've already moved on, kirma offering no resistance to esi's shove, all lazy smiles and wags. times like these, he thinks he could get used to the resort's hedonism. a soft whine escapes his lips against esi's. this lap situation is nice and all, but it's not enough. not while there's a pleasant burn in his stomach, and the warmth of esi's body is enough to match it, somehow.
his hands slide around, trying to find esi's waist, batting uselessly at the elegant layers he has on. can you get this fancy shit off, please. it's far more obtrusive than anything kirma is wearing, a fact clearly communicated by the erection pressing against esi's thigh. (time will tell if that thing actually gets the attention it needs, though.) another quiet noise, and his hips roll upward, trying to increase the degree of contact.
— but seriously, the clothes. the clothes! at least take the shirt off; he's desperate for a little skinship, here. )
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