he flexes his hand over his sidearm, stroking his thumb along the receiver. for a second he says nothing, watching in silence as crais nimbly unlaces his boots. it's a second too long for someone whose mind turns in steady rhythm with all his reflexes, an uncertainty edged in raw discomfort. feels too much like some long-buried instinct twitching to life on the field after years in reserve, uncomfortably primal.
still human after all, but this guy. not human. right. not predictable like most people, either. )
Okay. ( and then he's back on track, picking up where he left off, airy and light. he lifts his hand from his sidearm and steps away because he said he was going to leave it on the table, so he's going to fucking leave it on the table. ) You wanna talk boundaries. Sure.
( he bends his leg at the knee, arching back to unlace his boots one at a time and kick them off into a corner haphazardly. )
I don't like being fucked on my front. I'll fuck you on your front if that's what gets you off, but I personally don't like giving anyone my back, and I don't like anyone fondling the nape of my neck like they're the pope blessing me with inner peace and love or whatever the fuck the pope does in that giant hat of his all day.
( the implant, overwhelmingly sensitive and fragile out of armor, connected to his brainstem at the base of his neck.
he eases to his knee in front of crais, curving his hand under his calf and wiggling his foot out of his boot, set neatly aside near the foot of the bed. his hand slides higher once he's finished, following a crease in his pant-leg to the inside of his knee and smoothing it with his thumb. one little imperfection erased away.
he looks up at crais, rocking onto his haunches. )
You can hurt me if you want. Slapping, choking, bite the fuck out of me, make me bleed a little, all aces, love it, go for it. I'll hurt you if you want, too, but I need specifics on where to stop.
no subject
he flexes his hand over his sidearm, stroking his thumb along the receiver. for a second he says nothing, watching in silence as crais nimbly unlaces his boots. it's a second too long for someone whose mind turns in steady rhythm with all his reflexes, an uncertainty edged in raw discomfort. feels too much like some long-buried instinct twitching to life on the field after years in reserve, uncomfortably primal.
still human after all, but this guy. not human. right. not predictable like most people, either. )
Okay. ( and then he's back on track, picking up where he left off, airy and light. he lifts his hand from his sidearm and steps away because he said he was going to leave it on the table, so he's going to fucking leave it on the table. ) You wanna talk boundaries. Sure.
( he bends his leg at the knee, arching back to unlace his boots one at a time and kick them off into a corner haphazardly. )
I don't like being fucked on my front. I'll fuck you on your front if that's what gets you off, but I personally don't like giving anyone my back, and I don't like anyone fondling the nape of my neck like they're the pope blessing me with inner peace and love or whatever the fuck the pope does in that giant hat of his all day.
( the implant, overwhelmingly sensitive and fragile out of armor, connected to his brainstem at the base of his neck.
he eases to his knee in front of crais, curving his hand under his calf and wiggling his foot out of his boot, set neatly aside near the foot of the bed. his hand slides higher once he's finished, following a crease in his pant-leg to the inside of his knee and smoothing it with his thumb. one little imperfection erased away.
he looks up at crais, rocking onto his haunches. )
You can hurt me if you want. Slapping, choking, bite the fuck out of me, make me bleed a little, all aces, love it, go for it. I'll hurt you if you want, too, but I need specifics on where to stop.