[ zetes will forgive him the few seconds it takes for his shirt to find somewhere more useful to be, a) because zetes knew what he was asking for and b) he's repaid for any minimal hurt with plains of bare skin to touch. one hand lingers at sebastian's neck but the other follows the chain of that pendant down over sebastian's chest, fingers sliding through soft hair on the way. the path skids to the right once his traced over the pendant, thumb seeking to rub back and forth once over a nipple. ]
So happy. [ zetes says between kisses, failing to sound teasing at all because he is just. ridiculously happy. somehow he forgets to sound anything but sincere.
and then he's just a vehicle for breathless sound that could be giddy chuckles, riding a high of sebastian brand compliments and the eager return of his hand and its slow, diligent strokes. sebastian's head dips just a little as he returns to that aching pace and zetes presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, knowing, from previous experience, that every climb of sensation and spark of adoration bounces back at sebastian. and that knowledge gives him reason enough to lose himself wholly in the up and down of sebastian hand for a moment, clutching sebastian but doing nothing else, pushing aside any lingering fear of selfishness. there's a time for everything, and now he needs sebastian to appreciate exactly the kind of effect he can have, zetes' heart stuttering in his chest at the precise swipe of one practiced thumb.
zetes tumbles out of his daze enough to huff, amused, at the question, the hand at sebastian's neck sliding up to touch his cheek, hoping to bring sebastian's gaze back to his. ]
Do I want you to fuck me? [ curious and contemplative, the emphasis here on fuck as his brow quirks and his lashes flutter. ]
Yeah. Yeah, if you wouldn't mind, babe. [ and he can't help the way his eyes go starry under low lids. ] That sounds awfully nice.
[ said as though he were talking about a delightful cup of tea in a novelty mug or the prospect of buying his favorite laundry detergent with a half price coupon except. nothing he can think of off the top of his head actually compares. ]
[ Ah, such is the power Zetes wields that Sebastian, for a moment, is moved to stop fondling the ass he’s very fond(ling) of, in favor of placing his much bigger hand over the one tracing down his chest, and it’s all such a warm, consumptive shock he can’t breathe. All those memories in the pendant, heated ones like this laid over top and around the simpler, gentler quiet kind: Sebastian can’t sense them, but he can sense what Zetes feels in response, along with, you know, the frank appreciation of his chest, one complementing the other like apples and cinnamon. The kiss to the bridge of his nose definitively qualifies as the latter, the low noise he makes in response possibly returned giddiness, possibly far more autonomic than even laughter. Nothing feels like Zetes letting go, trusting that everything glittering out of him and soaking into Sebastian’s skin is all the reciprocation anyone could ask for.
And then some. So he’s not exactly bored watching the slow steady pendulum of his own grip; he knows what Zetes likes by now, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being at least tinily thrilled when he can feel he’s getting something especially right. Honestly, there might be some danger of not even remembering he asked a question, despite mild mounting need to know the answer, but then there’s that touch to his cheek. Their shared language, the way they center each other. Of course Zetes has all his attention immediately.
Uh. Not that he didn’t before, it’s just more in a vein of actually exchanging words now; speaking of, if you wouldn’t mind gets this face only Zetes can induce, which is painfully charmed and painfully turned on and painfully an emotion that can only be expressed as jesus jumping fuck, or whatever blasphemy Sebastian is employing today. ]
You’re an atrocity.
[ did you know that sentence and I love you so damn much have the same number of syllables? Because they do. ]
A fucking pretty atrocity. [ go on... ] Full of wiles.
[Is Zetes laughing loudly at this? Hopefully yes, because Sebastian wants the fact that he is about to stand up and more or less throw him over his shoulder to be a little bit of a surprise, at least. When they make it to the bedroom Sebastian pretty much just drops him onto the bed - carefully, but definitely still a drop - and pounces, pinning Zetes down with infinitely conscientious weight on his wrists. ]
So, if you had to make a guess - life or death, no take backsies - would you say I mind?
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So happy. [ zetes says between kisses, failing to sound teasing at all because he is just. ridiculously happy. somehow he forgets to sound anything but sincere.
and then he's just a vehicle for breathless sound that could be giddy chuckles, riding a high of sebastian brand compliments and the eager return of his hand and its slow, diligent strokes. sebastian's head dips just a little as he returns to that aching pace and zetes presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, knowing, from previous experience, that every climb of sensation and spark of adoration bounces back at sebastian. and that knowledge gives him reason enough to lose himself wholly in the up and down of sebastian hand for a moment, clutching sebastian but doing nothing else, pushing aside any lingering fear of selfishness. there's a time for everything, and now he needs sebastian to appreciate exactly the kind of effect he can have, zetes' heart stuttering in his chest at the precise swipe of one practiced thumb.
zetes tumbles out of his daze enough to huff, amused, at the question, the hand at sebastian's neck sliding up to touch his cheek, hoping to bring sebastian's gaze back to his. ]
Do I want you to fuck me? [ curious and contemplative, the emphasis here on fuck as his brow quirks and his lashes flutter. ]
Yeah. Yeah, if you wouldn't mind, babe. [ and he can't help the way his eyes go starry under low lids. ] That sounds awfully nice.
[ said as though he were talking about a delightful cup of tea in a novelty mug or the prospect of buying his favorite laundry detergent with a half price coupon except. nothing he can think of off the top of his head actually compares. ]
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[ Ah, such is the power Zetes wields that Sebastian, for a moment, is moved to stop fondling the ass he’s very fond(ling) of, in favor of placing his much bigger hand over the one tracing down his chest, and it’s all such a warm, consumptive shock he can’t breathe. All those memories in the pendant, heated ones like this laid over top and around the simpler, gentler quiet kind: Sebastian can’t sense them, but he can sense what Zetes feels in response, along with, you know, the frank appreciation of his chest, one complementing the other like apples and cinnamon. The kiss to the bridge of his nose definitively qualifies as the latter, the low noise he makes in response possibly returned giddiness, possibly far more autonomic than even laughter. Nothing feels like Zetes letting go, trusting that everything glittering out of him and soaking into Sebastian’s skin is all the reciprocation anyone could ask for.
And then some. So he’s not exactly bored watching the slow steady pendulum of his own grip; he knows what Zetes likes by now, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being at least tinily thrilled when he can feel he’s getting something especially right. Honestly, there might be some danger of not even remembering he asked a question, despite mild mounting need to know the answer, but then there’s that touch to his cheek. Their shared language, the way they center each other. Of course Zetes has all his attention immediately.
Uh. Not that he didn’t before, it’s just more in a vein of actually exchanging words now; speaking of, if you wouldn’t mind gets this face only Zetes can induce, which is painfully charmed and painfully turned on and painfully an emotion that can only be expressed as jesus jumping fuck, or whatever blasphemy Sebastian is employing today. ]
You’re an atrocity.
[ did you know that sentence and I love you so damn much have the same number of syllables? Because they do. ]
A fucking pretty atrocity. [ go on... ] Full of wiles.
[Is Zetes laughing loudly at this? Hopefully yes, because Sebastian wants the fact that he is about to stand up and more or less throw him over his shoulder to be a little bit of a surprise, at least. When they make it to the bedroom Sebastian pretty much just drops him onto the bed - carefully, but definitely still a drop - and pounces, pinning Zetes down with infinitely conscientious weight on his wrists. ]
So, if you had to make a guess - life or death, no take backsies - would you say I mind?
[ no. ]