( how quickly things have become between them may or may not be because of this place> itself, but if he's perfectly honest, he's not sure that he cares too much about finding out the exact root of the now sprawling path in front of them. where before it had all been so narrow — again, because of all the things he had done — they have more room to move, to maneuver around one another without something else getting in the way. without there being so much tension.
perhaps this place isn't so terrible, after all. even if he's still learning his way around being human. it isn't something he thinks he's likely to ever get truly used to.
he reaches up to thread pale fingers through golden hair when his brother's head tips to the side, as that laugh comes out of him; it's one more reason to touch him, really, without there needing to be a reason behind such a simple thing in the first place, but then … vash had always been the tactile one, hadn't he? so easy and open with his affection toward himself and rem that there had been enough physical touch to go around for the three of them combined.
he's learning that he likes the simplicity of touch. fingers in hair, the brush of knuckles over skin warmer than his own. the press of lips against lips that he has already found he doesn't want to go without, now that he's gotten a taste of them.
and even with all this softness, it doesn't keep him from clicking his teeth in the other's direction. not sharply, or threatening by any means. he's playing in his own way. ) Does that mean you intend to finish it?
( the question comes out of him in a lower rumble than his voice had been a moment earlier, eyes already gone hooded and a shade or two darker in the interim. his gaze passes over the mark at his neck, the one at his collarbone and shifts into something possessive, because yes, i did that, those are the marks of my teeth and they belong on you.
and yes, fair is fair, in the long run. vash is more than welcome to leave his share of marks across the canvas that is his brother's body if he wants. he'll find no complaints here.
the kiss above his navel makes his stomach muscles tighten, tense beneath the press of his mouth but it isn't out of any measure of discomfort; more to the point, it's in anticipation that he watches every little minute shift of movement as vash maps out the lines of him, fingers dipping beneath fabric and exposing more of him with each passing second, and there is no denying the way he pushes slightly upward into the drag of his teeth.
a small sound catches in the back of his throat, and it's not quite a moan, but ir's getting there. ) You're teasing. ( it's supposed to sound accusatory … but it comes out just this side of breathless. )
no subject
perhaps this place isn't so terrible, after all. even if he's still learning his way around being human. it isn't something he thinks he's likely to ever get truly used to.
he reaches up to thread pale fingers through golden hair when his brother's head tips to the side, as that laugh comes out of him; it's one more reason to touch him, really, without there needing to be a reason behind such a simple thing in the first place, but then … vash had always been the tactile one, hadn't he? so easy and open with his affection toward himself and rem that there had been enough physical touch to go around for the three of them combined.
he's learning that he likes the simplicity of touch. fingers in hair, the brush of knuckles over skin warmer than his own. the press of lips against lips that he has already found he doesn't want to go without, now that he's gotten a taste of them.
and even with all this softness, it doesn't keep him from clicking his teeth in the other's direction. not sharply, or threatening by any means. he's playing in his own way. ) Does that mean you intend to finish it?
( the question comes out of him in a lower rumble than his voice had been a moment earlier, eyes already gone hooded and a shade or two darker in the interim. his gaze passes over the mark at his neck, the one at his collarbone and shifts into something possessive, because yes, i did that, those are the marks of my teeth and they belong on you.
and yes, fair is fair, in the long run. vash is more than welcome to leave his share of marks across the canvas that is his brother's body if he wants. he'll find no complaints here.
the kiss above his navel makes his stomach muscles tighten, tense beneath the press of his mouth but it isn't out of any measure of discomfort; more to the point, it's in anticipation that he watches every little minute shift of movement as vash maps out the lines of him, fingers dipping beneath fabric and exposing more of him with each passing second, and there is no denying the way he pushes slightly upward into the drag of his teeth.
a small sound catches in the back of his throat, and it's not quite a moan, but ir's getting there. ) You're teasing. ( it's supposed to sound accusatory … but it comes out just this side of breathless. )