[Oh. Oh, he turns a little red, then. Belated in his realization that there is actually another reason for biting someone whilst wrought up, unlike the way they've set their teeth onto each other in the past (a lesson he's learned and known about already, it's just— gods, it's different when it's them, isn't it? Something they're now capable of. Something they could do.)
He remembers fevered weight across his hips. Round his wrists, pinning him down.
But then he remembers furiously pinched, dark brows glowering down at him beneath dust-caked rafters, and his own do the same now.]
Neither! He kept insisting he was better than I was. That I was jealous he was more experienced just because he kissed that vapid idiot Elise!!
[That explains the rather biased exclamation that had echoed around the entirety of the Moulin Rouge. But oh, that derision . . . he lets the statement linger in the air for a few seconds, and then, gently:]
It's a foolish thing for him to say. Even if you were, it certainly wouldn't be of Elise of all creatures. [Sorry, Elise.] And experience doesn't necessarily make anyone better— growing up here, he should know that. There's plenty of whores who stay third-string for a reason.
[The brush moves higher, his head tipped low. But then, as golden eyes peer up through dark lashes, he adds gently:]
But . . . one might wonder whether or not you felt a bit of jealousy that someone else got to kiss him first.
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
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[Oh. Oh, he turns a little red, then. Belated in his realization that there is actually another reason for biting someone whilst wrought up, unlike the way they've set their teeth onto each other in the past (a lesson he's learned and known about already, it's just— gods, it's different when it's them, isn't it? Something they're now capable of. Something they could do.)
He remembers fevered weight across his hips. Round his wrists, pinning him down.
But then he remembers furiously pinched, dark brows glowering down at him beneath dust-caked rafters, and his own do the same now.]
Neither! He kept insisting he was better than I was. That I was jealous he was more experienced just because he kissed that vapid idiot Elise!!
[Elise!!!]
Can you believe that— jealous of a fucking whore.
no subject
[That explains the rather biased exclamation that had echoed around the entirety of the Moulin Rouge. But oh, that derision . . . he lets the statement linger in the air for a few seconds, and then, gently:]
It's a foolish thing for him to say. Even if you were, it certainly wouldn't be of Elise of all creatures. [Sorry, Elise.] And experience doesn't necessarily make anyone better— growing up here, he should know that. There's plenty of whores who stay third-string for a reason.
[The brush moves higher, his head tipped low. But then, as golden eyes peer up through dark lashes, he adds gently:]
But . . . one might wonder whether or not you felt a bit of jealousy that someone else got to kiss him first.