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[Agreeing each step of the way, yet he's somehow managed to remain a thorn in McGillis's side. He almost laughs at his impossibility, but he's already swept up in the dizzying depths of his touch, reaching in with complete abandon.
It shuts him up at first, being kissed so deeply so fast, but the invasion between his thighs urges a soft sound right back out of him. Jeremiah lets himself go down, opening to the touch and reaching back, settling his hips to fit together. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, but he can't resist the urge to surge back up into that hair of his. It's not the same with gloves, the locks nearly slip right through his fingers unless he holds on properly.
Jeremiah doesn't pull, though, just holds on. McGillis backs him to the rail and he just grunts softly through his nose, a faint, dulled clunk when his spine hits metal, even through the layers of his clothes. Which, frankly, are definitely too much at this point, but he'll suffer a moment longer to keep from pulling away. Opening the floodgates is dangerous, it's never not dangerous, because Jeremiah will dive in every time the water looks good. It's exceedingly easy to end up lost.
Canting his hips slightly, Jeremiah presses back, curious as to what there is to feel through his suit. The garment is frustrating in a sense because it's hard to get the leverage he wants with no excess fabric to wrap in his fist, but the tightness offers no barrier to mapping every curve of his muscle, his bones.]
It shuts him up at first, being kissed so deeply so fast, but the invasion between his thighs urges a soft sound right back out of him. Jeremiah lets himself go down, opening to the touch and reaching back, settling his hips to fit together. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, but he can't resist the urge to surge back up into that hair of his. It's not the same with gloves, the locks nearly slip right through his fingers unless he holds on properly.
Jeremiah doesn't pull, though, just holds on. McGillis backs him to the rail and he just grunts softly through his nose, a faint, dulled clunk when his spine hits metal, even through the layers of his clothes. Which, frankly, are definitely too much at this point, but he'll suffer a moment longer to keep from pulling away. Opening the floodgates is dangerous, it's never not dangerous, because Jeremiah will dive in every time the water looks good. It's exceedingly easy to end up lost.
Canting his hips slightly, Jeremiah presses back, curious as to what there is to feel through his suit. The garment is frustrating in a sense because it's hard to get the leverage he wants with no excess fabric to wrap in his fist, but the tightness offers no barrier to mapping every curve of his muscle, his bones.]
[This close, he really was a beautiful man. McGillis has devoured his fair share of nobles—sometimes for diplomatic ends, sometimes for fun—but Jeremiah has a bit of bite and that intrigues him. Even as he was being eaten, he was an active participant, pushing back and showing off his own teeth. It intrigues him and it incenses him, like cracking a whip at an irate bull.
Working his leg like a wedge, his knee grazes that sensitive groin, rubbing steady circles around the area. Moaning into their not quite kiss, McGillis does away with any pretenses and shoves his tongue into Jeremiah's mouth. And he fucks it, relentlessly, with the full power of a domineering general. Tries to choke him, tries to bend him to his will, to force his submission.
Yet he will also submit, if only in his own way. As Jeremiah seeks contact, McGillis leans into his touch. The skintight suit hides little and McGillis hides even less; he allows Jeremiah to feel out the sweep of his chest, his taut belly, the jut of his hips and the curve of his thighs. He was a well-built specimen and seems to know it, especially between his legs, especially that cock.
To which he laughs, heady, between every gasp for breath.]
Such a shame, little noble...
[An absurdly large man and in every possible way. Slowly stirring to life, McGillis presses the shape of his stiff cock to his hand.]
I really would like to fuck you.
Working his leg like a wedge, his knee grazes that sensitive groin, rubbing steady circles around the area. Moaning into their not quite kiss, McGillis does away with any pretenses and shoves his tongue into Jeremiah's mouth. And he fucks it, relentlessly, with the full power of a domineering general. Tries to choke him, tries to bend him to his will, to force his submission.
Yet he will also submit, if only in his own way. As Jeremiah seeks contact, McGillis leans into his touch. The skintight suit hides little and McGillis hides even less; he allows Jeremiah to feel out the sweep of his chest, his taut belly, the jut of his hips and the curve of his thighs. He was a well-built specimen and seems to know it, especially between his legs, especially that cock.
To which he laughs, heady, between every gasp for breath.]
Such a shame, little noble...
[An absurdly large man and in every possible way. Slowly stirring to life, McGillis presses the shape of his stiff cock to his hand.]
I really would like to fuck you.
[The last of his usual restraint slips away when the pressure targets itself directly between his legs, McGillis's tongue once more in his mouth. Pleasure runs like a shot of lightning, so fast it's hard to tell where it started and where it reaches last. He can't help the incremental stutter of his hips, right into that firm, broad muscle.
How telling. The drugs and the missed time are still there, urging him, but it's the force of nature standing before him that's doing him in most of all, only making his want grow. Literally, no doubt he can feel that by now, no trappings in Jeremiah's standard method of dress to conceal it. For every misstep, every slight, he'll have to just show his sincerity other ways, with his body. It's in the mindful grip in his hair, his lips ravenous but letting himself be kissed more than lead it. His hands, however, only press more firmly when he feels McGillis's weight in it. It's still so hard to actually grip anything, so he doesn't stay put, instead trying to map everything he can. The firm give of muscle is so good, though different through the unfamiliar suit, wrapped around springy and tight.
This nickname really leaves something to be desired, but he'll leave it if it doesn't prod that terrible ego for a while longer. A discussion for another time. He's busy cupping the swell in McGillis's suit, now that he's been properly introduced. Stroking slow, but squeezing firm enough, feeling out as much as he can. His words come out hushed, still panting.]
That may take too long to prepare for.
[It's not going to work if he just slicks up and sticks it in, that's for sure. Jeremiah's absolutely not patient enough for that much preparation right now, not what it would take with him so out of practice. Will it even fit in his mouth?]
God. [Jeremiah sighs it, slipping out before he can stop. He grips a little firmer, carefully. Wanting. Not necessarily for his specific words, just wanting him.]
How telling. The drugs and the missed time are still there, urging him, but it's the force of nature standing before him that's doing him in most of all, only making his want grow. Literally, no doubt he can feel that by now, no trappings in Jeremiah's standard method of dress to conceal it. For every misstep, every slight, he'll have to just show his sincerity other ways, with his body. It's in the mindful grip in his hair, his lips ravenous but letting himself be kissed more than lead it. His hands, however, only press more firmly when he feels McGillis's weight in it. It's still so hard to actually grip anything, so he doesn't stay put, instead trying to map everything he can. The firm give of muscle is so good, though different through the unfamiliar suit, wrapped around springy and tight.
This nickname really leaves something to be desired, but he'll leave it if it doesn't prod that terrible ego for a while longer. A discussion for another time. He's busy cupping the swell in McGillis's suit, now that he's been properly introduced. Stroking slow, but squeezing firm enough, feeling out as much as he can. His words come out hushed, still panting.]
That may take too long to prepare for.
[It's not going to work if he just slicks up and sticks it in, that's for sure. Jeremiah's absolutely not patient enough for that much preparation right now, not what it would take with him so out of practice. Will it even fit in his mouth?]
God. [Jeremiah sighs it, slipping out before he can stop. He grips a little firmer, carefully. Wanting. Not necessarily for his specific words, just wanting him.]
[So weak and so fast. It would have been a bit disappointing but McGillis recognizes that not every man was a sexual guru; he also recognizes that some were more sensitive than others and apparently that was the case here. For a moment, he draws back. Just a little, just enough to appreciate Jeremiah in all his stuttering glory. While he wasn't anything like soft, he can at least admire that unusually striking appearance, those crisp clothes which compliment a cocksure attitude. Running fingers through the fancy sweep of hair, which drop slowly down.]
Careful now. Wouldn't want you to lose it, long before you ever get near my mouth.
[Allowing Jeremiah a moment to catch his breath—or at least try—he angles his mouth away, bites like before but not so brutally. More of a curious nibble as he alternates between nipping and sucking the soft flesh above the jugular, where he could bleed out. All the while, he rocks into that steady grip, moaning with every squeeze and stroke. His fingers hook into his belt and unwind it without even looking, the sign of a true prodigy, then sneak beneath his layers to travel up that toned torso. And naturally, he doesn't get far before he runs into a speed bump.
Or rather he figures out what made him so heavy, not that it took a particularly brilliant mind.]
Prostheses...?
[It could have killed the mood, but to the contrary, McGillis seems fascinated. So much so that he tries to strip his coat to get at the pieces of interest.]
Careful now. Wouldn't want you to lose it, long before you ever get near my mouth.
[Allowing Jeremiah a moment to catch his breath—or at least try—he angles his mouth away, bites like before but not so brutally. More of a curious nibble as he alternates between nipping and sucking the soft flesh above the jugular, where he could bleed out. All the while, he rocks into that steady grip, moaning with every squeeze and stroke. His fingers hook into his belt and unwind it without even looking, the sign of a true prodigy, then sneak beneath his layers to travel up that toned torso. And naturally, he doesn't get far before he runs into a speed bump.
Or rather he figures out what made him so heavy, not that it took a particularly brilliant mind.]
Prostheses...?
[It could have killed the mood, but to the contrary, McGillis seems fascinated. So much so that he tries to strip his coat to get at the pieces of interest.]
[It's different when McGillis's strike hits its mark so cleanly, but the stakes aren't the same either. Just as he can't hide his current weaknesses to touch, to another human's warmth, he can't hide anything else. Certainly not from someone who would take and take and take with so little regard, simply because they desire it.
He's actually grateful. Having to lay it all out spares him little time towards wringing his hands. Jeremiah's more reticent simply because he'd been enjoying himself, but. Well, the sudden, adamant curiosity bolsters him, even if it's daunting to face in turn.]
Ah... yes, that. [Yes, "that," like he'd ever forgotten it would come up with the next person to see or touch him without clothing. Jeremiah sighs a little through his nose, pulling his hold away so he can extract his arms out of his jacket, which he really could have removed himself, come now. He lets it fall away in a stunning display of poor etiquette, either to hang from McGillis's grip or onto the floor, and... well. It's gonna take getting through more layers than that to get to revealing his back in full.]
I don't mind, if you'd like to see it.
[He's saying this as he's already stripping his gloves off, already figuring McGillis's hands will continue their path regardless. His cravat is the next to go.]
He's actually grateful. Having to lay it all out spares him little time towards wringing his hands. Jeremiah's more reticent simply because he'd been enjoying himself, but. Well, the sudden, adamant curiosity bolsters him, even if it's daunting to face in turn.]
Ah... yes, that. [Yes, "that," like he'd ever forgotten it would come up with the next person to see or touch him without clothing. Jeremiah sighs a little through his nose, pulling his hold away so he can extract his arms out of his jacket, which he really could have removed himself, come now. He lets it fall away in a stunning display of poor etiquette, either to hang from McGillis's grip or onto the floor, and... well. It's gonna take getting through more layers than that to get to revealing his back in full.]
I don't mind, if you'd like to see it.
[He's saying this as he's already stripping his gloves off, already figuring McGillis's hands will continue their path regardless. His cravat is the next to go.]
[Cool, just use him as a coat hanger. That will definitely help with the whole "asshole noble" image.]
Do I look like a maid to you...
[McGillis grumbles, as he acts exactly like a maid and proceeds to fold that jacket and drape it over the guardrail. Fortunately for Jeremiah, McGillis prides himself upon fastidiousness, so he doesn't really mind so much. Especially with the promise of a lovely show, which has McGillis easing up a bit on that mean streak and looking a little excitable at the prospect of a prosthetic.
Kind of like patting a feral mutt on the maw. Still chancing a nasty bite, or rabies, or both, but every boy was a good boy deep down. Sometimes you just really had to dig deep.]
And I command all sorts of men, so it isn't something new.
[...you're not fooling anyone, McGillis, not with that wagging tail.]
Do I look like a maid to you...
[McGillis grumbles, as he acts exactly like a maid and proceeds to fold that jacket and drape it over the guardrail. Fortunately for Jeremiah, McGillis prides himself upon fastidiousness, so he doesn't really mind so much. Especially with the promise of a lovely show, which has McGillis easing up a bit on that mean streak and looking a little excitable at the prospect of a prosthetic.
Kind of like patting a feral mutt on the maw. Still chancing a nasty bite, or rabies, or both, but every boy was a good boy deep down. Sometimes you just really had to dig deep.]
And I command all sorts of men, so it isn't something new.
[...you're not fooling anyone, McGillis, not with that wagging tail.]
[Your fault for getting grabby, McGillis. Should have let him deal with it himself.]
No, but thank you all the same.
[And he means it, simply as he says it. The other man's irritations towards the prim and proper clearly haven't stopped him from having manners, even if he constantly twists them when and as he sees fit. The cushion his coat forms on the railing makes a good place for him to lay down his paired gloves. Pulling the untied cravat out from his collar, he smooths it over with his hands to fold a few times, before setting it there as well.
For a second there he'd wanted to be rash and careless, but there's been a shift, like the storm inside McGillis altered course. The heat in his eyes is there, but it's deep, tempered with a strange patience. Jeremiah doesn't slow his movements, though neither was he hurried to start, working the topmost clasp on his vest apart.]
I see. [The closure pops open, and he reaches down to the second one. Perhaps the movement is a little more deliberate than usual.] ... it's not common, where I come from.
[He's not the only casualty of war who came out the other side with metal in them to keep them whole and moving. He may be the only one who was also turned into a lab rat, though that may be less evident to McGillis's eyes.]
No, but thank you all the same.
[And he means it, simply as he says it. The other man's irritations towards the prim and proper clearly haven't stopped him from having manners, even if he constantly twists them when and as he sees fit. The cushion his coat forms on the railing makes a good place for him to lay down his paired gloves. Pulling the untied cravat out from his collar, he smooths it over with his hands to fold a few times, before setting it there as well.
For a second there he'd wanted to be rash and careless, but there's been a shift, like the storm inside McGillis altered course. The heat in his eyes is there, but it's deep, tempered with a strange patience. Jeremiah doesn't slow his movements, though neither was he hurried to start, working the topmost clasp on his vest apart.]
I see. [The closure pops open, and he reaches down to the second one. Perhaps the movement is a little more deliberate than usual.] ... it's not common, where I come from.
[He's not the only casualty of war who came out the other side with metal in them to keep them whole and moving. He may be the only one who was also turned into a lab rat, though that may be less evident to McGillis's eyes.]
[This wasn't just a noble by trade, he realizes, but a noble by blood. And a few things click into place for McGillis, as he was raised alongside a fussy little brat and learned all of his little proclivities. How he liked his tea and how he loved his dessert; how he would walk and talk and treat the servants; how he was waited on and doted upon and offered every advantage.
All in service to society, to the weak and the downtrodden—the very essence of noblesse oblige. To some extent, those people couldn't turn it off. They were born into privilege and bred for power and would never know how to live without either one. They never had to fight for food or fuck for money and they never had to grasp it, the idea of a bigger world beyond their own.
But with a body like that, this man must have....
There was a market for that sort of thing. Illegal parts, bought and sold, grafted onto skin and usually with horrific results. All for a fetish, all chasing a cheap high. McGillis can't imagine that Jeremiah chose that fate. He's still fascinated, of course, but it's more of a muted expression. Touching his fingers to the misshapen pieces, he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Then he bends his head, presses his mouth to a bit of metal, and kisses it as if to say it doesn't bother me at all.]
All in service to society, to the weak and the downtrodden—the very essence of noblesse oblige. To some extent, those people couldn't turn it off. They were born into privilege and bred for power and would never know how to live without either one. They never had to fight for food or fuck for money and they never had to grasp it, the idea of a bigger world beyond their own.
But with a body like that, this man must have....
There was a market for that sort of thing. Illegal parts, bought and sold, grafted onto skin and usually with horrific results. All for a fetish, all chasing a cheap high. McGillis can't imagine that Jeremiah chose that fate. He's still fascinated, of course, but it's more of a muted expression. Touching his fingers to the misshapen pieces, he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Then he bends his head, presses his mouth to a bit of metal, and kisses it as if to say it doesn't bother me at all.]
I've a goal in mind I would like to ask for and I intend to see it through.
Furthermore, I am not happy with accommodations. I do not need a lot to live off of; but this kind of living is ridiculous when even in the military back home we were amply provided for.
It displeases me and I intend to change it immediately. Hence the timing.
Furthermore, I am not happy with accommodations. I do not need a lot to live off of; but this kind of living is ridiculous when even in the military back home we were amply provided for.
It displeases me and I intend to change it immediately. Hence the timing.
I can certainly understand that. It's a standard that leaves something to be desired.
[He's still not sure how or even if he'll amend his words from the beach, nor has he expected it to haunt him so soon. The rest gets rewritten a few times until he feels comfortably vague.]
What did you have in mind?
[He's still not sure how or even if he'll amend his words from the beach, nor has he expected it to haunt him so soon. The rest gets rewritten a few times until he feels comfortably vague.]
What did you have in mind?
[The last clasp comes undone, and he shrugs off his vest with an easy shift of his shoulders. Folded and away it goes. Jeremiah regards his shirt, his fingers pausing at the first button for just a second before he works it open. The rest of the buttons go quickly, and once it hangs open, he shrugs the fabric off. Refreshing, really, after how overheated one can get in all those layers.
From the front, he looks utterly normal. Toned, not with the same impressive curves as McGillis, obvious even through his suit, just cut in a smoother, slender profile. Jeremiah turns to the side as he sets his shirt down, then rotates most of the way around to show. The only metal aside from the mask on his face sits along the length of his spine, diamond-shaped panels in an interlocking row of burgundy. Near the middle sit a trio of orange ports in a vertical line, at least an inch in diameter. Somewhere for something to plug into, not just for cosmetic appearance.
He can see in his periphery, at least, as McGillis reaches. There's no flinch when his hand meets him, the resistance noticeable even if he can't feel the actual touch. He's far from the first person to touch this, obviously, but in this context it doesn't feel strange for a lover, nor clinical as the scientists were. The kiss that follows isn't tangible from his lips alone, but there's the whisper of his hair, the warmth of his face sending tingles through his skin.
Jeremiah turns to look more fully over his shoulder, curious for a glimpse of those poisonous eyes. What he finds is unsurprising, but it still makes the set of his shoulders relax a little more. He hums, just a wordless acknowledgement for now, arching closer to the touch.]
From the front, he looks utterly normal. Toned, not with the same impressive curves as McGillis, obvious even through his suit, just cut in a smoother, slender profile. Jeremiah turns to the side as he sets his shirt down, then rotates most of the way around to show. The only metal aside from the mask on his face sits along the length of his spine, diamond-shaped panels in an interlocking row of burgundy. Near the middle sit a trio of orange ports in a vertical line, at least an inch in diameter. Somewhere for something to plug into, not just for cosmetic appearance.
He can see in his periphery, at least, as McGillis reaches. There's no flinch when his hand meets him, the resistance noticeable even if he can't feel the actual touch. He's far from the first person to touch this, obviously, but in this context it doesn't feel strange for a lover, nor clinical as the scientists were. The kiss that follows isn't tangible from his lips alone, but there's the whisper of his hair, the warmth of his face sending tingles through his skin.
Jeremiah turns to look more fully over his shoulder, curious for a glimpse of those poisonous eyes. What he finds is unsurprising, but it still makes the set of his shoulders relax a little more. He hums, just a wordless acknowledgement for now, arching closer to the touch.]
Good. Then I will meet you there.
[ not one to waste time, this angelo. he arrives at said bar soon enough, though he gets lost along the way considering everything in this wasteland looks more or less the same. only a few buildings were clearly revamped, which he thinks is a result of some of the denizens here putting work in it.
angelo is no stranger to bars, and vices, but this was a life he'd left behind a long time ago. any other time he'd be worried about slipping, but not anymore. not when he knows who he is. not when he knows who to fight for. everything in this wasteland is a distraction and the fact that he has to participate in it is annoying, but he understands rules and he understands conditions.
so he arrives, in his stiff presence, looking incredibly out of place because of his uniform and bearing, if not for the fact that he looks too pretty in this crowd anyway. ]
[ not one to waste time, this angelo. he arrives at said bar soon enough, though he gets lost along the way considering everything in this wasteland looks more or less the same. only a few buildings were clearly revamped, which he thinks is a result of some of the denizens here putting work in it.
angelo is no stranger to bars, and vices, but this was a life he'd left behind a long time ago. any other time he'd be worried about slipping, but not anymore. not when he knows who he is. not when he knows who to fight for. everything in this wasteland is a distraction and the fact that he has to participate in it is annoying, but he understands rules and he understands conditions.
so he arrives, in his stiff presence, looking incredibly out of place because of his uniform and bearing, if not for the fact that he looks too pretty in this crowd anyway. ]
[The walk eases his mind a good deal. This is just part of the adjustment, he knows it, that's what happens when you get thrown in headfirst. You sometimes have to act to keep from stumbling, then figure out the rest on the way.
He's just tired of adjusting. It's why he settled down.
But he still loves bars, and he's missed the companionship to be found at one no matter where the road leads. It's easy enough to stave off the rest of the unknowns for a while. And to his full credit, Angelo does stand out well when he first passes through the doors, surveying the room in full for a newly-familiar face. The pale hair grabs his eye, and as Jeremiah approaches, reacquainting himself from a distance, he does admit he has been afforded very attractive company. The cut of his uniform certainly doesn't hurt.]
Lieutenant Sauper, good afternoon. [Or should it be "Angelo?" Hm. Maybe not yet.]
He's just tired of adjusting. It's why he settled down.
But he still loves bars, and he's missed the companionship to be found at one no matter where the road leads. It's easy enough to stave off the rest of the unknowns for a while. And to his full credit, Angelo does stand out well when he first passes through the doors, surveying the room in full for a newly-familiar face. The pale hair grabs his eye, and as Jeremiah approaches, reacquainting himself from a distance, he does admit he has been afforded very attractive company. The cut of his uniform certainly doesn't hurt.]
Lieutenant Sauper, good afternoon. [Or should it be "Angelo?" Hm. Maybe not yet.]
Angelo is fine, if it makes the situation more comfortable. I will not have you stand on ceremony either way.
Thank you for making time for me.
[ still too formal, even if he's in a bar. the reality is that angelo doesn't really know how to live like a citizen anymore; there are many things that he's already given up in service to his captain. a normal life is one of them, and he did so easily. the one he had before wasn't worth talking about, anyhow.
but he is trying to be more personable. after all, he has a goal, and it will not do if he shuts him out of opportunities for it to come true just because he can't behave himself properly. ]
Thank you for making time for me.
[ still too formal, even if he's in a bar. the reality is that angelo doesn't really know how to live like a citizen anymore; there are many things that he's already given up in service to his captain. a normal life is one of them, and he did so easily. the one he had before wasn't worth talking about, anyhow.
but he is trying to be more personable. after all, he has a goal, and it will not do if he shuts him out of opportunities for it to come true just because he can't behave himself properly. ]
Very well, Angelo. [He's actually keen to try it out, just once. It feels nice on his lips, and the smile it draws is genuine.]
It's no trouble.
[Though it's certainly a lot to think about. He regards the young man, then glances towards the bar itself, then gestures towards it in question. This is old hat, right? Besides, there's never a bad time for a drink.]
Shall we?
It's no trouble.
[Though it's certainly a lot to think about. He regards the young man, then glances towards the bar itself, then gestures towards it in question. This is old hat, right? Besides, there's never a bad time for a drink.]
Shall we?
Certainly.
[ the truth was that jeremiah wasn't bad looking, either. he has a dignified look that angelo can learn to respect, reminding him much of cuaron and the other boys.
the only drawback to this arrangement was the fact that he was not blond. ]
I hope you've been well. And staying out of trouble.
[ which were hilarious words, considering angelo is more likely to get into trouble than he was. the bar was bustling, at least, even at this time, though really it's not like there's anything else going on in this wasteland. drinks are flowing liberally -- they're free during the first of the month, though angelo is more than content to drink red wine. ]
[ the truth was that jeremiah wasn't bad looking, either. he has a dignified look that angelo can learn to respect, reminding him much of cuaron and the other boys.
the only drawback to this arrangement was the fact that he was not blond. ]
I hope you've been well. And staying out of trouble.
[ which were hilarious words, considering angelo is more likely to get into trouble than he was. the bar was bustling, at least, even at this time, though really it's not like there's anything else going on in this wasteland. drinks are flowing liberally -- they're free during the first of the month, though angelo is more than content to drink red wine. ]
[He might've been surprised by it, but he wasn't disgusted by it. Despite what McGillis may have claimed, treating sex like a transaction was abhorrent. It made him feel cheap, as though he had been thrown back into that filthy brothel—just another whore for hire as opposed to a self-made man. And Jeremiah, for any and all faults, had at least made the effort to accommodate his curiosity, even though it wasn't strictly necessary. It couldn't have possibly been the first time and it absolutely wouldn't have been fair to stare. He's still a human, not a circus freak.
But even so, he can't quite resist the urge to touch. He does try to strike a reasonable balance, though, aiming for respectful admiration. Skimming the tips of his trim nails over the grooves and understanding the purpose for those ports at once: he was part of a machine. Definitely a pilot and likely a little more than that, given the intricate nature of the circuitry and its design.
...he was an experiment.
What a troubling time for such a revelation. Rather than ruin the mood, he simply states:]
Let me look at it later.
[Not quite venomous, actually the opposite—a subtle invitation to a proper bed.]
But even so, he can't quite resist the urge to touch. He does try to strike a reasonable balance, though, aiming for respectful admiration. Skimming the tips of his trim nails over the grooves and understanding the purpose for those ports at once: he was part of a machine. Definitely a pilot and likely a little more than that, given the intricate nature of the circuitry and its design.
...he was an experiment.
What a troubling time for such a revelation. Rather than ruin the mood, he simply states:]
Let me look at it later.
[Not quite venomous, actually the opposite—a subtle invitation to a proper bed.]
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