You can kiss him without stabbing him or killing him or hurting him you can do it. You can even show him a nice time. You can be a not awful fish. Look you made him feel good with your singing so you can do that with kissing too -
Only, like. In moderation. Be good. Just be good.
with a renewed nervousness, he lets his hands rest against hurricane's shoulders for a moment before he tilts his head - the kiss is slow, gentle, certainly chaste for the moment ]
[ he lets their lips part after a moment - just briefly, before he kisses him again; it's still chaste, but this time it lingers, like he's warming them up ]
[ after the first two he can confirm - the urge to kill isn't present anymore (and hasn't been for some time - he's had lots of practice in separating himself from that part of the mentality, even if he's still struggling with the rest) and he'd been aware of that much but it's still different, still nervewracking, to wonder if this time his body would betray him - if this time he'd open his eyes again and see his dead eyes, taste his blood, feel it slick in his throat, the meat between his teeth and on his tongue and in his esophagus, slipping into the pit of his stomach - but
it's
fine.
the urge doesn't resurface; there is only nausea and disgust in the wake of his mind crossing into that fear unbidden, but his fear could be laid to rest, thank God, thank - thank - thank someone.
all that's on his face is the flush of his cheeks, the flustered half lids of his eyes and an expression that's - perhaps pacified is the best word for it, mollified by the end result being less than tragic, and he catches hurricane looking so his gaze drops lower, as though abashed - could he sense what he was thinking?
but nevertheless, he doesn't move away, hands shifting to move around the other's waist and back like a hug ]
Re: cw cannibalism/food imagery this is the life I lead
[There have been hugs since then that came without a knife. (And anyway, he's had so long between then and now. He's had years and years and years, and he's died so many worse ways. It's silly to be bothered, still, about something like that. It would be silly not to be over it by now.)]
[He settles his arms around Lucifel more steadily - runs a hand up his back, slow and searching.]
[ the touch has him startled - his clothes are loose for the sake of his tail, his back barely covered in comparison to what he's comfortable with, and while he can manage to keep himself from tensing up completely he can feel the hairs on his neck raising, the goosebumps that have his grip on hurricane's clothes tighten by just a fraction of a hair but has his heart in his eardrums again and he keeps himself still, as best as he can, for him ]
[He's on high alert for body language tells, but if Lucifel keeps from tensing, he doesn't manage to pick this one up, here in the dark. It seems the gesture's meant to be less adventurous and more soothing, though; when the hand has trailed down, it drifts up again, slow and gentle. It's an idle kind of rhythm, the kind of contact that Hurricane finds reassuring, when he's upset himself.]
[The closet is quiet enough hear it, when he swallows.]
[ it's really only that it surprised him - once he understands the motion, the way it drifts up and down steadily, he lets one hand do the same, idly moving down hurricane's back, and he nods ]
[ briefly, he licks his own fangs, swallowing just smoothly enough it's an audible but not pronounced sound, and he takes another moment before kissing him again - lips parted, though no less gentle ]
[He's good at taking cues, and he's better at reading people; what's more, he's trying hard to please. He's clumsy at first, but he mirrors what Lucifel's doing as best he's able, letting himself be guided.]
[Pressed this close together, Lucifel can probably feel him take a shaky breath in - feel the restless way one of the hands at Lucifel's back closes around the fabric, like it needs something to hold onto.]
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But - I mean. Do you wanna?
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If it's really alright, I want to . . .
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...okay. As long as you wanna.
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You can
You can kiss him
You can kiss him without stabbing him or killing him or hurting him you can do it. You can even show him a nice time. You can be a not awful fish. Look you made him feel good with your singing so you can do that with kissing too -
Only, like. In moderation. Be good. Just be good.
with a renewed nervousness, he lets his hands rest against hurricane's shoulders for a moment before he tilts his head - the kiss is slow, gentle, certainly chaste for the moment ]
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[The chapel was a long time ago, but it's hard to forget something like that.]
[But a second becomes two, and no pain comes with the kiss, and he thaws, a little, leaning into it.]
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[His eyes are open and searching, trying to parse Lucifel's expression in the dim lighting.[
cw cannibalism/food imagery this is the life I lead
it's
fine.
the urge doesn't resurface; there is only nausea and disgust in the wake of his mind crossing into that fear unbidden, but his fear could be laid to rest, thank God, thank - thank - thank someone.
all that's on his face is the flush of his cheeks, the flustered half lids of his eyes and an expression that's - perhaps pacified is the best word for it, mollified by the end result being less than tragic, and he catches hurricane looking so his gaze drops lower, as though abashed - could he sense what he was thinking?
but nevertheless, he doesn't move away, hands shifting to move around the other's waist and back like a hug ]
Re: cw cannibalism/food imagery this is the life I lead
[There have been hugs since then that came without a knife. (And anyway, he's had so long between then and now. He's had years and years and years, and he's died so many worse ways. It's silly to be bothered, still, about something like that. It would be silly not to be over it by now.)]
[He settles his arms around Lucifel more steadily - runs a hand up his back, slow and searching.]
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[The closet is quiet enough hear it, when he swallows.]
...you still doing okay?
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I'm okay. .... how about you?
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Yeah... I'm good.
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[ teasing at the hem of his clothes, restless himself ]
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Yeah, still good.
[He sounds a little breathless.]
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[This time it's Hurricane's tongue that brushes his lip - tentative, almost shy.]
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