[Something about this spice lingers in his mouth. The tingle that dances over his tongue is an odd one. As if there was something about this heat that could only be sated if he ran his tongue up the musculature of this man's throat.
Baptiste listens to Basch's elaboration, yet his intense blue gaze has locked on how the other man's throat moves. While Basch may not boast oration as his strong suit, his words have the performer's rapt attention. The praise is a hearty stroke to Baptiste's ego, sure - but the longer he stands before this man, the more heat builds in his blood.
It was, undoubtedly, the warmest he'd felt all day - despite having been breathing life to a plume of flames not twenty minutes ago for the sake of attracting "help" for his scavenger hunt. The bitemarks - souvenirs from this little 'game' that could easily be mistaken for the promise of these awaiting 'suitors' - throb in their prominence. The sensation becomes a steady hum throughout his body.
He needed to be touched by the enraptured man before him.
He tears his final bite from the skewer. It is a purposeful gesture, as his teeth and lips work the meat off the length of the skewer. His tongue greedily laps up the glaze before finally finishing.
Baptiste steps closer to Basch. With the now-empty skewer in his hand, he gently traces down the dip of the man's neck.]
You would breed me. You would be bred by me. [A tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. Breed? Why was that the word that came to mind? Yet the way his body stirs confirms that it was indeed the right word. The only word. His heart thrums at the promise laced in those words.
He shifts the skewer to lightly scrape over Basch's throat before it continues upward to lift the taller man's chin.] A man of shameless indulgences... Yet, you sway me. Wholly.
[The intensity in his gaze is overtaken by desire. All his body knew was that he needed this stranger. This body just inches away from him would pin him if he asked. To feel those hands on him would surely soothe the heat building under his skin.]
Kiss me. Show me how devout your tongue can be.
[Baptiste drops the skewer. Despite himself, he reaches up to lace his arms over Basch's shoulders. The sensation of flesh on flesh causes a clear shiver of anticipation as Baptiste waits for the other's deference.]
No worries at all!
Baptiste listens to Basch's elaboration, yet his intense blue gaze has locked on how the other man's throat moves. While Basch may not boast oration as his strong suit, his words have the performer's rapt attention. The praise is a hearty stroke to Baptiste's ego, sure - but the longer he stands before this man, the more heat builds in his blood.
It was, undoubtedly, the warmest he'd felt all day - despite having been breathing life to a plume of flames not twenty minutes ago for the sake of attracting "help" for his scavenger hunt. The bitemarks - souvenirs from this little 'game' that could easily be mistaken for the promise of these awaiting 'suitors' - throb in their prominence. The sensation becomes a steady hum throughout his body.
He needed to be touched by the enraptured man before him.
He tears his final bite from the skewer. It is a purposeful gesture, as his teeth and lips work the meat off the length of the skewer. His tongue greedily laps up the glaze before finally finishing.
Baptiste steps closer to Basch. With the now-empty skewer in his hand, he gently traces down the dip of the man's neck.]
You would breed me. You would be bred by me. [A tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. Breed? Why was that the word that came to mind? Yet the way his body stirs confirms that it was indeed the right word. The only word. His heart thrums at the promise laced in those words.
He shifts the skewer to lightly scrape over Basch's throat before it continues upward to lift the taller man's chin.] A man of shameless indulgences... Yet, you sway me. Wholly.
[The intensity in his gaze is overtaken by desire. All his body knew was that he needed this stranger. This body just inches away from him would pin him if he asked. To feel those hands on him would surely soothe the heat building under his skin.]
Kiss me. Show me how devout your tongue can be.
[Baptiste drops the skewer. Despite himself, he reaches up to lace his arms over Basch's shoulders. The sensation of flesh on flesh causes a clear shiver of anticipation as Baptiste waits for the other's deference.]