[He's like a taut wire stretched to its limit. Sylus traces the faint shimmer of the golden markings on Ross’s skin with his eyes, how they seem to catch and reflect the light like the man on his lap bleeds and is forged from the very sun itself. Perhaps that could explain the heat simmering just beneath the surface of Ross’s skin, the slow-burning fire that has nothing to do with the markings and everything to do with the moment they’re caught in, that he can feel on the weight on his lap.
His red eyes soften, just an increment, though his thumb doesn’t stop its lazy rhythm against Ross’s thigh—back and forth, back and forth—an almost absent motion. It’s the kind meant to distract or be distracted by.
And he is, somewhat. He feels the pull of this place, it hums in the air around them, urging them toward something uncontrollable. He feels it in the way their thighs press together, the friction of skin against skin, the way Ross straddles him with hesitation and hunger all at once.]
I’m not innocent enough to think there won’t be consequences. [He studies Ross’s face, the way his breath hitches, the way he swallows hard as if trying to tamp down everything that’s bubbling up inside.] But all… taunts… aside, [Sylus adds, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth,] this is still your choice.
[His grip on Ross’s hand softens, his fingers loosening just enough to give him a way out if he wants it.] I happen to be in a very giving mood, [he says softly, his eyes gleaming with the same intensity as before, but there’s a thread of gentleness now, a willingness to let Ross lead.]
You can choose, [Sylus continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and quiet in the stillness between them.] If you want to receive what I’m offering… if you want to take what I want to give.
no subject
His red eyes soften, just an increment, though his thumb doesn’t stop its lazy rhythm against Ross’s thigh—back and forth, back and forth—an almost absent motion. It’s the kind meant to distract or be distracted by.
And he is, somewhat. He feels the pull of this place, it hums in the air around them, urging them toward something uncontrollable. He feels it in the way their thighs press together, the friction of skin against skin, the way Ross straddles him with hesitation and hunger all at once.]
I’m not innocent enough to think there won’t be consequences. [He studies Ross’s face, the way his breath hitches, the way he swallows hard as if trying to tamp down everything that’s bubbling up inside.] But all… taunts… aside, [Sylus adds, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth,] this is still your choice.
[His grip on Ross’s hand softens, his fingers loosening just enough to give him a way out if he wants it.] I happen to be in a very giving mood, [he says softly, his eyes gleaming with the same intensity as before, but there’s a thread of gentleness now, a willingness to let Ross lead.]
You can choose, [Sylus continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and quiet in the stillness between them.] If you want to receive what I’m offering… if you want to take what I want to give.