[Alright— all things considered, "I can be your little secret" was not the first thing Lorenz expected in return for his hasty explanation of The Expectations of the Peerage. His immediate reaction is manifold: there's the prissy noble part of him that would squawk indignantly about how he, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! would not have little secrets; that part is buffeted by the part of him that finds it rather thrilling to hear that, actually; and both of those fizzle out, momentarily forgotten in the rush of being embraced again.
He'll loop back around. In a bit. A fresh flush of heat blooms in his cheeks but he melts into it all the same, curling his fingers into Wriothesley's hair and letting him deepen the kiss as he pleases. Would that all things were as plainly enjoyable as this, warm mouth and the press of hands, almost dizzying in how quickly they keep going between this and conversation. From the enraptured little groan that escapes him, one could even assume Lorenz has forgotten about the, mm, topic at hand.
He hasn't. But in the space he takes to breathe he glances down at the dice, then back up at Wriothesley, does one hasty pursed-lips mental calculation and then ducks back in for another kiss. There's more heat behind it than before, as if now he's added breaking the rules of this dice game to his list of things to overthink (he may have done this exactly). Ah, is this the elusive "more fun"...
Murmured, then, separating only far enough to speak against his lips,] I do appreciate your discretion. But even so, I'm hardly the sole arbiter of... this. You needn't worry that much about placating me.
[Or: surely this exchange needn't revolve around his anxieties. Ahem.]
@armwriostle
[Alright— all things considered, "I can be your little secret" was not the first thing Lorenz expected in return for his hasty explanation of The Expectations of the Peerage. His immediate reaction is manifold: there's the prissy noble part of him that would squawk indignantly about how he, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! would not have little secrets; that part is buffeted by the part of him that finds it rather thrilling to hear that, actually; and both of those fizzle out, momentarily forgotten in the rush of being embraced again.
He'll loop back around. In a bit. A fresh flush of heat blooms in his cheeks but he melts into it all the same, curling his fingers into Wriothesley's hair and letting him deepen the kiss as he pleases. Would that all things were as plainly enjoyable as this, warm mouth and the press of hands, almost dizzying in how quickly they keep going between this and conversation. From the enraptured little groan that escapes him, one could even assume Lorenz has forgotten about the, mm, topic at hand.
He hasn't. But in the space he takes to breathe he glances down at the dice, then back up at Wriothesley, does one hasty pursed-lips mental calculation and then ducks back in for another kiss. There's more heat behind it than before, as if now he's added breaking the rules of this dice game to his list of things to overthink (he may have done this exactly). Ah, is this the elusive "more fun"...
Murmured, then, separating only far enough to speak against his lips,] I do appreciate your discretion. But even so, I'm hardly the sole arbiter of... this. You needn't worry that much about placating me.
[Or: surely this exchange needn't revolve around his anxieties. Ahem.]