[Diluc's touch builds fire under his skin, leaving a blazing trail that begins to kindle desire within him. Kazuha wonders if he’ll leave this house singed, if the man will burn a mark into his heart. He’s already started; he can feel the warm ache in his chest, the flames stroked by gentle kisses and wanting hands.
The samurai breathes a heavy sigh against Diluc’s mouth, so warm like the rest of him where he could get lost in the comfort of it, his frame trembling as fingers find blade scars, some dotted with the evidence of crude stitches. Even being tipped onto his back is gentle, and while Kazuha doesn’t often find himself on his back with a partner, he finds he doesn’t quite mind.
Heat and tension rush between his legs, the muscle of his leg twitching beneath Diluc’s touch, just shy of being ticklish, but not wanting to pull away.]
Then surely you can count on me to tell you when I want to stop.
[As small as he knows he is, he knows people have the assumption he might be demure and passive; he does not assume Diluc thinks this of him, but he would not let the thought cross his mind anyway. He knows what he wants, what he’s comfortable with.
He leans back in, pressing a kiss to Diluc’s jaw as he reaches for his shirt. He presses another as he undoes the first closed button he finds, then the second, giving him enough space to slip a small hand inside and smooth over his chest.]
no subject
The samurai breathes a heavy sigh against Diluc’s mouth, so warm like the rest of him where he could get lost in the comfort of it, his frame trembling as fingers find blade scars, some dotted with the evidence of crude stitches. Even being tipped onto his back is gentle, and while Kazuha doesn’t often find himself on his back with a partner, he finds he doesn’t quite mind.
Heat and tension rush between his legs, the muscle of his leg twitching beneath Diluc’s touch, just shy of being ticklish, but not wanting to pull away.]
Then surely you can count on me to tell you when I want to stop.
[As small as he knows he is, he knows people have the assumption he might be demure and passive; he does not assume Diluc thinks this of him, but he would not let the thought cross his mind anyway. He knows what he wants, what he’s comfortable with.
He leans back in, pressing a kiss to Diluc’s jaw as he reaches for his shirt. He presses another as he undoes the first closed button he finds, then the second, giving him enough space to slip a small hand inside and smooth over his chest.]