[Yes, Lorenz thinks, reveling in the sweet, sweet timbre of Fenris' voice even now, as he unravels just a bit already— Yes, like that. Like that and then some, so much that Fenris is bursting with it, and even that will not be precisely enough to encompass it all. If love is a drop of water then what he feels for Fenris is an ocean, and, ah— something, something, a boat?
Well, ocean metaphors are his worst, but Lorenz knows this: Fenris leans down to kiss him and he swears, he swears he can taste every I love you against his lips, warm and sweet. He lingers there a moment, one more quick kiss pressed to Fenris' lips before he moves again, and oh—]
What did I say about strenuous activity...?
[Absolutely nothing worthwhile, clearly— And now his fingers make their way into Fenris' hair, curling and uncurling with languid delight and no intention of truly stopping him. No, it's quite obvious that they're both feeling, ah, needy; Lorenz feels like he's on fire in the best way, a smolder that sparks with each pink scratch Fenris leaves against his skin.
It's a lot, to put it mildly. The comfort of knowing love heightened to the dizzying freedom of saying it, of hearing this beautiful man so precious and dear to him say it over and over, is quite a lot. Lorenz handles it with a fresh flush of heat, color inching down to his not quite bare shoulders, looking more pleasantly disheveled than ever.]
Fenris.
[Goddess, but if he isn't a sight to behold like this, all dark eyes and hungry mouth, Lorenz's shirt riding up as he moves down— Lorenz bites his lip and sucks in a breath from the sensation, one hand reaching for Fenris' to tangle their fingers together. He could start begging right now? That sounds doable, but—]
Tell me more of it— other things. What suits you, Fenris.
[Lorenz is adding Fenris talking about fantasies to his own list, effective immediately. It's subtle.]
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Well, ocean metaphors are his worst, but Lorenz knows this: Fenris leans down to kiss him and he swears, he swears he can taste every I love you against his lips, warm and sweet. He lingers there a moment, one more quick kiss pressed to Fenris' lips before he moves again, and oh—]
What did I say about strenuous activity...?
[Absolutely nothing worthwhile, clearly— And now his fingers make their way into Fenris' hair, curling and uncurling with languid delight and no intention of truly stopping him. No, it's quite obvious that they're both feeling, ah, needy; Lorenz feels like he's on fire in the best way, a smolder that sparks with each pink scratch Fenris leaves against his skin.
It's a lot, to put it mildly. The comfort of knowing love heightened to the dizzying freedom of saying it, of hearing this beautiful man so precious and dear to him say it over and over, is quite a lot. Lorenz handles it with a fresh flush of heat, color inching down to his not quite bare shoulders, looking more pleasantly disheveled than ever.]
Fenris.
[Goddess, but if he isn't a sight to behold like this, all dark eyes and hungry mouth, Lorenz's shirt riding up as he moves down— Lorenz bites his lip and sucks in a breath from the sensation, one hand reaching for Fenris' to tangle their fingers together. He could start begging right now? That sounds doable, but—]
Tell me more of it— other things. What suits you, Fenris.
[Lorenz is adding Fenris talking about fantasies to his own list, effective immediately. It's subtle.]