hotproblems | 🌹🌹🌹

[Of course he will. The checking on the injury is indulgence, but taking things slow suits him right now. Fenris shifts, letting the shirt ride up, closing his eyes as he feels chilly fingers brush against his skin.]

Fine. Truly, it does.

[He's not just being tough. Really, it does ache, and certainly he ought to keep his movements to a minimum, but it's far from the worst thing he's ever endured. His own hands keep roaming, though sooner or later he ends up at Lorenz's hips, thumbing fondly at the curve there.]

You . . . thank you.

[He pulls back, catching Lorenz's eye with a faint smile.]

For all of this. For caring. For-- [for loving me, which is not what one ought to think in the face of love, but it's true, it makes him so happy he wants to thank Lorenz for the joy of it,] --for being here, with me, like this. It means more than I can say.

[His hand lingers there a moment, noting the way the skin around the injury is that much warmer than the rest of him, no doubt irritated from all the squirming as well as the stitches themselves. He'll fret over it more, inevitably, but he trusts Fenris to be frank about his literal stab wound and so after a moment he brings that hand up to cup his cheek instead, the worry in his expression giving way to fondness.]

I will always care for you. How could I possibly not?

[His other hand slides over Fenris' stomach while he considers his itemized list of reasons Fenris is Good, but perhaps in the interest of brevity:]

You are passionate, and strong, and I would be a fool to adore you any less than I do right now.

[Honestly he could spend the next hour on this, maybe jot it down for another poem, but perhaps that can wait until later. He is still wearing these pants, notably, and hastily lets go of Fenris to undo them enough to slip down off his hips. Not strenuous, doing great.]

So! I have carried you out here, as requested. Do you have another?

[That request might have honestly been for something more domestic, but if Lorenz is tugging at his trousers, Fenris is hardly going to argue. One foot lifts, tugging at his pants, furthering the job Lorenz had begun until he's confident they'll fall on their own.]

Hmm . . .

[He tips his head into the touch, smiling faintly.]

I would get to my knees for you, just to be sure your thighs are as bitten up as your neck, and never mind what might come after. I like watching you the next day, when you have to take pains not to press down on them and distract yourself from whatever we're doing.

Release me, then, so I may do so. That is my request.

[Why must good men be read for filth in the comfort of their own kitchens, or:]

Well, I have never been accused of subtlety, as such...

[What a day it will be when every single emotion Lorenz has ever felt in his life doesn't show all over his face and in every little movement he makes! That day is not tomorrow, with its inevitable markings, and that day is not today either; he flushes lightly and gives Fenris' cheek an amused pat before lifting both hands with a bit more show than necessary. He's listening to requests the first time, now, that's the point.

And once Fenris' legs release him, he'll be free to step back and leave his pants out of the way with his belt.]

Your attention to detail is admirable, regardless. Quite remarkable.

Do not be so free with your praise. I have selfish motivations.

[He's swift in the way he slips off the counter, moving quick enough that Lorenz hardly has time to get too far away. Taking him by the hips, he leans up to mouth at his jaw, against his pulsepoint, nipping just to hear Lorenz's breath catch. And all the while walking him backwards, til his back hits the wall.

Just in case. It's sturdier to lean against than the counter, that's all.

He sinks to his knees, his hands automatically reaching for Lorenz's legs. There's a lot to like about Lorenz, Fenris had long ago realized, but his legs are particularly good. His hands slide up his thighs, quietly delighted by the curve of muscle beneath his fingertips.]

Left or right?

[Let him be a little insufferable. As a treat.]

[Lorenz hums, whatever comment he might have made on motivations or whatever else forgotten in the warmth of Fenris' mouth and the way he seems to forget just how big the kitchen is, letting out a short noise of surprise when he bumps into the wall. This was here? Who knew. It's the easiest thing in the world to get wrapped up in them, together, even in the seconds it takes Fenris to back him up to the wall.

Honestly, who could blame him? He shifts his thighs that much further apart and chuckles, nudging Fenris' leg with his foot. Sass, darling? Please.]

Left. You favor the right. The left should have a fair and equitable shot.

[These gams are a work of art, after all, etc. He knows.]

A grave oversight.

[The left, then, his own legs spreading a little as he nudges Lorenz's further apart. He starts at the inside of his knee: a gentle kiss, nosing lightly, and then another, slightly higher. It's slow-going, but that suits this lazily affectionate mood. An indulgence, yes, but more than that: a quiet celebration of what's to come. Ours, he thinks again, and nips lightly at the inside of Lorenz's thigh, humming as he does.

That lasts for an entire minute, which is pretty good for him when Sanguis time is here. Then he's guiding Lorenz's leg up, gently setting it over his shoulder. His bites are firmer now, his teeth sinking in a little deeper, things that sting. He'll feel this tomorrow, Fenris is determined. His eyes dart up, just so he can watch every flicker in his expression, see how much more flushed he can get.]

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oh that icon is cute

the sole soft icon

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