[ It's something Lucius has wondered about in idle passing before: if Eridanus would enjoy having his hands around Lucius' throat as much of the reverse. But, even as Lucius tips his chin up in Eridanus' grasp as if inviting him to wring his neck, he can see that this isn't the kind of thought running through his mind. A shiver of danger ghosts across his skin, and he wonders if Eridanus finally intends to put all that superior strength to use in a way he can't resist.
The thought is like poisoned wine: it sits bitter in his mouth, and yet he cannot stop drinking of it, letting its flavor pour down his throat until it floods his flesh down to the tips of his fingers and toes. It tempts him to struggle, simply to know how it feels to be powerless and overpowered by a man he scarcely reaches the chin ofβbut then Eridanus pulls him up to crush their mouths together, and Lucius can't help the noise that escapes him, a low, amused whine lost among the sounds of heated breath and lips drawing at slick lips. His own hands come up, and suddenly, he is irritated with all this cloth Eridanus is wearing, no flesh left bare for Lucius and his claws to tear into in his passion.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it glistening on his lips, when their mouths hitch apart again. His spiny, catlike tongue runs across his lips to clean them, and it's as good a way as any to hide that he isn't quite sure what kind of expression he should be making at first. Tearful eyes, like that strange breakdown in their shared dream, aren't something it has been Lucius' responsibility to deal with very often, and particularly not from a man he realizes he has foolishly begun to think of as something of a peer. ]
And what have you done, dear Eridanus? [ The end result is a bemused expression on Lucius' face, his eyebrows arched in confusion that isn't wholly dishonest. His fingers come up, gently pressing themselves over Eridanus' lips so he may speak without interruption. ] You never made the choice to part with your wife β she threw you out, over something that made no difference to your love for her.
I cannot believe I am using this icon... lol...
The thought is like poisoned wine: it sits bitter in his mouth, and yet he cannot stop drinking of it, letting its flavor pour down his throat until it floods his flesh down to the tips of his fingers and toes. It tempts him to struggle, simply to know how it feels to be powerless and overpowered by a man he scarcely reaches the chin ofβbut then Eridanus pulls him up to crush their mouths together, and Lucius can't help the noise that escapes him, a low, amused whine lost among the sounds of heated breath and lips drawing at slick lips. His own hands come up, and suddenly, he is irritated with all this cloth Eridanus is wearing, no flesh left bare for Lucius and his claws to tear into in his passion.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it glistening on his lips, when their mouths hitch apart again. His spiny, catlike tongue runs across his lips to clean them, and it's as good a way as any to hide that he isn't quite sure what kind of expression he should be making at first. Tearful eyes, like that strange breakdown in their shared dream, aren't something it has been Lucius' responsibility to deal with very often, and particularly not from a man he realizes he has foolishly begun to think of as something of a peer. ]
And what have you done, dear Eridanus? [ The end result is a bemused expression on Lucius' face, his eyebrows arched in confusion that isn't wholly dishonest. His fingers come up, gently pressing themselves over Eridanus' lips so he may speak without interruption. ] You never made the choice to part with your wife β she threw you out, over something that made no difference to your love for her.