[More protests, but this time they come from nearly trembling lips. Charlie watches Fuuta's body as he talks, his actual words paper-thin and easy to shirk by. There's not even any vitriol behind them anymore; a bit of a shame, he thinks...
But the way Fuuta works his mouth makes up for any delight lost in the tone of his voice. Charlie stares as his lips press together, then shudder. He curls his own inwards, pressing teeth into folding flesh as he considers...
Would he be able to eat tonight, too?
Would his 'food' be laced with the same shit Fuuta has injested, or would he just come away with the usual pleasant dull tingle a cocktail leaves?
Charlie's lips part, but he pauses before he speaks. Beneath the table, his shoe continues to caress Fuuta's calf after a notable lack of protest.]
What's wrong? Don't like how it tastes?
Do you want something else? [He voices the thought in Fuuta's head because its obvious what the boy wants. Even without all that squirming and color on his face - Charlie knows what the drinks do here.]
no subject
But the way Fuuta works his mouth makes up for any delight lost in the tone of his voice. Charlie stares as his lips press together, then shudder. He curls his own inwards, pressing teeth into folding flesh as he considers...
Would he be able to eat tonight, too?
Would his 'food' be laced with the same shit Fuuta has injested, or would he just come away with the usual pleasant dull tingle a cocktail leaves?
Charlie's lips part, but he pauses before he speaks. Beneath the table, his shoe continues to caress Fuuta's calf after a notable lack of protest.]
What's wrong? Don't like how it tastes?
Do you want something else? [He voices the thought in Fuuta's head because its obvious what the boy wants. Even without all that squirming and color on his face - Charlie knows what the drinks do here.]