[To onlookers the pair are intimately close, Charlie leaning down over Fuuta to listen to his stammered, uncertain responses while the boy's hands tangle in his clothing. To him, there's a chill - distance - unpleasantly lingering between them. Brought to stark attention by the quickly cooling splotch of spit on his shirt, Fuuta's mouth is sorely missed.
So when he demands a kiss, Charlie's smile sharpens. There's a hum, soft and satisfied, in his throat as his Adam's apple bobs in a dry swallow. He'll indulge without hesitation, the dim reminder that Fuuta's blood would taste better than his drool tucked away from his mind.]
Sure... [He wonders if Fuuta will have the sense to demand that Charlie owes him for the pleasure, but that curiosity only leaves his shoulders shrugging - duly amused - as he presses his lips into Fuuta's. The connection is anything but chaste.
Charlie's quick to open his mouth, dragging hot, slick flesh beneath between his lips. He leaves his own spit beneath, no care spared to make this an idyllic tease or romantic affection. He's greedy, just like last time, tongue pressing into Fuuta's mouth to brush along the boy's.
It's so fucking warm, the acrid bite of lingering liquor hardly occurs to him as he shifts farther into his partner. Charlie perches his knee on the bench to Fuuta's side and presses his hand to the boy's collar bone to steady himself. That he can feel searing blood pump from Fuuta's chest beneath his palm is a bonus.
Intoxicatingly so.
He groans, a sound someone more within their senses could identify as want, the vibration in his throat captured in their mouths.]
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So when he demands a kiss, Charlie's smile sharpens. There's a hum, soft and satisfied, in his throat as his Adam's apple bobs in a dry swallow. He'll indulge without hesitation, the dim reminder that Fuuta's blood would taste better than his drool tucked away from his mind.]
Sure... [He wonders if Fuuta will have the sense to demand that Charlie owes him for the pleasure, but that curiosity only leaves his shoulders shrugging - duly amused - as he presses his lips into Fuuta's. The connection is anything but chaste.
Charlie's quick to open his mouth, dragging hot, slick flesh beneath between his lips. He leaves his own spit beneath, no care spared to make this an idyllic tease or romantic affection. He's greedy, just like last time, tongue pressing into Fuuta's mouth to brush along the boy's.
It's so fucking warm, the acrid bite of lingering liquor hardly occurs to him as he shifts farther into his partner. Charlie perches his knee on the bench to Fuuta's side and presses his hand to the boy's collar bone to steady himself. That he can feel searing blood pump from Fuuta's chest beneath his palm is a bonus.
Intoxicatingly so.
He groans, a sound someone more within their senses could identify as want, the vibration in his throat captured in their mouths.]