[Orym's breath catches at the feeling of those lips at his chest, half from the sensation of it and half from the way his heart leaps in his chest at it. Again he wrestles with feelings, with the words he knows he can't say that want to spill from his lips. I love you, you know. I'm yours, if you want me, if you say the word, however you want me. A partner, a lover, a dirty little secret.
He swallows them back, hands rising up to cup at Dorian's face, so he can look at him.]
Not like yours, not anywhere near as handsome.
[And part of that is the kindness, the shy uncertainty and earnest, gentle soul he's discovered in the other man.]
no subject
He swallows them back, hands rising up to cup at Dorian's face, so he can look at him.]
Not like yours, not anywhere near as handsome.
[And part of that is the kindness, the shy uncertainty and earnest, gentle soul he's discovered in the other man.]