this startles him - therion could poof up like a cat, actually, eyes snapping wide in surprise. but after a beat, he catches back up, mouth pulling up into a little smirk, briefly as he regains his footing and his mental balance, and he doesn't shove him back. no, the hand on his face is warm, warm and calloused and familiar, and...
...no, instead, he returns the kiss, hand fisting briefly in the front of alfyn's stupid shirt, and then pulls back - red in the ears, enough you could see it through his white hair, but you couldn't tell by his face. his hand stays there, curled.
there's a beat.
and then he kisses him again? alright fuck it if that's how we're gonna play fuck it we ball. therion mutters, though - ] If you fuck up this shirt, I'm not finding you another one.
[ a small part of alfyn thinks a little thought of y'know, therion could deck me, and i wouldn't be surprised, the moment he pulls back. the grip on his shirt could either be in preparation to push him away, or to hold him there. the smirk doesn't really do much to clear things up. therion smirks sometimes regardless of mood.
but as he hesitantly peeks an eye open at him, the second one flies open after. because he sees red, a blush, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from abruptly breaking out into a stupid grin that's half delight, half victory. it'd ruin the following kiss, anyways, which he readily returns with the almost palpable essence of a tail wagging.
or pumping his fist.
murmured, against his mouth in return: ] Yeah, okay.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
this startles him - therion could poof up like a cat, actually, eyes snapping wide in surprise. but after a beat, he catches back up, mouth pulling up into a little smirk, briefly as he regains his footing and his mental balance, and he doesn't shove him back. no, the hand on his face is warm, warm and calloused and familiar, and...
...no, instead, he returns the kiss, hand fisting briefly in the front of alfyn's stupid shirt, and then pulls back - red in the ears, enough you could see it through his white hair, but you couldn't tell by his face. his hand stays there, curled.
there's a beat.
and then he kisses him again? alright fuck it if that's how we're gonna play fuck it we ball. therion mutters, though - ] If you fuck up this shirt, I'm not finding you another one.
no subject
but as he hesitantly peeks an eye open at him, the second one flies open after. because he sees red, a blush, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from abruptly breaking out into a stupid grin that's half delight, half victory. it'd ruin the following kiss, anyways, which he readily returns with the almost palpable essence of a tail wagging.
or pumping his fist.
murmured, against his mouth in return: ] Yeah, okay.
[ shirt what shirt ]