S—[Whether or not Fenris almost said it again because Rafe "told him to" or because he was about to give a sorry for his sorry isn't important.]
[He tries not to focus on his newest realization (thanks partner) and how embarrassing it is that every surface is covered in shiny parts and bottles, which seems to be his favorite, leaving no usable surface. Luckily Rafe doesn't stretch out this moment and settles for the floor to place his laptop.
His heart beats heavy again at that look. Whatever look it is. Is he reconsidering? Is he realizing that putting up with Fenris's everything on top of being touched by such a creature has zero benefits? Fenris can barely pay attention to what Rafe is saying, lost in his own dark cloud of thoughts, before he's being yanked down into another kiss.
Oh.
Okay.
Good, good.
Even if he hadn't heard Rafe just now he still tries to be mindful of his fangs. He still gets them caught against the inside of his lips, against his tongue, but as long as he's not cutting Rafe then he doesn't care. His arm yet again reclaims its possessive hold around Rafe's waist, soon joined by the other one, just above the gauntlets his partner now wears at his waist. The gauntlets that were once his, part of him, now part of Rafe — not in the same way, of course. They hold history for Fenris; they clawed at many faces, reached into many chests, and crushed many hearts. But the thought that they were now to be worn by Rafe to gather its own bit of history with him...something that bridges a connection between the two that Fenris has been feeling for a while now.
A connection that's been making Fenris want to just...take him. Keep him away from everyone else. He knows it's crazy. He knows not to act on these strong impulses. But the feelings grow stronger each day. The more he changes.
Even the way Fenris's tongue dances and wraps around Rafe's is like he's laying claim to him. He's not. He knows he's not. Rafe isn't his. But he wants him to be.
His clawed grip around Rafe grows more firm, shifting to press him against the nearest wall — which happens to be a bit too close to yet another table. Bottles clatter to the floor but Fenris doesn't care about them right now.]
Re: cw: body dysmorphia, implications of sexual abuse, slavery and physical abuse
[He tries not to focus on his newest realization (thanks partner) and how embarrassing it is that every surface is covered in shiny parts and bottles, which seems to be his favorite, leaving no usable surface. Luckily Rafe doesn't stretch out this moment and settles for the floor to place his laptop.
His heart beats heavy again at that look. Whatever look it is. Is he reconsidering? Is he realizing that putting up with Fenris's everything on top of being touched by such a creature has zero benefits? Fenris can barely pay attention to what Rafe is saying, lost in his own dark cloud of thoughts, before he's being yanked down into another kiss.
Oh.
Okay.
Good, good.
Even if he hadn't heard Rafe just now he still tries to be mindful of his fangs. He still gets them caught against the inside of his lips, against his tongue, but as long as he's not cutting Rafe then he doesn't care. His arm yet again reclaims its possessive hold around Rafe's waist, soon joined by the other one, just above the gauntlets his partner now wears at his waist. The gauntlets that were once his, part of him, now part of Rafe — not in the same way, of course. They hold history for Fenris; they clawed at many faces, reached into many chests, and crushed many hearts. But the thought that they were now to be worn by Rafe to gather its own bit of history with him...something that bridges a connection between the two that Fenris has been feeling for a while now.
A connection that's been making Fenris want to just...take him. Keep him away from everyone else. He knows it's crazy. He knows not to act on these strong impulses. But the feelings grow stronger each day. The more he changes.
Even the way Fenris's tongue dances and wraps around Rafe's is like he's laying claim to him. He's not. He knows he's not. Rafe isn't his. But he wants him to be.
His clawed grip around Rafe grows more firm, shifting to press him against the nearest wall — which happens to be a bit too close to yet another table. Bottles clatter to the floor but Fenris doesn't care about them right now.]