[That sheepishness only lasts for a moment, in the end, chased away by the way Choso looks at him, kept at bay by how immediately he reaches for him. With a faint chuckle Palamedes says, murmured,] Oh, do you, [like it's a little joke between them, and not about his arm. Like Choso's desire to get his hands on him, and Palamedes' matching desire to feel it, were not obvious guarantees here.
Brushed away, Palamedes' hand finds its way into Choso's hair, a loose grip curling into it that somehow doesn't betray the tension in the rest of his body, watching Choso undress him— more or less. Undressed in the way that matters, at least, which is enough. It's the rest of him that feels that tension, a string pulled taut that makes the whole of him twitch slightly in electric surprise when Choso closes in on him. The quiet tenderness of it all remains, but oh!— so much skin against skin, all at once.
He says,] Hey, now, [because he was busy down there, as it were, but it's not even a convincing faux-objection, too warm and fond. He curls his fingers tighter into Choso's hair, hips pressing into the movement of his fingers. He's no more experienced than Choso beyond with his own hands, so even this much- Choso's hands on him, his mouth, the gravitational pull of his eager affection- is enough to dazzle Palamedes. He wants and wants and he's never known how to want holding still, to be, hm, provided for, so he slides one of his tentacle limbs, then another, up from Choso's thigh to brush over the length of him, just barely circling his tip.
It's just that it doesn't hurt to ask, right, even if Choso has been pretty readily accepting of his new limbs so far, so,] Is that alright?
no subject
Brushed away, Palamedes' hand finds its way into Choso's hair, a loose grip curling into it that somehow doesn't betray the tension in the rest of his body, watching Choso undress him— more or less. Undressed in the way that matters, at least, which is enough. It's the rest of him that feels that tension, a string pulled taut that makes the whole of him twitch slightly in electric surprise when Choso closes in on him. The quiet tenderness of it all remains, but oh!— so much skin against skin, all at once.
He says,] Hey, now, [because he was busy down there, as it were, but it's not even a convincing faux-objection, too warm and fond. He curls his fingers tighter into Choso's hair, hips pressing into the movement of his fingers. He's no more experienced than Choso beyond with his own hands, so even this much- Choso's hands on him, his mouth, the gravitational pull of his eager affection- is enough to dazzle Palamedes. He wants and wants and he's never known how to want holding still, to be, hm, provided for, so he slides one of his tentacle limbs, then another, up from Choso's thigh to brush over the length of him, just barely circling his tip.
It's just that it doesn't hurt to ask, right, even if Choso has been pretty readily accepting of his new limbs so far, so,] Is that alright?