[ There is a soft, pleased sigh against Phainon as their kisses deepen and as he feels Phainon begin to touch his body. His arms move to loop around Phainon's neck, one hand sinking into his hair as he lets the two of them continue to kiss. And as he feels Phainon's hand up the back of his shirt, around to his stomach, Sunday's gut clenches in anticipation and he moans softly. Yes, yes, he wants more.
When he breaks apart from the kiss, he lingers in Phainon's space, bold now due to his experiences with Hythlodaeus. ]
Phainon... [ Murmured gently against his lips. ] I want more.
[ They'll need lube, he thinks distantly. It's over in the drawer by the bed, which means they'll need to move from the couch. But they'll get there, he thinks. He's confident. ]
[ More, Sunday asks, and Phainon wants to give it to him, wants to let this man have all the things that he desires.
Pushing himself up, he steals another kiss, long and slow, tongue searching for more of the taste of him as he devours, letting his desire take over him. It would be easy to let his hands search and explore, push clothes out of the way, to let his mouth search out the areas on the other man that please him the most, and he groans into the kiss as all of those thoughts settle in his head.
Desperate, and wanting, he leans back, nodding, eyes dark. ]
[ Sunday nods, happy to obey. Phainon's touch and kisses have been near intoxicating and being able to just deliver to Phainon what he wants, what he asks for, that is something Sunday is more than happy to do. So, his hands pull back from Phainon's body as he sits back a bit to drop his hands to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his shirt from bottom to top, letting Phainon watch the whole time.
And then the shirt is dropped back to the floor, leaving him shirtless on top of Phainon's lap, and he breathes a little roughly against him. ]
[ It's almost a strange role reversal, being the one to give instructions, to give commands. Phainon has grown used to other people telling him what to do, so there's something exciting about telling Sunday what he wants and seeing it just... Happen.
As soon as his chest is bared, Phainon is leaning in, nuzzling against his neck. His mouth trails down, and he bites at his collarbone gently, testing the waters. Some people enjoy the burn of teeth, other people do not, and he is waiting to see how Sunday reacts before he does anything too harsh.
At the same time, one of his hands rises, thumbing over his nipple gently. ]
[ There is a hitched breath and a fond sigh at the teeth biting gently at him. He's not one for pain but the slight sting of the bite is pleasurable in its own way. If it was harsher than that, Sunday might not enjoy it. For now, he slides one of his hands back into Phainon's hair, the other gripping his shoulder. ]
So are you...
[ Quiet, sincere. He shivers a little at the brush to his nipple and wants eagerly to pull Phainon in, to roll around with him a bit as they kiss and kiss and kiss. But he likes this, letting Phainon take the lead and tell him what he wants, so he'll wait for now to play to his desires. ]
[ He means it teasingly, though, not in a serious way, knowing that he is pretty enough. Phainon has been called it by people here a few times, and he recognises that he has handsome features and good looks; it's worked in his favour before. It'll probably continue to work in his favour.
The shiver is encouraging, and Phainon hums, nails scraping over the skin of his waist as he holds Sunday in place. His tongue flicks gently over his collarbone before Phainon gives in to the urge, lowering his mouth to a nipple and scraping his teeth, then biting around it, not hard enough to be painful but enough, he hopes, to be alluring. To inspire want and desire, and make this man feel good. ]
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no subject
When he breaks apart from the kiss, he lingers in Phainon's space, bold now due to his experiences with Hythlodaeus. ]
Phainon... [ Murmured gently against his lips. ] I want more.
[ They'll need lube, he thinks distantly. It's over in the drawer by the bed, which means they'll need to move from the couch. But they'll get there, he thinks. He's confident. ]
no subject
Pushing himself up, he steals another kiss, long and slow, tongue searching for more of the taste of him as he devours, letting his desire take over him. It would be easy to let his hands search and explore, push clothes out of the way, to let his mouth search out the areas on the other man that please him the most, and he groans into the kiss as all of those thoughts settle in his head.
Desperate, and wanting, he leans back, nodding, eyes dark. ]
Take your shirt off, Sunday. I want to see you.
no subject
And then the shirt is dropped back to the floor, leaving him shirtless on top of Phainon's lap, and he breathes a little roughly against him. ]
Is that good?
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As soon as his chest is bared, Phainon is leaning in, nuzzling against his neck. His mouth trails down, and he bites at his collarbone gently, testing the waters. Some people enjoy the burn of teeth, other people do not, and he is waiting to see how Sunday reacts before he does anything too harsh.
At the same time, one of his hands rises, thumbing over his nipple gently. ]
It's good. You're beautiful.
no subject
So are you...
[ Quiet, sincere. He shivers a little at the brush to his nipple and wants eagerly to pull Phainon in, to roll around with him a bit as they kiss and kiss and kiss. But he likes this, letting Phainon take the lead and tell him what he wants, so he'll wait for now to play to his desires. ]
no subject
[ He means it teasingly, though, not in a serious way, knowing that he is pretty enough. Phainon has been called it by people here a few times, and he recognises that he has handsome features and good looks; it's worked in his favour before. It'll probably continue to work in his favour.
The shiver is encouraging, and Phainon hums, nails scraping over the skin of his waist as he holds Sunday in place. His tongue flicks gently over his collarbone before Phainon gives in to the urge, lowering his mouth to a nipple and scraping his teeth, then biting around it, not hard enough to be painful but enough, he hopes, to be alluring. To inspire want and desire, and make this man feel good. ]