[ 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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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.
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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. ]