[That noise of surprise, the moan that follows, both noises will be drunken down as greedily as if that bite actually had been to feed from him. Perhaps it had, if his need to spark intense reactions from others could be said to count. The taste of blood in his mouth, too, is just an extra treat in the moment.
And then Eli pulls away.
Without the strict need to breathe, Celeste isn't directly mirroring the excitement from Eli, but it shows on him, too, in other, subtler ways. There's an intensity in his eyes, almost predatory in the way his gaze flicks over Eli's body, in how he watches his chest heave, how his mouth moves when he sucks on his own tongue. There's a shamelessness, too, in how comfortable he is in how disheveled he is under him, hair tousled a little less perfectly than it had been, makeup smudged, eyes half-lidded. And there's a mischievousness in the slight curl of his lips when the suggestion comes that they leave.
There's no protest. Of course there's no protest. But he had heard those muffled noises, and his hand is terribly, dangerously, temptingly close. Too close to simply do nothing.
So he uses that tight grip to hold Eli in place while he gives in to the temptation to roll his hips up against him. He could sit up at the same time, use that as a pretense for the action. He doesn't. He waits instead, watching Eli's expression sharply.
And then he removes his hands from him entirely - though not without dragging fingertips feather-light over his groin. Ostensibly it's to allow him to get up. They both know that's not quite true.]
After you~
[Now, now, they have a temple to worship at, surely.]
no subject
And then Eli pulls away.
Without the strict need to breathe, Celeste isn't directly mirroring the excitement from Eli, but it shows on him, too, in other, subtler ways. There's an intensity in his eyes, almost predatory in the way his gaze flicks over Eli's body, in how he watches his chest heave, how his mouth moves when he sucks on his own tongue. There's a shamelessness, too, in how comfortable he is in how disheveled he is under him, hair tousled a little less perfectly than it had been, makeup smudged, eyes half-lidded. And there's a mischievousness in the slight curl of his lips when the suggestion comes that they leave.
There's no protest. Of course there's no protest. But he had heard those muffled noises, and his hand is terribly, dangerously, temptingly close. Too close to simply do nothing.
So he uses that tight grip to hold Eli in place while he gives in to the temptation to roll his hips up against him. He could sit up at the same time, use that as a pretense for the action. He doesn't. He waits instead, watching Eli's expression sharply.
And then he removes his hands from him entirely - though not without dragging fingertips feather-light over his groin. Ostensibly it's to allow him to get up. They both know that's not quite true.]
After you~
[Now, now, they have a temple to worship at, surely.]