Ah. I don't usually...that is, I tried to rise to meet you. As it were.
[He clears his throat again, fully aware that he's essentially said nothing with that remark, but having to sort of get his head around his meaning before he can actually push the words out.]
I don't go into an encounter expecting obedience. My aim was to please you.
[He lets out a slow breath, his head falling comfortably to one side.]
I enjoyed it, too, make no mistake. But I wouldn't...demand that. Had you not set the pace first.
[Hm. Does that mean Edgeworth is someone who needs approval, or to be desired? It's something he didn't stop to consider before. Maybe that's his fault for getting in so deep with all of the attention he was being given.]
That's fair.
[His hand roams up to Edgeworth's shoulder before stroking down his side to the hip again.]
Just-- you know. If there's something you prefer, you can tell me that.
[His eyes fall half-closed as he basks in the — petting, almost. Lazy, languid touches that feel just right against his sensitive nerves, steady enough that he doesn't need to keep his eyes open in order to track them because the movements are predictable.]
It's not easily given. Certainly not anything I would insist upon out of a casual encounter.
[He seems to drift a minute, wavering, but then regroups and just takes the risk.]
I barely even know how to put it into words. Just — to be wanted. To not be...interchangeable with anyone else. As I said, that's too much to ask of anyone, but. It's a nice thought.
[And it's exactly what he thought it might be. How Edgeworth is instinctively seeking approval, to be desired. It's a curious thing, and the first thing he thinks of is who wouldn't want him? Well, clearly, that line of thinking has come from somewhere, before Caesar and Edgeworth's colleague alike both disappeared. It runs deeper.
He brushes hair from Edgeworth's face.]
I'll give whatever I've got. But trust me when I say that wanting you isn't a problem here.
[The words don't give away much, and the tone doesn't, either; the way he moves so eagerly, almost pleadingly, into the fingers that drift across his face is what offers up all the confirmation Abbacchio could ever need, and more.
Yes. Yes, please. Want me.
But then, tiredly, he chuckles a little.]
There's a sink across the hall, if you'd like to wash your face first.
[There's a brief, warm look in Abbacchio's eyes as he looks at Edgeworth, then he finally pulls away.]
I'll be back.
[He sits up, making quick work of himself with the sink across the way. For a brief moment, he has a look at himself, which is an absolute fucking mess. Dried cum, smeared makeup, and sweat.
Yeah, that'd definitely been a good time.
Abbacchio washes off his face, rubbing off his lipstick as well since it's kind of a disaster anyway. Upon returning, he's getting back to bed, then pauses before he's holding an arm up in invitation.]
[He only lies still a minute, after Abbacchio heads across the hall; then, a little reluctantly, Edgeworth makes himself get up and at the very least, sort out the business of his haphazardly-discarded clothes. His socks are removed and hung over the edge of a dresser drawer, pending laundering; the sweatpants get folded and set to the side, and after some deliberation he just takes off his sweater, as well. Perhaps Abbacchio will regret not being allowed to divest him of it personally, but — well, this way, it'll just be simpler.
That tidied, he returns to the bed and stretches out on top of the blankets, reaching for one edge of the comforter and pulling a fold of it over himself just to keep some of the heat in while he waits.
Fortunately, Abbacchio doesn't keep him waiting long, and when he beckons, it's easy to roll over and nudge closer as he's bidden.]
Mm. You look different without your makeup. Not better or worse. Just different.
[As soon as Edgeworth is closer, Abbacchio pulls him into a firm embrace, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose. Yeah, it's a little disappointing that he couldn't undress the man himself, but that's all right. He wouldn't expect Edgeworth to wait it out. Better that he's comfortable.
It's hard to not be a little affectionate after everything.]
Thanks. Kinda makes me feel more naked than taking off my clothes, to be honest. Don't tell anyone I got freckles.
[He nuzzles down to Edgeworth's throat, lazily kissing him there.]
[At first, he's a little hesitant, not quite knowing where Abbacchio is going with this and not quite able to let go of his own tension to ease into it. But then the kisses start falling on his face and neck, and it's surprisingly easy to come unwound and release a sigh that takes half the air in his chest with it.]
As it is, I'm mostly just making sure the dark circles don't show beneath my eyes.
[His words are murmured against Edgeworth's throat as he keeps peppering it with kisses, light and quick. Gently, his arm squeezes around Edgeworth's midsection, the affection lazy. Just another few minutes, and he'll get to some real work.]
And I would never hear the end of it. A man in my position, "cute".
[He swallows hard, though, as the recognition of what's actually happening starts to settle around him. Affection, conversation; the mixture of the two is sweetly intoxicating, lulling him into an unusual state of calm. He's not being asked to think, or even really to reciprocate. He can just talk, just experience, and it's all right; at the very least, Abbacchio doesn't seem to have a problem with it.]
I had a...demanding upbringing. Laziness was not tolerated.
[...]
That sounds like an excuse. I don't mean it to be. Just...the source of your correct assumption.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
teaserving) wrote2020-12-11 08:54 am
no subject
[He snorts softly, giving Edgeworth's hip a squeeze. There's no hurry from him.]
I can wait. Kinda wanna wash my face anyway.
no subject
[He clears his throat again, fully aware that he's essentially said nothing with that remark, but having to sort of get his head around his meaning before he can actually push the words out.]
I don't go into an encounter expecting obedience. My aim was to please you.
[He lets out a slow breath, his head falling comfortably to one side.]
I enjoyed it, too, make no mistake. But I wouldn't...demand that. Had you not set the pace first.
no subject
That's fair.
[His hand roams up to Edgeworth's shoulder before stroking down his side to the hip again.]
Just-- you know. If there's something you prefer, you can tell me that.
no subject
[His eyes fall half-closed as he basks in the — petting, almost. Lazy, languid touches that feel just right against his sensitive nerves, steady enough that he doesn't need to keep his eyes open in order to track them because the movements are predictable.]
It's not easily given. Certainly not anything I would insist upon out of a casual encounter.
[He seems to drift a minute, wavering, but then regroups and just takes the risk.]
I barely even know how to put it into words. Just — to be wanted. To not be...interchangeable with anyone else. As I said, that's too much to ask of anyone, but. It's a nice thought.
no subject
[And it's exactly what he thought it might be. How Edgeworth is instinctively seeking approval, to be desired. It's a curious thing, and the first thing he thinks of is who wouldn't want him? Well, clearly, that line of thinking has come from somewhere, before Caesar and Edgeworth's colleague alike both disappeared. It runs deeper.
He brushes hair from Edgeworth's face.]
I'll give whatever I've got. But trust me when I say that wanting you isn't a problem here.
no subject
[The words don't give away much, and the tone doesn't, either; the way he moves so eagerly, almost pleadingly, into the fingers that drift across his face is what offers up all the confirmation Abbacchio could ever need, and more.
Yes. Yes, please. Want me.
But then, tiredly, he chuckles a little.]
There's a sink across the hall, if you'd like to wash your face first.
no subject
I'll be back.
[He sits up, making quick work of himself with the sink across the way. For a brief moment, he has a look at himself, which is an absolute fucking mess. Dried cum, smeared makeup, and sweat.
Yeah, that'd definitely been a good time.
Abbacchio washes off his face, rubbing off his lipstick as well since it's kind of a disaster anyway. Upon returning, he's getting back to bed, then pauses before he's holding an arm up in invitation.]
C'mere.
no subject
That tidied, he returns to the bed and stretches out on top of the blankets, reaching for one edge of the comforter and pulling a fold of it over himself just to keep some of the heat in while he waits.
Fortunately, Abbacchio doesn't keep him waiting long, and when he beckons, it's easy to roll over and nudge closer as he's bidden.]
Mm. You look different without your makeup. Not better or worse. Just different.
no subject
It's hard to not be a little affectionate after everything.]
Thanks. Kinda makes me feel more naked than taking off my clothes, to be honest. Don't tell anyone I got freckles.
[He nuzzles down to Edgeworth's throat, lazily kissing him there.]
no subject
[At first, he's a little hesitant, not quite knowing where Abbacchio is going with this and not quite able to let go of his own tension to ease into it. But then the kisses start falling on his face and neck, and it's surprisingly easy to come unwound and release a sigh that takes half the air in his chest with it.]
As it is, I'm mostly just making sure the dark circles don't show beneath my eyes.
no subject
[His words are murmured against Edgeworth's throat as he keeps peppering it with kisses, light and quick. Gently, his arm squeezes around Edgeworth's midsection, the affection lazy. Just another few minutes, and he'll get to some real work.]
Yeah, you kinda seem like the workaholic type.
So I guess I gotta work hard to relax you.
no subject
[He swallows hard, though, as the recognition of what's actually happening starts to settle around him. Affection, conversation; the mixture of the two is sweetly intoxicating, lulling him into an unusual state of calm. He's not being asked to think, or even really to reciprocate. He can just talk, just experience, and it's all right; at the very least, Abbacchio doesn't seem to have a problem with it.]
I had a...demanding upbringing. Laziness was not tolerated.
[...]
That sounds like an excuse. I don't mean it to be. Just...the source of your correct assumption.