[Beautiful, beautiful star. But not above the world so high this time, but in his arms, something so solid yet restless, gentle yet fierce, soft yet strong. Plants find unusual ways to grow out of the darkness towards rays of light, poring through cracks, reaching out with needy vines. Kaspar's back arches in such a lovely way, and Steinbeck's hand follows, a low noise sifting through his lips as he covetously strokes over it to memorize the line of bones below. With his ability, his knowledge of anatomy is better than most. He has to know every detail of his own to understand where a knife can go without posing damage, even if he knows his own vines will always do their best to stem up wounds and knit tissue together.]
[Kaspar's anatomy is infectious. There may be cloth between his touch and the skin below, but he finds a thrill in the pull of muscle, the solidity of flesh. He wonders if there may be a chance here to pull back barriers and be burned against that persistent glow. He may not have to wonder for longer. Kaspar tugs him in, and he finds his legs shifting into place as his hips cascade down onto the other's. The spark from before that dropped into his belly feels like the lighter from before, his body a crackling pile ready for a burning to be destroyed and made anew.]
[Steinbeck won't restrain the groan in his chest as his tongue is captured, sucked on - his teeth clack against Kaspar's, a little greedy, a little generous. Its not enough for Kaspar to dote this attention on him. He has to return it, to offer himself like fruit on the vine to be sated on. A generosity he almost never affords to others. His soul may be dashed in the future for all he's done, a black mark in a man's checkbook, but Kaspar? Hardly not. Perhaps he understands the life Kaspar embodies, a hope that still feels so far away, optimism in a future he doesn't recognize. But maybe, for a moment, its nice to indulge in it.]
[A deeper kiss. Thank you. Another noise, for ears to be pleased. Thank you. A tantalizing scrape of nails over bare skin on his neck. Thank you.]
no subject
[Kaspar's anatomy is infectious. There may be cloth between his touch and the skin below, but he finds a thrill in the pull of muscle, the solidity of flesh. He wonders if there may be a chance here to pull back barriers and be burned against that persistent glow. He may not have to wonder for longer. Kaspar tugs him in, and he finds his legs shifting into place as his hips cascade down onto the other's. The spark from before that dropped into his belly feels like the lighter from before, his body a crackling pile ready for a burning to be destroyed and made anew.]
[Steinbeck won't restrain the groan in his chest as his tongue is captured, sucked on - his teeth clack against Kaspar's, a little greedy, a little generous. Its not enough for Kaspar to dote this attention on him. He has to return it, to offer himself like fruit on the vine to be sated on. A generosity he almost never affords to others. His soul may be dashed in the future for all he's done, a black mark in a man's checkbook, but Kaspar? Hardly not. Perhaps he understands the life Kaspar embodies, a hope that still feels so far away, optimism in a future he doesn't recognize. But maybe, for a moment, its nice to indulge in it.]
[A deeper kiss. Thank you. Another noise, for ears to be pleased. Thank you. A tantalizing scrape of nails over bare skin on his neck. Thank you.]