... I was never able to choose, before. There were rules, consequences.
[ The touch has his back arching slightly, pressing close to Steinbeck with a soft sigh. He shifts to plant a kiss to his heart. It's chaste, though his lips linger for a beat.
He tries to be honest. ]
I wondered, what this one might be like. With him, with you.
[ Almost too quiet, mouthed idly against his heart as if it may have the answers for his own, he all but whispers after that. Lips soft, they're still wet as the skin they graze. ]
But I fear, I've no clue what I'm doing.
[ The graze of teeth, biting gently over the nearest scar. ]
[That certainly explains some things. He finds himself recalling Van Ziek's own flustered responses to his teasing, clarifying it in his own way. It seems Kaspar has had to deal with such things too - Steinbeck lets out a low sigh. A world like that, where you can't even pursue what you want without being knocked down for it...]
[He lets out a low noise at the kiss, before returning it with a brush of lips against the top of the other's head.]
That's alright. [He says, after a pause, his own voice as low as the sound of the bubbling water around them. He shifts his hand to feel over that burn on the other's hip, rough to touch even under the water, but his stroke is gentle. Van Zieks, huh? He doesn't know how to feel about it, but...] Anyone who says they have a clue is lying. You just have to go through it. See how it works with any person you do it with.
[A light shiver passes through him with the bite.]
[ The touch to his hip is a jolt of life, a stirring in the pit of his stomach. He almost squirms at the touch to the slope of his burn, drawing his hips towards the touch of Steinbeck's fingers as if pulled by an invisible lead.
Kaspar's tone picks up, from the affection and the words, lightening to ghost over Steinbeck's chest. The easy acceptance, a temporary salve for indecisiveness. One that warms his face, his eyes, his smile. The gift of understanding between them. As transparent as fluid as the river. ]
... I did bid on the one, that sounded like you.
[ But he doesn't ask for reassurances. Steinbeck's advice is taken and applied in the tender moment. The shift in his demeanor is as sudden as the look in his eyes and as subtle as a tell in a fight, the tensing of a muscle. Light grey in daylight, his eyes are cloudy fondness beneath clear skies, unlike the kinship with stars they have in the dark.
Kaspar leans back only to try and gently, playfully tug Steinbeck down to his level by his hips; to chase the other man's lips and gently press a heated thigh between his. Letting the water flow between the gaps of bare skin, the river's caresses. ]
[It really is summer. There's something so sweet about this, like taking a bite into a delicious peach, and letting the juices cool the skin warmed by a lazy sun. Steinbeck doesn't want to let it go. Doesn't want to let Kaspar go. He is a bit greedy, after all. In the end, though, there's something new and exciting about the thought about someone being greedy for him.]
[Kaspar breathes out that sentence, and Steinbeck lets out a little hiccup of a laugh.]
You already know me so well. [And his own blue eyes, bright as anything and reflecting the current, moving somewhere, anywhere, to carve out a route through wet soil, pore into Kaspar's grey ones.] You got me.
[He hates to think of himself as an object. He experienced that for too long, after all. But for here, for now, he'll make a concession. Be a prize, wrapped up with a bow. Perhaps its nice to be someone the man can enjoy, however he wants.]
[He returns the kiss, letting a noise out of his chest into the other's mouth at the movement down below - he shifts his own legs, the hand at the other's hip tracing back to cup the swell of his ass.]
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no subject
[ The touch has his back arching slightly, pressing close to Steinbeck with a soft sigh. He shifts to plant a kiss to his heart. It's chaste, though his lips linger for a beat.
He tries to be honest. ]
I wondered, what this one might be like. With him, with you.
[ Almost too quiet, mouthed idly against his heart as if it may have the answers for his own, he all but whispers after that. Lips soft, they're still wet as the skin they graze. ]
But I fear, I've no clue what I'm doing.
[ The graze of teeth, biting gently over the nearest scar. ]
no subject
[He lets out a low noise at the kiss, before returning it with a brush of lips against the top of the other's head.]
That's alright. [He says, after a pause, his own voice as low as the sound of the bubbling water around them. He shifts his hand to feel over that burn on the other's hip, rough to touch even under the water, but his stroke is gentle. Van Zieks, huh? He doesn't know how to feel about it, but...] Anyone who says they have a clue is lying. You just have to go through it. See how it works with any person you do it with.
[A light shiver passes through him with the bite.]
You shouldn't wonder. If you want it, go for it.
I never hit post :D;
Kaspar's tone picks up, from the affection and the words, lightening to ghost over Steinbeck's chest. The easy acceptance, a temporary salve for indecisiveness. One that warms his face, his eyes, his smile. The gift of understanding between them. As transparent as fluid as the river. ]
... I did bid on the one, that sounded like you.
[ But he doesn't ask for reassurances. Steinbeck's advice is taken and applied in the tender moment. The shift in his demeanor is as sudden as the look in his eyes and as subtle as a tell in a fight, the tensing of a muscle. Light grey in daylight, his eyes are cloudy fondness beneath clear skies, unlike the kinship with stars they have in the dark.
Kaspar leans back only to try and gently, playfully tug Steinbeck down to his level by his hips; to chase the other man's lips and gently press a heated thigh between his. Letting the water flow between the gaps of bare skin, the river's caresses. ]
no subject
[Kaspar breathes out that sentence, and Steinbeck lets out a little hiccup of a laugh.]
You already know me so well. [And his own blue eyes, bright as anything and reflecting the current, moving somewhere, anywhere, to carve out a route through wet soil, pore into Kaspar's grey ones.] You got me.
[He hates to think of himself as an object. He experienced that for too long, after all. But for here, for now, he'll make a concession. Be a prize, wrapped up with a bow. Perhaps its nice to be someone the man can enjoy, however he wants.]
[He returns the kiss, letting a noise out of his chest into the other's mouth at the movement down below - he shifts his own legs, the hand at the other's hip tracing back to cup the swell of his ass.]
[What a lovely peach, indeed.]