[Kaworu tucks himself against the vulnerable column of Paul's throat, and when Paul thinks of teeth he doesn't think of them drawing blood. He's only aware of them, hidden behind soft lips that nearly touch Paul's skin when Kaworu speaks, and he thinks his pulse must almost be audible as it rushes inside his carotid artery.
There's nothing abstract or esoteric about that sensitivity, which has him catching his breath in that very throat at the same time that the meaning of Kaworu's words process on those more rarefied levels.]
You're right.
[Does Kaworu hear the faltering note? Does he notice the dampness of Paul's palm, the acuteness of his focus? The thought is agitating either way.]
We need other people to know ourselves. [And he could stop there. He could stop, and it would be enough, and he could have refrained from adding, voice low and husked:] Do you like what I see in you?
no subject
There's nothing abstract or esoteric about that sensitivity, which has him catching his breath in that very throat at the same time that the meaning of Kaworu's words process on those more rarefied levels.]
You're right.
[Does Kaworu hear the faltering note? Does he notice the dampness of Paul's palm, the acuteness of his focus? The thought is agitating either way.]
We need other people to know ourselves. [And he could stop there. He could stop, and it would be enough, and he could have refrained from adding, voice low and husked:] Do you like what I see in you?