[The temptation to squirm is nearly unendurable, and if not for the possibility that squirming might burst whatever delicate bubble of balanced potential enfolds them, Paul isn't sure he could stay still under that look. He knows he must be coral pink in blotches he's never thought were flattering, his blood vessels in rampant rebellion.
Kaworu's toying with his hair reminds Paul, in floating association, of his Omen's paws kneading in Paul's lap, the faint prickling of claws in the midst of plush, affectionate pressure.]
Thank you.
[If that's the game they're playing, then doesn't Paul know what his role is? It's playful, then, to glance away, his hand slipping tentatively towards the curve of a hip.]
no subject
Kaworu's toying with his hair reminds Paul, in floating association, of his Omen's paws kneading in Paul's lap, the faint prickling of claws in the midst of plush, affectionate pressure.]
Thank you.
[If that's the game they're playing, then doesn't Paul know what his role is? It's playful, then, to glance away, his hand slipping tentatively towards the curve of a hip.]
...do you still want to?