[Everything about Paul feels flushed, especially when Kaworu's teeth close so gently on his lip, a tiny tug just below pain. The sound he answers with is low and needy, a murmur crushed between them like grapes spilling dark sweetness.
The skin under the edge of Kaworu's shirt is heated, flecked with scars, and it feels urgently necessary to press his fingers against it as his other hand sinks wholly into pale hair. It slakes one want and gives rise to more, a desire for ever more closeness, for immersion - he could swim in this, dive in it, plunge into the surf and let it have him.
He tilts his head to put them at a slant, his mouth parting further, the slide of lips and tongue losing structure and tentativeness as he sinks into the kiss.]
no subject
The skin under the edge of Kaworu's shirt is heated, flecked with scars, and it feels urgently necessary to press his fingers against it as his other hand sinks wholly into pale hair. It slakes one want and gives rise to more, a desire for ever more closeness, for immersion - he could swim in this, dive in it, plunge into the surf and let it have him.
He tilts his head to put them at a slant, his mouth parting further, the slide of lips and tongue losing structure and tentativeness as he sinks into the kiss.]