[ Caelus doesn't move. It's less that he doesn't want to, and more just that it just doesn't occur to him that he should move at all without Luocha's invitation to do so. He still feels as though he's under the man's spell, slightly hypnotized; the hold that Luocha has over him feels as potent as any Spirit Whisper conjured by Kafka in the dead of the night. He keeps his breath held as Luocha gently mops up what he's spilled over himself; the towel draws away after a time, leaving him cleaned and comfortably warm.
Then, at last, Caelus lets out the breath he was holding; sheer relief makes him feel a little intoxicated. He wanted to kiss Luocha, but the man has already drawn back to a normal sort of distance, and that's fine, for the moment. Because the more he wants it, the worse it will snag and tangle in his heart until tomorrow, when all his pent-up desire will burst. My cup runneth over, drowned in his insatiable wants. Oh, of course he knows that he shouldn't let himself sink into this too deeply — but isn't it fine, for a moment, to pretend?
After a moment, the Trailblazer realizes that Luocha has finished with him, so he swallows on a lump in his throat and pulls his shirt back down where it rode up, baring everything. Once he's got himself looking presentable once more, Caelus shifts slightly, as if getting ready to stand. He glances up at the merchant, looking as though nothing ever happened to him. Reflexively, the boy with golden eyes runs a hand through his hair; it comes out even messier than before, but he doesn't look rumpled. He doesn't look like he's done anything lascivious in the last few minutes at all.
Everything is as it should be. ]
Um.
[ This is so awkward, and also so funny. No one ever talks about how you're supposed to conclude an illicit sexual meeting, much less an illicit sexual meeting with a merchant-turned-doctor that has ended in the promise of more. Caelus makes a face that is difficult to describe — something between a smile and a bashful grimace. ]
I still feel like... I should be thanking you instead.
[ Faltering, he hooks his thumb in his pocket, less because he has to and more because he doesn't know what else to do with his hands. Abruptly, he blurts out — ]
I like you a lot. [ He regrets saying it, but it's honest, so there's a relief in saying it. ] I know I shouldn't. But still.
[ I know I shouldn't. That's all that he really needs to say, to prove that he is both perfectly aware of where he stands, and more than willing to accept the risks of this arrangement. But still. ]
no subject
Then, at last, Caelus lets out the breath he was holding; sheer relief makes him feel a little intoxicated. He wanted to kiss Luocha, but the man has already drawn back to a normal sort of distance, and that's fine, for the moment. Because the more he wants it, the worse it will snag and tangle in his heart until tomorrow, when all his pent-up desire will burst. My cup runneth over, drowned in his insatiable wants. Oh, of course he knows that he shouldn't let himself sink into this too deeply — but isn't it fine, for a moment, to pretend?
After a moment, the Trailblazer realizes that Luocha has finished with him, so he swallows on a lump in his throat and pulls his shirt back down where it rode up, baring everything. Once he's got himself looking presentable once more, Caelus shifts slightly, as if getting ready to stand. He glances up at the merchant, looking as though nothing ever happened to him. Reflexively, the boy with golden eyes runs a hand through his hair; it comes out even messier than before, but he doesn't look rumpled. He doesn't look like he's done anything lascivious in the last few minutes at all.
Everything is as it should be. ]
Um.
[ This is so awkward, and also so funny. No one ever talks about how you're supposed to conclude an illicit sexual meeting, much less an illicit sexual meeting with a merchant-turned-doctor that has ended in the promise of more. Caelus makes a face that is difficult to describe — something between a smile and a bashful grimace. ]
I still feel like... I should be thanking you instead.
[ Faltering, he hooks his thumb in his pocket, less because he has to and more because he doesn't know what else to do with his hands. Abruptly, he blurts out — ]
I like you a lot. [ He regrets saying it, but it's honest, so there's a relief in saying it. ] I know I shouldn't. But still.
[ I know I shouldn't. That's all that he really needs to say, to prove that he is both perfectly aware of where he stands, and more than willing to accept the risks of this arrangement. But still. ]