[He exhales at the wet heat of his mouth and tongue, staring up glassy-eyed toward the ceiling above him. Caelus' passion feels like a flame, the kind of thing that he's always been drawn to but never truly felt. Aventurine is the man who lowers his hand over the candle and never gets burned, watching as he dazzles everyone in the room with his ability to drag his fingers through an open fire and come out on the other end, right as rain.
He doesn't get hurt. He knows the tricks to protect himself.
When Caelus kisses him, he returns it, tilting his head to deepen it, feeling all of Caelus' hunger and leaning up into him, eager for more. Aventurine is careful, always keeping himself in an ironclad control, never allowing himself to want too much or beg too hard with his body.
Instead, he leans back when he's pushed, spreading his legs further to allow Caelus' knee to nudge up against him - ah, that feels good. Aventurine lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction, lifting one of his arms to sling it loosely around the other man's shoulders.]
Are you gonna report me to my boss? Seems counterproductive.
[Cheeky. Aventurine lays back against the bed then, hair splayed out on the mattress as he looks at Caelus above him. Like this, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest and against the other man's fingers, still very much alive, despite how artificial he can seem.
With his free hand, he digs around a bit in his coat, reaching for an inside pocket before pulling out a thin, flat box. It's a fancy thing, brilliant green and velvet, and he offers it flippantly to Caelus, as if it's no more than a cheap card.
Inside, of course, nestled on velvet, is the collar and leash he'd described in his texts. He wasn't kidding, either: the delicate goldwork and inlay of the stones are second to none. It's an extravagant piece, even if it's more suited to a dog than a human.]
I never got a clear answer, [he murmurs, his piercing eyes on Caelus. Calculating. Unreadable.] What you'd do.
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He doesn't get hurt. He knows the tricks to protect himself.
When Caelus kisses him, he returns it, tilting his head to deepen it, feeling all of Caelus' hunger and leaning up into him, eager for more. Aventurine is careful, always keeping himself in an ironclad control, never allowing himself to want too much or beg too hard with his body.
Instead, he leans back when he's pushed, spreading his legs further to allow Caelus' knee to nudge up against him - ah, that feels good. Aventurine lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction, lifting one of his arms to sling it loosely around the other man's shoulders.]
Are you gonna report me to my boss? Seems counterproductive.
[Cheeky. Aventurine lays back against the bed then, hair splayed out on the mattress as he looks at Caelus above him. Like this, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest and against the other man's fingers, still very much alive, despite how artificial he can seem.
With his free hand, he digs around a bit in his coat, reaching for an inside pocket before pulling out a thin, flat box. It's a fancy thing, brilliant green and velvet, and he offers it flippantly to Caelus, as if it's no more than a cheap card.
Inside, of course, nestled on velvet, is the collar and leash he'd described in his texts. He wasn't kidding, either: the delicate goldwork and inlay of the stones are second to none. It's an extravagant piece, even if it's more suited to a dog than a human.]
I never got a clear answer, [he murmurs, his piercing eyes on Caelus. Calculating. Unreadable.] What you'd do.