[ Oh, he's stubborn. Basch can see the growing flush, and the resistance to it. He wishes he could know what was going on in that mind, what fantasies were being shoved down.
Instead, he takes a slow sip of his wine, cocking his head to consider his prize, then another before setting it down.
This time he comes behind the man, hands settling over his shoulders, thumbs knowingly settling into circles where muscles are like to be tense.
And this close, if Sylvain wriggles back against him, there's no doubt he'll feel Basch's hardened length. That's the other's choice, though; Basch was honest that he won't offer that sort of touch without an invitation.
Still, he can't resist baiting the other. ]
So tense. Wouldn't it be easier, to not fight so hard at every turn?
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Instead, he takes a slow sip of his wine, cocking his head to consider his prize, then another before setting it down.
This time he comes behind the man, hands settling over his shoulders, thumbs knowingly settling into circles where muscles are like to be tense.
And this close, if Sylvain wriggles back against him, there's no doubt he'll feel Basch's hardened length. That's the other's choice, though; Basch was honest that he won't offer that sort of touch without an invitation.
Still, he can't resist baiting the other. ]
So tense. Wouldn't it be easier, to not fight so hard at every turn?