[ He'd been moving to loom discomfortingly over D, prosthetic hand bracing against the mattress tucked against his side and the other idly tracing up the front of his shirt, starting around the navel up to just below D's collarbone, but Gen's movements come to a pause at that declaration. Pointy canine ears flick back, and even addled by the haze of drinks, he narrows his eyes to scrutinize the statement for a moment.
If it were anyone else, it'd be so easy to dismiss as a bluff. Too bad D seems consistently, infuriatingly, stupidly sincere in everything he says. ]
... s'that right.
[ In the end, Gen settles for that dismissive response, one corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smirk. ]
Well, quit it. Not like there's anything here to understand. [ He's not lonely. This is meaningless. It's just a moment of vapid indulgence, really. (He insists, at least to himself.) ] Don't waste your breath on that shit. As long as you play nice, I won't go snitching on you to the rest of Highstorm. I ain't a rat.
[ With that, he hooks a finger into the top of the neck of D's shirt, aiming to yank it down and start unfastening it. Whatever it is that's affecting him has him especially impatient for the good old sensation of skin on skin; all that stuffy leather D's wearing doesn't do as much for him. Even as he continues to fight with D's clothes, rendered a little clumsy in his haste, he ducks his head in to press his lips against D's throat, right under the jawline. Dragging his teeth along the pale skin there and taking in the intoxicating scent he seems to exude 24/7.
Maybe he's motivated by just a little bit of petty desire for revenge when he nips at D's throat; a mirror of the same bite he'd begged for in the past, even if his own teeth aren't sharp enough to so easily puncture into flesh. ]
no subject
If it were anyone else, it'd be so easy to dismiss as a bluff. Too bad D seems consistently, infuriatingly, stupidly sincere in everything he says. ]
... s'that right.
[ In the end, Gen settles for that dismissive response, one corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smirk. ]
Well, quit it. Not like there's anything here to understand. [ He's not lonely. This is meaningless. It's just a moment of vapid indulgence, really. (He insists, at least to himself.) ] Don't waste your breath on that shit. As long as you play nice, I won't go snitching on you to the rest of Highstorm. I ain't a rat.
[ With that, he hooks a finger into the top of the neck of D's shirt, aiming to yank it down and start unfastening it. Whatever it is that's affecting him has him especially impatient for the good old sensation of skin on skin; all that stuffy leather D's wearing doesn't do as much for him. Even as he continues to fight with D's clothes, rendered a little clumsy in his haste, he ducks his head in to press his lips against D's throat, right under the jawline. Dragging his teeth along the pale skin there and taking in the intoxicating scent he seems to exude 24/7.
Maybe he's motivated by just a little bit of petty desire for revenge when he nips at D's throat; a mirror of the same bite he'd begged for in the past, even if his own teeth aren't sharp enough to so easily puncture into flesh. ]