[ A little huff of amusement as Silco also remembers the armchairs, his sharp nose still right in close. ]
I think we can make do.
[ He picks the chaise solely because the bed feels like a step too far. It's still a pleasant little dinner date, low light, conversation — but, heady with wine and wanting, Silco nudges Stephen bodily into a chair more suitable for sprawling and climbs into his lap, drapes shamelessly over his chest and shoulders. ]
Better.
[ Low enough it's all rasp. He toys with the tie wound around his fingers, fidgeting, tucked too close for eye contact. Calm certainty betrayed by the rapid thrum of his pulse. ]
no subject
I think we can make do.
[ He picks the chaise solely because the bed feels like a step too far. It's still a pleasant little dinner date, low light, conversation — but, heady with wine and wanting, Silco nudges Stephen bodily into a chair more suitable for sprawling and climbs into his lap, drapes shamelessly over his chest and shoulders. ]
Better.
[ Low enough it's all rasp. He toys with the tie wound around his fingers, fidgeting, tucked too close for eye contact. Calm certainty betrayed by the rapid thrum of his pulse. ]
Go on.