Is it really a save if it’s what I was thinking the whole time? (klavier may not be a walking lie detector like most of the pwaa, but he hopes the sincerity in his voice makes it through, that klavier does believe apollo’s only thought has been being intimate with klavier no matter the sheets beneath them. he lets himself fall back gently against the bed, arms extended out as klavier follows him, and a smile on his face that’s been there specially for klavier ever since they first said “i love you”.)
Why would I need to look at anything else when I’ve got the most beautiful sight in the world in front of me?
(it’s stated more quietly than his usual voice, using that certain tone for when he’s speaking from the heart. his own hands mimic klavier’s, tucking silky golden strands behind his boyfriend’s ear as he returns the kiss fervently, a more than content sigh escaping through his nose as he smiles just the tiniest bit into the kiss. he was happy. hell, by this point in their relationship, happy was an understatement. just looking at klavier improved his moods by astronomical bounds (as clay would and often did say).
he’s more than thrilled to let things continue as they are, slowly kissing and trailing each other’s bodies, intimate touches and words meant only for each other. but it’s when klavier begins taking off apollo’s clothes that he pulls away, just far enough to speak through a few pants and out of breath gasps.) About that. Do you mind if I top this time?
(he’s hesitant and small, the way he always is when asking for something. he’s still adjusting to being able to do that with klavier, or even knowing that klavier encourages apollo voicing his own wants and needs. he bites his lower lip anxiously, desperately hoping he didn’t ruin any plans for the evening.)
no subject
Why would I need to look at anything else when I’ve got the most beautiful sight in the world in front of me?
(it’s stated more quietly than his usual voice, using that certain tone for when he’s speaking from the heart. his own hands mimic klavier’s, tucking silky golden strands behind his boyfriend’s ear as he returns the kiss fervently, a more than content sigh escaping through his nose as he smiles just the tiniest bit into the kiss. he was happy. hell, by this point in their relationship, happy was an understatement. just looking at klavier improved his moods by astronomical bounds (as clay would and often did say).
he’s more than thrilled to let things continue as they are, slowly kissing and trailing each other’s bodies, intimate touches and words meant only for each other. but it’s when klavier begins taking off apollo’s clothes that he pulls away, just far enough to speak through a few pants and out of breath gasps.) About that. Do you mind if I top this time?
(he’s hesitant and small, the way he always is when asking for something. he’s still adjusting to being able to do that with klavier, or even knowing that klavier encourages apollo voicing his own wants and needs. he bites his lower lip anxiously, desperately hoping he didn’t ruin any plans for the evening.)