(if apollo could express it now in a way aside from pressing himself flush against klavier's lips, he'd only only proclaim how glad he was, how relieved and elated that klavier chose now to really soak in their love, embrace like this. he may be deprived of affection, of care, of love from those around him, but he knows more than anyone, he's wanted klavier's touch, his lips, his breath, ages before all of this. and he would never turn it down.
even if just for a short time, apollo allows himself to drift into the feeling. let his depression be kept at bay while he drinks in the klavier's taste and loses himself to the all too blissful feeling of being loved again. the way he kisses isn't nearly as hungry as klavier, just a little slower, a little more behind until klavier pulls away. apollo is out of breath, eyes eventually opening to stare up at klavier and wonder how it's possible for one person to be so awe-inspiring.
there's a brief nod at his suggestion, realizing his bandages probably shifted somewhere in the embrace. he's still a little slower, trying to catch up with the rest of the world.) Okay--
(and then he suddenly understands why he was so much slower. his face is flushed red from so much excitement, too much so to cause the wound on the back of his head to begin pounding in pain. his vision glares, sunspots blinding him and causing him to fall against klavier with a pained whine.
the hand on his head grips his hair tighter, eyes clenched shut as he waits for the pain to die down. he curls up against klavier, almost crumpling, his breath coming in pants and not from the kiss.) Need-- I need to sit down.
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even if just for a short time, apollo allows himself to drift into the feeling. let his depression be kept at bay while he drinks in the klavier's taste and loses himself to the all too blissful feeling of being loved again. the way he kisses isn't nearly as hungry as klavier, just a little slower, a little more behind until klavier pulls away. apollo is out of breath, eyes eventually opening to stare up at klavier and wonder how it's possible for one person to be so awe-inspiring.
there's a brief nod at his suggestion, realizing his bandages probably shifted somewhere in the embrace. he's still a little slower, trying to catch up with the rest of the world.) Okay--
(and then he suddenly understands why he was so much slower. his face is flushed red from so much excitement, too much so to cause the wound on the back of his head to begin pounding in pain. his vision glares, sunspots blinding him and causing him to fall against klavier with a pained whine.
the hand on his head grips his hair tighter, eyes clenched shut as he waits for the pain to die down. he curls up against klavier, almost crumpling, his breath coming in pants and not from the kiss.) Need-- I need to sit down.