[Jikan IC Inbox][un: redwine]

[judgementor]

"Leave a message. If it's important, I'll get back to you."

*beep*

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[judgementor]

[Red Wine's grin is knife-sharp. There's a warning in it that he doesn't speak - if Steak damages his clothes there will be hell to pay - but he trusts that the other Food Soul actually knows that and won't venture so far as to actually apply his blade to fabric at a risk of ruining this delightful little scenario he's set up.

He grits his teeth and hisses through them as faint pain prickles across his scalp in counterpoint to the slowly growing burn of pleasure inching its way across his chest. Without the haze of the heat that had prompted them together the last time he's more keenly aware of Steak's fumbling inexperience, but... it is endearing, in its way.]

Mmph-- [His hands grip around the ties and he tries to bend his knees only to have the motion stalled.] Are you willing to take some direction, Steak? You might find it useful.

[battlebound]

( Well, can Steak honestly say he wouldn't find Red Wine's rage a little bit, uh, shall we say "thrilling"? ... No he can't. Because there's something kind of hot in the warning grin he gets thrown, something that stirs those thoughts of battles past and the times his back is (sometimes quite literally) up against the wall.

But then Red Wine calls that out, and the train of thought is broken with a soft exhale. Guess his acting really isn't any better since the day they met Mrs. Gia, huh? )

... What is it?

( F i n e. )

[judgementor]

[He huffs out a soft breath through his nose. Well, at least Steak is not completely closed off to reason... and they have not done this enough times yet for the other Food Soul to really understand where he needs to be putting his hands.]

I'll not have you ruin my clothes, so let me take them off first.

[He gives one of the restraints a pointed tug.]

And after that... I'll give you all the information that you need to drive me completely wild. How does that sound?

[battlebound]

( The look on Steak's face suggests that he doesn't particularly enjoy this setback, or his own failure at making this work, but he does do what he's told, undoing Red Wine's restraints with surprisingly quick movements — he may have practiced while Red Wine was lazily making his way back — before sitting back on the bed. )

Well?

( He's waiting. And probably not entirely realising that he's just drawing more attention to himself by being impatient about things. )

[judgementor]

[It's sort of cute, he realises when he sees how eager Steak is to just get on with it. Red Wine almost has a moment of guilt in letting him make a fool of himself, and resolves to be a little kinder to him... at least for this particular tryst.]

Give me your hand. [He says, and when he has it clasped in his own he brings Steak's fingertips up against the sensitive tip of one pointed ear. His breath stutters briefly.]

Start here.

[battlebound]

( Expectations were, perhaps, that Red Wine would just shrug off his clothes and they'd be back to business, and it shows in the brief flicker of surprise which crosses Steak's face as his fingertips brush against the tip of that ear.

... Oh.

Well. Logic dictates that if Red Wine likes that simple touch, then more is better, right? If he leans in, brushes his mouth against the earlobe, and lightly — just lightly, for once — follows the curve up to where the very tip is, he may draw something like those noises he was getting from Red Wine back when that heat overwhelmed him. Those noises which have visited him all too often at night since that day, leaving him hard and aching in bed.

And tempted enough to read stupid, pulpy fantasies about the man he's currently, slowly, pressing back into the bed. )