[ It's information, not feeling, that he takes in through the stone. If his half-petrified breast swells with emotion, it's because of the sight of it, not the sensation. All his arm senses is the temperature of Theo's lips. A slight pressure. The texture of them, each minute fold in the skin. The heat and regularity of his breath. They don't combine to form a whole, the way they would if it were his own skin.
But they combine to form something, because it's not only the fondness he borrowed from G'raha Tia that drives him to sigh contentedly and lean his cheek into Theo's waiting hand. Even if all he said were true, even if they had never met before, he would want this. He would adore the man who brought the night back. He would give much for a chance to express his adoration like this. ]
I should like to do nothing more.
[ He withdraws his hands, taking Theo's free one in one of his own. Fabric rustles again, he swallows. Then he places Theo's hand on a bare thigh, robes pulled up enough that he can guide his hand under the skirts of them. He can't disrobe himself while Theo is still above him, so this will have to do until they untangle themselves at least a little. ]
no subject
But they combine to form something, because it's not only the fondness he borrowed from G'raha Tia that drives him to sigh contentedly and lean his cheek into Theo's waiting hand. Even if all he said were true, even if they had never met before, he would want this. He would adore the man who brought the night back. He would give much for a chance to express his adoration like this. ]
I should like to do nothing more.
[ He withdraws his hands, taking Theo's free one in one of his own. Fabric rustles again, he swallows. Then he places Theo's hand on a bare thigh, robes pulled up enough that he can guide his hand under the skirts of them. He can't disrobe himself while Theo is still above him, so this will have to do until they untangle themselves at least a little. ]