[ Whether he likes it or not, a gasp judders out through his one-eyed wince. The casual reversal spurs the tepid strands of easy-to-ignore interest into a seething cluster in his stomach. A dark bruise gaining traction with each damnable punch Agent Choi swings at his well-worn guard. The worst part is he's never been invulnerable to him, not even slightly; he's on his toes enough playing this role, but adding the watchfulness of Black Tortoise 1's most experienced agent — and his most favored one — to the mix has been catastrophic for his nerves. It's too much, and he's finally feeling his grip on the reins slipping into the distance.
What a mess. His lips are tingling like they've already shared a kiss, like just his breath is a bodily contact. That's how he can tell his sanity is breaking down. ]
Nn…
[ His teeth grits together. After all, he should have discarded all semblance of dignity and let himself avalanche flat off the couch. Now, the opportunity's flown by, and now he's at a loss as to how to look away from the yields of his own fatal mistake. Unsure if he wants to.
He's been drinking, a voice in the rearmost parts of Soleum's brain reminds him. They both have. A complicated gamut of emotions flashes across his face before he finally comes to some kind of decision. For an extensive second, he considers it. Passing his mouth over Agent Choi's just to see if he feels as good as he looks, eyeing his next move, anticipating it, testing Soleum's fortitude with the straddle of their clothed hips pinned together in a flush fit.
His chin sways forward — and then Soleum's dokkaebi hand, sensing its master's plight, sweeps in, clapped right over the agent's smart mouth just as his lips lower against the back of his own knuckles. The intervention seems to revive his wits, because his face retreats in an instant, gaze open wide in surprise until bleeding into a look of relief. What a close call. ]
You — so you don't even know how cruel you're being. [ He's pouting, a little annoyed at his own moment of weakness. ] Are you positive you weren't contaminated earlier, Agent Choi?
no subject
What a mess. His lips are tingling like they've already shared a kiss, like just his breath is a bodily contact. That's how he can tell his sanity is breaking down. ]
Nn…
[ His teeth grits together. After all, he should have discarded all semblance of dignity and let himself avalanche flat off the couch. Now, the opportunity's flown by, and now he's at a loss as to how to look away from the yields of his own fatal mistake. Unsure if he wants to.
He's been drinking, a voice in the rearmost parts of Soleum's brain reminds him. They both have. A complicated gamut of emotions flashes across his face before he finally comes to some kind of decision. For an extensive second, he considers it. Passing his mouth over Agent Choi's just to see if he feels as good as he looks, eyeing his next move, anticipating it, testing Soleum's fortitude with the straddle of their clothed hips pinned together in a flush fit.
His chin sways forward — and then Soleum's dokkaebi hand, sensing its master's plight, sweeps in, clapped right over the agent's smart mouth just as his lips lower against the back of his own knuckles. The intervention seems to revive his wits, because his face retreats in an instant, gaze open wide in surprise until bleeding into a look of relief. What a close call. ]
You — so you don't even know how cruel you're being. [ He's pouting, a little annoyed at his own moment of weakness. ] Are you positive you weren't contaminated earlier, Agent Choi?