[Figaro (why) asks if he's worried for him, and Gepard grimaces, as...apparently he is? And apparently, Gepard wants to push things, and he opens his mouth to do just that, but then; Figaro (why?) puts his hand over his heart and declares that he'll swoon, which distracts Gepard just enough that he has to make an annoyed noise. And then he says he'll eat him after the first date, which makes Gepard stare - wide-eyed - and blush. Red-tipped ears, his mouth working wordlessly, because what can he say to that? What, exactly can he say?
And then-
His hand is held. A kiss is pressed to his knuckles. Gepard inhales, sharp, his fingers ever so slightly trembling, curving around Figaro's own. Because he's not meant for this sort of thing. Gepard knows this. He's not meant for...whatever this is. Fake passes, faker flirting. Which means that he has no idea what to do about the fact that this feels like he's being flirted with? Well, it's obviously flirting, but flirting as a distraction. Flirting as a misdirection.
He swallows, hand still in the unfortunately named Figaro's own. He should pull away. Gepard knows this. He doesn't, not quite yet.]
If you're satiated, then...fine, I know I taste terrible. [...which is really embarrassing?] But the Silvermane Guard is looking for you. If things had gone slightly differently, this night would have ended far worse for you.
[Apparently he is concerned, but Gepard's telling himself that Figaro's a Belobog citizen with haunting eyes and unique dietary requirements, and there's no reason why they can't meet his unique dietary requirements, this is simply a matter of public service and he's not thinking with his dick right now. (He can do both. Both's possible. But he's ignoring the dick and focusing on the public service angle.)]
I can try to come up with something more... [What's a good word for it?] ...sustainable, but it'll take time, and I don't know if time is something you'll have.
no subject
And then-
His hand is held. A kiss is pressed to his knuckles. Gepard inhales, sharp, his fingers ever so slightly trembling, curving around Figaro's own. Because he's not meant for this sort of thing. Gepard knows this. He's not meant for...whatever this is. Fake passes, faker flirting. Which means that he has no idea what to do about the fact that this feels like he's being flirted with? Well, it's obviously flirting, but flirting as a distraction. Flirting as a misdirection.
He swallows, hand still in the unfortunately named Figaro's own. He should pull away. Gepard knows this. He doesn't, not quite yet.]
If you're satiated, then...fine, I know I taste terrible. [...which is really embarrassing?] But the Silvermane Guard is looking for you. If things had gone slightly differently, this night would have ended far worse for you.
[Apparently he is concerned, but Gepard's telling himself that Figaro's a Belobog citizen with haunting eyes and unique dietary requirements, and there's no reason why they can't meet his unique dietary requirements, this is simply a matter of public service and he's not thinking with his dick right now. (He can do both. Both's possible. But he's ignoring the dick and focusing on the public service angle.)]
I can try to come up with something more... [What's a good word for it?] ...sustainable, but it'll take time, and I don't know if time is something you'll have.