[The moment seems to slow. Everything's perfect. He's warm and safe in the arms of a mysterious man - someone whose name he doesn't even know, how funny - and he feels perfect. Warm and full of bliss. Hot and like all of his nerve endings are sparking eagerly. Gepard feels alive...
...and then Figaro pulls out. Gepard whimpers. It's a small, soft, desperate noise, the beginnings of begging, choked out by the tongue against his neck. Gepard arches his neck- Figaro wants to taste him, sure, he can taste every last bit of him, a breathless little a-ah coming out of his lips as his leg tries to tangle with Figaro's own, pull him down-
And then that's the point in which Gepard really sort of realizes what just happened. He freezes. He's suddenly aware of a few things:
1. Figaro's bite is more...it's nicer than he expected, a moment's pain and then pleasure, pure bliss. This might be a problem?
2. He also currently has an erection hard enough he could likely break through Qlipoth Fort if he tried. This is definitely a problem.
3. Figaro heard all of that, saw all of that, and if he hadn't come to when he did, would've felt all of that.
The joy is replaced with pure embarrassment and also, they're still kind of entangled, aren't they? He's still in Figaro's arms, his hand is still in Figaro's hair. If he knew Figaro's actual name, he might have moaned it by accident, and- Gepard breathes in, out, slower, in again, out again, trying to force himself to relax, and also hoping that maybe his erection isn't something noticeable...? Perhaps? Perhaps this happens all the time. Yes. Figaro's likely used to this.]
...sorry. [Please say it's normal. He looked like such a mess, probably, sounded like a mess, probably, definitely. Please say all the victims end up being ridiculous.
His hand, at a loss, starts stroking Figaro's hair which isn't silky-soft perfection, but the fact it's on the coarse and possibly split-ended side of things is, at least, a reassurance, that he won't start- that the bite only effects him so much.] I don't know what came over me.
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...and then Figaro pulls out. Gepard whimpers. It's a small, soft, desperate noise, the beginnings of begging, choked out by the tongue against his neck. Gepard arches his neck- Figaro wants to taste him, sure, he can taste every last bit of him, a breathless little a-ah coming out of his lips as his leg tries to tangle with Figaro's own, pull him down-
And then that's the point in which Gepard really sort of realizes what just happened. He freezes. He's suddenly aware of a few things:
1. Figaro's bite is more...it's nicer than he expected, a moment's pain and then pleasure, pure bliss. This might be a problem?
2. He also currently has an erection hard enough he could likely break through Qlipoth Fort if he tried. This is definitely a problem.
3. Figaro heard all of that, saw all of that, and if he hadn't come to when he did, would've felt all of that.
The joy is replaced with pure embarrassment and also, they're still kind of entangled, aren't they? He's still in Figaro's arms, his hand is still in Figaro's hair. If he knew Figaro's actual name, he might have moaned it by accident, and- Gepard breathes in, out, slower, in again, out again, trying to force himself to relax, and also hoping that maybe his erection isn't something noticeable...? Perhaps? Perhaps this happens all the time. Yes. Figaro's likely used to this.]
...sorry. [Please say it's normal. He looked like such a mess, probably, sounded like a mess, probably, definitely. Please say all the victims end up being ridiculous.
His hand, at a loss, starts stroking Figaro's hair which isn't silky-soft perfection, but the fact it's on the coarse and possibly split-ended side of things is, at least, a reassurance, that he won't start- that the bite only effects him so much.] I don't know what came over me.