[At the set-aside bottle, Cain arches a brow in a questioning expression, but he doesn't pursue or try to reclaim the drink. He's had enough to settle the anticipatory jitter of nerves, and leftover now is a stark appreciation for what he has standing between his legs.]
A farmer? You're joking. [The bark of laughter is incredulous, but it's lighthearted, coloring a very different picture of the version of Cain who behaved like a skittish cat their first encounter.] Guess when you live so long, that's like... not that crazy to believe. I don't know even know what I'd do with all that time. Maybe a farmer too.
[If there's any part of him that questions everything Cy has told him up to this point, in between the moments he knows Cy is saying nothing to say something, it's easy to ignore. His hands are exploratory across that bared upper body, palms flat to the skin in broad strokes. By comparison, his own scars—the newly healed gunshot wound on his abdomen, and a few other scraps and nicks elsewhere—feel vivid. He has a colonist's dark complexion, a soldier's body flawed and bruised through life at a young age.
He unknowingly proves Cy's assumption correct when he leans in and begins nosing the area around a flat navel, lips interposed with blunt teeth, just teasing. Those hands find Cy's pants to hook over the band.]
（ that matter-of-fact line of inquiry notches a faint wry smirk into one corner of his mouth. despite all the bark (and there's been, you know, definitely enough of that to paint a picture) this kid is sure someone who's made his bed being useful. not shy, no shame, enough confidence that he can sell what he's doing. but cy would bet the blowjob that the confidence is tangled up in a deep, pressing need to be offering some sort of tangible benefit for companionship or camaraderie. when everything's transactional, nothing's personal, ain't the bitch of it all?
fucking soldiers. he has a type and he's not sorry about it.
he lifts his hand, palms at the kid's cheek, long fingers falling against the line of his jaw. his thumb traces along his bottom lip, and then teases inwards, stopping only when he hits teeth.
he could get tender about it, but he has a feeling that wouldn't land well with this one. instead, with a bit of a laugh. ）
Well, it ain't gonna suck itself. That'd be a fucking trick, though.
[The smart remark earns only a snicker this time, subdued by the touch, mouth pulled in a smile untamed by the reveal of all his teeth. Two neat, white rows that part against Cy's thumb, lips and tongue eager to taste someone else's skin, lapping at the callused pad before rolling over the knuckle.
And eager, maybe, to prove himself after the kiss in the sunlight room that was meant to test boundaries and his own interest, finding himself more than pliable—in fact, dying for physical comfort like a man of thirst. The something wrong a flicker pushed back into his mind, ignored. Abel won't miss him.
When was the last time he went down on someone who wasn't Abel, slender enough to fit easily into his mouth? He can't remember. His thumbs unceremoniously yank at Cy's waistband, not playing coy, hurrying ahead of foreplay in order to mouth directly over Cy's underwear at the crotch until he feels fabric grow damp and firm beneath his lips. The cot is low enough and Cy is tall enough that he barely has to move to reach, even though his bare ankles hook around Cy's lower calves anyway, just to have another place to touch. And then another tug, pulling Cy's cock free from clothes to get it on his tongue—stabilized by a fisted hand around the base. He doesn't balk at the size, seeming instead hungry to lick Cy completely wet before he tries taking his cock past lips and deeper, into his throat, in order to finally push all of the thoughts out of his head.]
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i forgot to cw nsfw this thread oops
A farmer? You're joking. [The bark of laughter is incredulous, but it's lighthearted, coloring a very different picture of the version of Cain who behaved like a skittish cat their first encounter.] Guess when you live so long, that's like... not that crazy to believe. I don't know even know what I'd do with all that time. Maybe a farmer too.
[If there's any part of him that questions everything Cy has told him up to this point, in between the moments he knows Cy is saying nothing to say something, it's easy to ignore. His hands are exploratory across that bared upper body, palms flat to the skin in broad strokes. By comparison, his own scars—the newly healed gunshot wound on his abdomen, and a few other scraps and nicks elsewhere—feel vivid. He has a colonist's dark complexion, a soldier's body flawed and bruised through life at a young age.
He unknowingly proves Cy's assumption correct when he leans in and begins nosing the area around a flat navel, lips interposed with blunt teeth, just teasing. Those hands find Cy's pants to hook over the band.]
Want me to suck your dick?
(it's just their onlyfans startup it's fine)
fucking soldiers. he has a type and he's not sorry about it.
he lifts his hand, palms at the kid's cheek, long fingers falling against the line of his jaw. his thumb traces along his bottom lip, and then teases inwards, stopping only when he hits teeth.
he could get tender about it, but he has a feeling that wouldn't land well with this one. instead, with a bit of a laugh. ）
Well, it ain't gonna suck itself. That'd be a fucking trick, though.
🤡
And eager, maybe, to prove himself after the kiss in the sunlight room that was meant to test boundaries and his own interest, finding himself more than pliable—in fact, dying for physical comfort like a man of thirst. The something wrong a flicker pushed back into his mind, ignored. Abel won't miss him.
When was the last time he went down on someone who wasn't Abel, slender enough to fit easily into his mouth? He can't remember. His thumbs unceremoniously yank at Cy's waistband, not playing coy, hurrying ahead of foreplay in order to mouth directly over Cy's underwear at the crotch until he feels fabric grow damp and firm beneath his lips. The cot is low enough and Cy is tall enough that he barely has to move to reach, even though his bare ankles hook around Cy's lower calves anyway, just to have another place to touch. And then another tug, pulling Cy's cock free from clothes to get it on his tongue—stabilized by a fisted hand around the base. He doesn't balk at the size, seeming instead hungry to lick Cy completely wet before he tries taking his cock past lips and deeper, into his throat, in order to finally push all of the thoughts out of his head.]