[ Squalo makes sure to swallow whatever leftovers of booze may still be in his mouth before grinning with a breathless laughter. He may or may not have noticed that Dodger knows about two entire adjectives for such situations, but being vain as he is, he's perfectly pleased just hearing the same thing endlessly and being shamelessly smug about it. ]
I know.
[ He leans in, trying to get another kiss, but he does drop the bottle and snatch Dodger's wrist-- more reflex than anything. He actually looks confused himself for a moment, then decides to roll with it. ]
... Just leave it on.
[ He guides the other man's hand under his shirt, pressing it nice and firm to his abdomen, then lets go, letting him continue independently while Squalo slides his good hand up Dodger's arm, rubbing his shoulder in a sensual manner that definitely doesn't feel particularly no homo platonic. ]
[ Part of him almost expects someone to come in. Xanxus, most of all. Barge in, grab him and remind him who he really belongs to. Save him from the flaming spiral of self destruction that winds wider with each turn. ]
[ There's nobody, though. No one comes in, no one catches him, no one stops him. But there's a warm body underneath him and he presses flush against it, desperately craving every bit of physical contact he can claim. ]
no subject
[ sperm 8( ]
[ Squalo makes sure to swallow whatever leftovers of booze may still be in his mouth before grinning with a breathless laughter. He may or may not have noticed that Dodger knows about two entire adjectives for such situations, but being vain as he is, he's perfectly pleased just hearing the same thing endlessly and being shamelessly smug about it. ]
I know.
[ He leans in, trying to get another kiss, but he does drop the bottle and snatch Dodger's wrist-- more reflex than anything. He actually looks confused himself for a moment, then decides to roll with it. ]
... Just leave it on.
[ He guides the other man's hand under his shirt, pressing it nice and firm to his abdomen, then lets go, letting him continue independently while Squalo slides his good hand up Dodger's arm, rubbing his shoulder in a sensual manner that definitely doesn't feel particularly
no homoplatonic. ][ Part of him almost expects someone to come in. Xanxus, most of all. Barge in, grab him and remind him who he really belongs to. Save him from the flaming spiral of self destruction that winds wider with each turn. ]
[ There's nobody, though. No one comes in, no one catches him, no one stops him. But there's a warm body underneath him and he presses flush against it, desperately craving every bit of physical contact he can claim. ]