[ Gorgug watches Fabian as he gets closer. Watches with an unflinching gaze, the expression on his face staying impassive, and all that changes is the way he needs to look up as Fabian gets closer, though he doesn't entirely keep his eyes on his face. There's a moment where he looks down at the rest of him, as soon as he's close.
And there's a moment where he nearly closes those eyes, fluttering, but not yet lowering. He removes one of his hands from around his knees and takes Fabian's within it; pausing if there's any sign of hesitation from Fabian's part, but still going for it with a steady and firm--but not tight--hold. Promising to smash the hands of the companion bots in one breath, and giving Fabian what he's wanted repeatedly now, while he tells him what he will and won't do.
Gorgug says nothing, despite a protest that nearly rises in his throat but dies before it can become a word. That part of him that wants to say he doesn't want to hurt anyone, but that can't commit to it. Doesn't he? Wouldn't he? He needs to. It just happens. It has to happen. He...
I don't want to be alone, his mind thinks louder, and he runs his thumb along the expanse on skin of the hand he holds, leaning his body to press himself into the side of Fabian's thigh. He hoops his other arm around Fabian's waist, bringing the two of them into a kind of awkward embrace, Gorgug's head near Fabian's hip, and he takes in a breath deep through his body and releases it through his nostrils.
The world isn't staying quite so grey, as every part of his perversion has found reason to invite itself in. Why Fabian?, as if he hasn't been haunted by the reason why before any of this started. Why not hurt him? Because he hasn't had the chance to.
And the words struggle in his throat, trying to die in the same way his protest had. But unlike it, the filth latches on; it builds like nausea, a wave of sickness that he tries to keep at bay until he forgets that it's what he wants. But isn't this what he wants?, the twisted part of him suggests, as he presses his forehead closer to Fabian's thigh: to be honest. To hate himself. ]
What if I told you I think about you at night? [ He finally lets out. ] Ever since that time I bit you, I play it back over and over... I'd hurt you if you told me to. I'd fuck you if you said yes.
[ He grimaces, as the shame shoots inside him. His hand resting against the small of Fabian's back palms at him a little, fingers pressing against the fabric of his shirt a little. ]
no subject
And there's a moment where he nearly closes those eyes, fluttering, but not yet lowering. He removes one of his hands from around his knees and takes Fabian's within it; pausing if there's any sign of hesitation from Fabian's part, but still going for it with a steady and firm--but not tight--hold. Promising to smash the hands of the companion bots in one breath, and giving Fabian what he's wanted repeatedly now, while he tells him what he will and won't do.
Gorgug says nothing, despite a protest that nearly rises in his throat but dies before it can become a word. That part of him that wants to say he doesn't want to hurt anyone, but that can't commit to it. Doesn't he? Wouldn't he? He needs to. It just happens. It has to happen. He...
I don't want to be alone, his mind thinks louder, and he runs his thumb along the expanse on skin of the hand he holds, leaning his body to press himself into the side of Fabian's thigh. He hoops his other arm around Fabian's waist, bringing the two of them into a kind of awkward embrace, Gorgug's head near Fabian's hip, and he takes in a breath deep through his body and releases it through his nostrils.
The world isn't staying quite so grey, as every part of his perversion has found reason to invite itself in. Why Fabian?, as if he hasn't been haunted by the reason why before any of this started. Why not hurt him? Because he hasn't had the chance to.
And the words struggle in his throat, trying to die in the same way his protest had. But unlike it, the filth latches on; it builds like nausea, a wave of sickness that he tries to keep at bay until he forgets that it's what he wants. But isn't this what he wants?, the twisted part of him suggests, as he presses his forehead closer to Fabian's thigh: to be honest. To hate himself. ]
What if I told you I think about you at night? [ He finally lets out. ] Ever since that time I bit you, I play it back over and over... I'd hurt you if you told me to. I'd fuck you if you said yes.
[ He grimaces, as the shame shoots inside him. His hand resting against the small of Fabian's back palms at him a little, fingers pressing against the fabric of his shirt a little. ]
Do you still want to stay with me?
[ It's not an offer. Not exactly. ]