[ Gorgug tastes Fabian's fear on the back of his throat.
It's a different kind of fear from any that's come before it. There's no disgust where there should be, though Gorgug isn't of the correct mind to be surprised by that in a rational way. He notes better what he can sense, or the part of him that seeks out those unwanted emotions in others, the things they want to hide. It's not the right environment for him to sense every nuance better, but he knows what Fabian wants: it's exactly what he said.
For Gorgug to stop.
And Gorgug can't stop.
Because that taste makes him looks up after letting the emotion wash into him, and he wants it again--a craving that's been piqued. Reminded. Alerted. He's looking at Fabian directly, wanting him to feel the weight of his gaze on him enough to make him uncomfortable, to make his own brain his enemy; before he asks him, the fingers of the hand against his back slipping to the rim of his pants. ]
...Do you want to?
[ And maybe, if Fabian dares to look down--if he's somehow continued to look at Gorgug, he'll find Gorgug doing the exact thing he wouldn't have wanted him to do, and to look towards his crotch. Just as he rolls in his lips to lick his tongue over them, a quick motion. ]
Just tell me, [ he offers, voice softer. Giving Fabian a push, an excuse to do it. Doesn't he?
But if Fabian thinks to do something like pull away, he'll find that he won't be able to--not with the arm around his waist that will grab on tighter, and the hand on his that won't let go.
There will be a consequence for trying to escape--for chickening out. Fabian isn't that heavy for a guy like Gorgug, after all. ]
no subject
It's a different kind of fear from any that's come before it. There's no disgust where there should be, though Gorgug isn't of the correct mind to be surprised by that in a rational way. He notes better what he can sense, or the part of him that seeks out those unwanted emotions in others, the things they want to hide. It's not the right environment for him to sense every nuance better, but he knows what Fabian wants: it's exactly what he said.
For Gorgug to stop.
And Gorgug can't stop.
Because that taste makes him looks up after letting the emotion wash into him, and he wants it again--a craving that's been piqued. Reminded. Alerted. He's looking at Fabian directly, wanting him to feel the weight of his gaze on him enough to make him uncomfortable, to make his own brain his enemy; before he asks him, the fingers of the hand against his back slipping to the rim of his pants. ]
...Do you want to?
[ And maybe, if Fabian dares to look down--if he's somehow continued to look at Gorgug, he'll find Gorgug doing the exact thing he wouldn't have wanted him to do, and to look towards his crotch. Just as he rolls in his lips to lick his tongue over them, a quick motion. ]
Just tell me, [ he offers, voice softer. Giving Fabian a push, an excuse to do it. Doesn't he?
But if Fabian thinks to do something like pull away, he'll find that he won't be able to--not with the arm around his waist that will grab on tighter, and the hand on his that won't let go.
There will be a consequence for trying to escape--for chickening out. Fabian isn't that heavy for a guy like Gorgug, after all. ]