[What did he want? The question bounces around as Clive chews on it. He didn’t want anything related to his desire for the man. He wants to take that himself and isn’t going to risk losing any kind of advantage there by making a bet on it. Also, if he wanted to be blatantly obvious about his desire, he would just say it. No point in wasting an opportunity.
Then Vander’s eyes start roaming and Clive knoww. He won’t be needing that bet. The fire that always felt like it was flickering under his skin starts to burn hotter. Clive relaxes his body and tilts his already raised chin a little to the side, exposing just a bit more of his throat, enough to be an invitation, a promise for the future if he so chooses.
Once Vander finishes his exploration, Clive returns back to the default position he had been in. If the night goes the way he wants it to, Vander will have plenty opportunity to see as much of Clive’s skin as he wants.]
A secret. [Clive thinks for a moment.] Okay. But under the stipulation that I won’t tell you until tomorrow.
[Might as well bite that bullet. He won’t be able to keep being the vessel from Vander long. This man was too smart. But not tonight. He wanted tonight. He needed tonight. To just be a man with an ability that Vander was new to, not a man to be pitied or feared or anything else. The pulse of that need sent a stab of ice through him, tempering that fire just a bit.]
Let me think a minute.
[And then Vander’s hand was brushing his. Clive almost snatched it back, was going to, but then their shoulders were bumping and the distance was too far. It would feel strange now, reaching out for something that was already taken back. No. Not taken back. Just moved.
Clive scoffs a laugh at Vander’s comment, but it comes out bitter. If only ‘sometimes’ was the case back home. Life might be a little easier for everyone if that were true.
There was something in Vander that tenses, though. Clive watches him, eyes sharp. Was this painful for him somehow? A small part of Clive mourns the loss of eye contact, but it also gives him the opportunity to scrutinize Vander a bit closer. His brows furrow as he watches the tension deliberately wash out of him. He knows that stance. He has both seen and done it too many times to count.
There was something there and Clive wants to know what it is. Disregarding Vander’s comment about the sparring match, Clive closes the distance between the two of them and finally reaches up. He turns Vander’s face gently towards him so he can look him in those rather entrancing grey eyes and rests gloved fingertipss almost inperceptively on one strong cheekbone.]
My bet. I want to know what that was. What you just thought.
[Clive slowly let’s his hand fall but instead of returning it to his side he rests it on Vander’s arm, the one that is unoccupied by the cup.]
Also not tonight. By the end of the week at the latest. Now, if that is an acceptable wager, what is your bet?
no subject
Then Vander’s eyes start roaming and Clive knoww. He won’t be needing that bet. The fire that always felt like it was flickering under his skin starts to burn hotter. Clive relaxes his body and tilts his already raised chin a little to the side, exposing just a bit more of his throat, enough to be an invitation, a promise for the future if he so chooses.
Once Vander finishes his exploration, Clive returns back to the default position he had been in. If the night goes the way he wants it to, Vander will have plenty opportunity to see as much of Clive’s skin as he wants.]
A secret. [Clive thinks for a moment.] Okay. But under the stipulation that I won’t tell you until tomorrow.
[Might as well bite that bullet. He won’t be able to keep being the vessel from Vander long. This man was too smart. But not tonight. He wanted tonight. He needed tonight. To just be a man with an ability that Vander was new to, not a man to be pitied or feared or anything else. The pulse of that need sent a stab of ice through him, tempering that fire just a bit.]
Let me think a minute.
[And then Vander’s hand was brushing his. Clive almost snatched it back, was going to, but then their shoulders were bumping and the distance was too far. It would feel strange now, reaching out for something that was already taken back. No. Not taken back. Just moved.
Clive scoffs a laugh at Vander’s comment, but it comes out bitter. If only ‘sometimes’ was the case back home. Life might be a little easier for everyone if that were true.
There was something in Vander that tenses, though. Clive watches him, eyes sharp. Was this painful for him somehow? A small part of Clive mourns the loss of eye contact, but it also gives him the opportunity to scrutinize Vander a bit closer. His brows furrow as he watches the tension deliberately wash out of him. He knows that stance. He has both seen and done it too many times to count.
There was something there and Clive wants to know what it is. Disregarding Vander’s comment about the sparring match, Clive closes the distance between the two of them and finally reaches up. He turns Vander’s face gently towards him so he can look him in those rather entrancing grey eyes and rests gloved fingertipss almost inperceptively on one strong cheekbone.]
My bet. I want to know what that was. What you just thought.
[Clive slowly let’s his hand fall but instead of returning it to his side he rests it on Vander’s arm, the one that is unoccupied by the cup.]
Also not tonight. By the end of the week at the latest. Now, if that is an acceptable wager, what is your bet?