[ That hint of mischief is met with mirth on K's part. He has to debate whether he should explain the extent of his knowledge â he does understand the biology involved â but that he's just never had any use for this information before now, nor any real desire to act on it. Of course, there's a world of difference between knowledge and firsthand experience, that's being made abundantly clear as their efforts become more coordinated...
In the wake of that promise and with such a brazen invitation to touch the god more intimately, the clothing barrier is hardly going to be a deterrence. Inexperience with a trace of diffidence keeps K's touch light at first, just the tips of his fingers sweeping across the fabric of Tech Boy's pants, almost teasingly, before settling over the unmistakable proof of his arousal. K's eyes flicker back up to his face as he presses more firmly with one hand (perhaps not coincidentally, the one bearing the red string around his ring finger), curling his fingers inward and stroking them up the hard length of Tech Boy's cock through his pants. He'd like to be able to take care of Tech Boy as well, in more than just this way.
You always do.
It's accompanied by a flash of memory: his arms, bitten and torn and bleeding. Then being touched by Tech Boy, healed at the expense of the god's own energy at a time when he could barely stand unassisted. ]
In that case, I think we may need to revisit that red thread of fate theory. [ His words are punctuated by an appreciative squeeze to the relevant part of Tech Boy's anatomy, a raised eyebrow and pleased smile, and then he elaborates: ] It could have manifested because of what I was already feeling...
[ Because that's what the connection has seemed to do, for him; exaggerated what was already there, rather than implanting anything truly foreign. The unusual intensity of his emotions over the last couple months may have been confusing to deal with, but it's served to crystallise his desires along the way. ]
no subject
In the wake of that promise and with such a brazen invitation to touch the god more intimately, the clothing barrier is hardly going to be a deterrence. Inexperience with a trace of diffidence keeps K's touch light at first, just the tips of his fingers sweeping across the fabric of Tech Boy's pants, almost teasingly, before settling over the unmistakable proof of his arousal. K's eyes flicker back up to his face as he presses more firmly with one hand (perhaps not coincidentally, the one bearing the red string around his ring finger), curling his fingers inward and stroking them up the hard length of Tech Boy's cock through his pants. He'd like to be able to take care of Tech Boy as well, in more than just this way.
You always do.
It's accompanied by a flash of memory: his arms, bitten and torn and bleeding. Then being touched by Tech Boy, healed at the expense of the god's own energy at a time when he could barely stand unassisted. ]
In that case, I think we may need to revisit that red thread of fate theory. [ His words are punctuated by an appreciative squeeze to the relevant part of Tech Boy's anatomy, a raised eyebrow and pleased smile, and then he elaborates: ] It could have manifested because of what I was already feeling...
[ Because that's what the connection has seemed to do, for him; exaggerated what was already there, rather than implanting anything truly foreign. The unusual intensity of his emotions over the last couple months may have been confusing to deal with, but it's served to crystallise his desires along the way. ]