[ Wriothesley recognizes the competitive edge in Lyney's kiss, the ever-present need to get a one-up on him even now as they float lost in a new sea, and Wriothesley does his best to match the pace. It's been long, so long since he's felt another person in this way--before he became the Administrator, sometime and someplace dead and gone to him--but he doesn't find that he missed it so much as he's captured something new in Lyney, greater than lust, bigger than any simple means of sating desire.
He holds fast to him as Lyney paws and searches and grabs--I've got you, he thinks, wonders if they're close enough that Lyney might hear his thoughts, wonders if the heartbeat thudding against his ribs spells the words somehow. It's the closest he has to an anchor in all of this, the only thing that's sure as so many other thoughts fly by and fall apart: what comes next? Does anything at all come next? Do they carry on as they were when this is over?
Could he even stand to?
The kiss slows in time, Wriothesley breathing heavy and hot against Lyney's face, brushing wayward hairs from the side of Lyney's face with a light hand. The sounds of the Fortress and its endless sprawl of pipes seem muted and distant against what the two of them generate: the slide of their tongues, the touch of their lips, the rustling of clothing between them. ]
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He holds fast to him as Lyney paws and searches and grabs--I've got you, he thinks, wonders if they're close enough that Lyney might hear his thoughts, wonders if the heartbeat thudding against his ribs spells the words somehow. It's the closest he has to an anchor in all of this, the only thing that's sure as so many other thoughts fly by and fall apart: what comes next? Does anything at all come next? Do they carry on as they were when this is over?
Could he even stand to?
The kiss slows in time, Wriothesley breathing heavy and hot against Lyney's face, brushing wayward hairs from the side of Lyney's face with a light hand. The sounds of the Fortress and its endless sprawl of pipes seem muted and distant against what the two of them generate: the slide of their tongues, the touch of their lips, the rustling of clothing between them. ]