[ As the stranger inclines towards him, a queasy charcoal smell hits Matt's nostrils, mingling with the flowers on the altar, the ancient stone, the forest's damp scent around them. Then lips press to his throat, questing and craving, and Matt's neck arches. A sharp sound escapes him. He's felt this will he, won't he before--usually with vampires; all the time, with Vincent. Wondering when teeth will pierce flesh, how much it'll hurt. If he'll ask for more. The combination of fear and anticipation intoxicates him even now.
Matt's hips shift against the stranger's. He feels him already starting to stiffen, and crooks his leg to draw them more insistently together. His own hips rock, his body starting to respond to the kisses, the friction, the stranger's voice. His teeth dig into flesh. For undress me, he breathes a laugh and a-- ]
Hm. You got it.
[ Only then does he let the rose slip from around the stranger's neck. Matt's fingertips trail briefly across the marks the thorns have made. Then he tugs at the feathery collar piece, fingers quick and clever even lefthanded. It comes loose, feathers fluttering to follow the rose. Then Matt goes to work on the laces of the leather top. His right hand is still blazing, so he holds a bit distant. In a pinch, maybe he could burn this guy's clothes off, but Plan A is undoing these laces. ]
also, nsfw from here on out ... this is not a place of honor
Matt's hips shift against the stranger's. He feels him already starting to stiffen, and crooks his leg to draw them more insistently together. His own hips rock, his body starting to respond to the kisses, the friction, the stranger's voice. His teeth dig into flesh. For undress me, he breathes a laugh and a-- ]
Hm. You got it.
[ Only then does he let the rose slip from around the stranger's neck. Matt's fingertips trail briefly across the marks the thorns have made. Then he tugs at the feathery collar piece, fingers quick and clever even lefthanded. It comes loose, feathers fluttering to follow the rose. Then Matt goes to work on the laces of the leather top. His right hand is still blazing, so he holds a bit distant. In a pinch, maybe he could burn this guy's clothes off, but Plan A is undoing these laces. ]