[just okay. she leaves him to interpret her however he likes, which is every direction but realistic. or is it? she's doing this for him and he believes she's creating a special space for the two of them. he can be purposeful with his thoughts when he wants to and uses her gentle agreement for a flurry of images of them all on his own.

his lashes flutter against his cheeks and he goes somewhere, energy stagnating, then an explosive color of her fills his mind. her voice, her face, her lips, taken by his hands and his tongue in her mouth. does roza know which monster she's tugging at, snaking her way inside his head like a vibrant neon sign with her fuck me eyes and soft touch?]

I'd have both, [he starts, gaze trailing from their hands and up her arm, to her shoulder to linger at her neck so he can think about biting her there, then her jawline and finally to meet hers. he would right here in this very room.] but then I'd have you riding my face.

[he doesn't know power like hers. maybe raíz– the encompassing type of power that bares teeth and pacifies. he isn't sensitive how telepaths are sensitive, but he recognizes someone blessed with inherently more than others, especially when they're in his head painting pictures. he doesn't let her finish every stroke.]

I like to eat. I'd eat you 'til you were shaking and keep goin'. [less malicious, tongue wetting his lips like she's there already.] Which way, hm? Which way would you want it?