Wren watches Alex: the lick of his lips and his effort to relax, the grip
of his hands and his expression betraying his nervousness and the way he
can almost feel him slowly relax.
He smirks at the response. "That's better," he teases back. Wren moves with
him, slow, intent, keeps his eyes on his as if there's nothing else to look
at, curves one arm up around his shoulder to keep him close as they echo
each other's movement.
He picks up some of the still wet paint from his face and traces it down
playfully in a green glowing stripe along his neck and collarbone with a
thoughtful look. "Also that," he grins.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-10-24 01:52 pm (UTC)Wren watches Alex: the lick of his lips and his effort to relax, the grip of his hands and his expression betraying his nervousness and the way he can almost feel him slowly relax.
He smirks at the response. "That's better," he teases back. Wren moves with him, slow, intent, keeps his eyes on his as if there's nothing else to look at, curves one arm up around his shoulder to keep him close as they echo each other's movement.
He picks up some of the still wet paint from his face and traces it down playfully in a green glowing stripe along his neck and collarbone with a thoughtful look. "Also that," he grins.