[ Vaer has most certainly borne witness to many a tavern brawl in their time, so Hector's response simply garners a mirthless, breathy chuckle before they lean back on the bed, propping their body up on their elbows. They continue to watch with rapt attention as Hector peels away his clothing, one article at a time, heat already pooling in their gut while their eyes roam appreciatively all over Hector's frame.
That his skin is marked by scars comes as little surprise, given his apparent world-weariness, especially so given how they were just talking about wearing full armor to a hotel bar. His body looks so different from the unmarked, supple bodies of the noble folk Vaer had been used to seeing in their past life; no, his looks more akin to that of an adventurer, and in the best of ways.
After all, each mark, each ridge of toughened skin and each discoloration is a story that has been carved, burnt, and fixed into his being... And in spite of themself, Vaer is a moth drawn to a flame, for a bard cannot resist a good story. ]
So we are.
[ The words leave their lips as little more than a whisper. Hector settles onto their lap, and immediately Vaer is obediently sitting up. All the while, their hands find the meat of his thighs, fingers pressing deep into the fabric of his trousers and soon wandering up before they grab his ass, offering a slow roll of their hips against Hector's as they lean in and offer a kiss so light and seemingly chaste, a tease before they catch Hector's lower lip between their teeth and bite down ever so lightly. ]
no subject
That his skin is marked by scars comes as little surprise, given his apparent world-weariness, especially so given how they were just talking about wearing full armor to a hotel bar. His body looks so different from the unmarked, supple bodies of the noble folk Vaer had been used to seeing in their past life; no, his looks more akin to that of an adventurer, and in the best of ways.
After all, each mark, each ridge of toughened skin and each discoloration is a story that has been carved, burnt, and fixed into his being... And in spite of themself, Vaer is a moth drawn to a flame, for a bard cannot resist a good story. ]
So we are.
[ The words leave their lips as little more than a whisper. Hector settles onto their lap, and immediately Vaer is obediently sitting up. All the while, their hands find the meat of his thighs, fingers pressing deep into the fabric of his trousers and soon wandering up before they grab his ass, offering a slow roll of their hips against Hector's as they lean in and offer a kiss so light and seemingly chaste, a tease before they catch Hector's lower lip between their teeth and bite down ever so lightly. ]