[Ah, so he's the first one completely naked. It's surreal, watching Gladio peel his pants off like that. His own pale, thin legs are so dull against Gladio's toned arms, and the rest of his body is just the same. His ribs show from this angle on the table, even past his own muscles from dancing. He's nowhere near as defined as Gladio. He's thin, his hip bones stick out too much, he's so pale that his veins show through too much... To be honest, he doesn't like it at all.
But Gladio is still looking at him like that. Eichi's hair is disheveled, his face is hot and red, and Gladio is giving him every bit of attention right now. There's no one interrupting, nothing stopping them or holding them back. It's just the two of them.
He thinks back to thoughts in that tent on his first mission, pressed close to Gladio in sleeping bags and idly thinking some thoughts in his drunken state, but this was so much more extreme, wasn't it? He doesn't think he can compare the two things. Time really can change things.
His throat is kissed so passionately that he gasps, an impatient and strained noise slipping out shortly afterwards as he squirms on the table. One of his hands nearly knocks a cup over, but it's just out of reach thanks to Gladio's foresight. That bag is much closer, rustling against his palm as his other hand slides fingers into Gladio's hair. He's getting harder by the second, and it's impossible to hide now. Similarly, it's harder to speak, harder to hold back his longing noises, harder to stop himself from making these embarrassing expressions.]
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But Gladio is still looking at him like that. Eichi's hair is disheveled, his face is hot and red, and Gladio is giving him every bit of attention right now. There's no one interrupting, nothing stopping them or holding them back. It's just the two of them.
He thinks back to thoughts in that tent on his first mission, pressed close to Gladio in sleeping bags and idly thinking some thoughts in his drunken state, but this was so much more extreme, wasn't it? He doesn't think he can compare the two things. Time really can change things.
His throat is kissed so passionately that he gasps, an impatient and strained noise slipping out shortly afterwards as he squirms on the table. One of his hands nearly knocks a cup over, but it's just out of reach thanks to Gladio's foresight. That bag is much closer, rustling against his palm as his other hand slides fingers into Gladio's hair. He's getting harder by the second, and it's impossible to hide now. Similarly, it's harder to speak, harder to hold back his longing noises, harder to stop himself from making these embarrassing expressions.]