PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[maskarang]

So eating from my fingers wasn't enough?

[swordhandled]

--Will you actually feed me from your fingers?

[maskarang]

Hmph. Don't tempt fate.

[swordhandled]

[ holding his hand out for gerome ]

[maskarang]

[ this is a trap but he inches over and puts his hand in owain's anyway ]

[swordhandled]

[ very gently, he takes that hand in both of his, fingers working along each of gerome's fingers, very slowly and with great care. ] I've seen these fingers strike down men in the battlefield, and yet also seen them take great care in performing tasks with utmost gentleness. Please forgive me if I'm slightly fascinated by them and wish to be fed by them.

[maskarang]

What are— [ just. ??? why is this happening right now. this morning has been a lot to handle already. perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned this at all?

yet. he can't help the way his face flushes as owain speaks and touches his hand. ] I can't fathom why you would have this fixation. My hands are rough and calloused, same as yours.

[ however, he raises his hand up and runs his thumb over owain's lips. his voice is a little softer when he speaks up again. ] However, I... suppose I could try. Once.

[swordhandled]

Rough and calloused they may be, but I still love them.

[ he feels gerome's thumb run over his lips and he gently purses his lips, giving it a small kiss as he does so ] Once is all ask, at the very least.

[maskarang]

Do you have any other "fascinations" I should be aware of?

[swordhandled]

Do you really want to know?

[maskarang]

I do.

[swordhandled]

Sit on the bed for me?

[maskarang]

Why?

[swordhandled]

It'll make it easier.

[maskarang]

[ slooooooowly pulls his hand back and sits on the bed ]

[swordhandled]

How shall I begin... [ he mutters as he makes his way towards the bed. he pauses and brings his hands forward, resting them on either side of his face ]

Your red of your hair is far more beautiful than any sort of sunset that I have seen. The only sight that perhaps come close is the sight of the setting sun that I remember from my childhood room in Regna Ferox. How often I wish I could spend my days running my fingers through your locks.

[maskarang]

[ ???

what is... happening right now. if it weren't for the hands on his face he would take an uncertain look around the room. ] A-are you saying you've wanted to run your hands through my hair since you were a child?

[ no, that isn't what he's saying, gerome. ]

[swordhandled]

[ HOW DO I LOVE THEE, LET ME COUNT THE WAYS ]

Perhaps not quite like that, but ever since I could remember, I loved your hair.

[maskarang]

You mystify me more and more with every new fixation. [ shaking his head. ] It's only hair, touch it if you like.

[swordhandled]

It's your hair.

[ starts running his hands through it ]

[maskarang]

[ sits through this with the unnerving suspicion his hair is going to look awful after this ]

[swordhandled]

[ it's slow at first, the way his hands move through gerome's hair. fingers drag along gerome's scalp, pressing against it.










and then he musses up his hair ]

[maskarang]

[ he



was very wrong. this isn't just hair, he hardly knew a scalp could feel so utterly sensitive. his skin tingles at the touch, enough for him to nearly slap owain's hand away when it starts to feel like too much. and then.

the mussing begins. now he definitely slaps owain's hair away. ] Enough! Onto the next one!

[swordhandled]

[ he can't help the burst of laughter that leaves him when gerome slaps his hands away. he's quick to move them back to fix gerome's hair. ]

Very well, let me move on to your eyes.

[maskarang]

[ face hasn't recovered but he only lightly bats owain's hands away this time. stop with the touching of the hair, it is apparently sensitive. ]

What could you possibly want from my eyes? ... Owain, no! You can't mean to touch those, too!