( if Aoba knew he was being compared so frequently to Crowley's vampire girlfriends and failing so hard, he might be a little offended. since he's blissfully unaware he simply keeps moving his fingers, learning the shape of the man's ear, a little amused that it's pointed. isn't that like, an elf thing? his interest moves along to behind the ear and the soft juncture of skin where jaw and neck meet. but that gives his thumb the chance to stroke along the outer shell of ear, moving down to brush against its lobe. )
Mm.
( a murmur of understanding. well, it's not like he won't be twenty-five soon enough. then thirty. and then even beyond that. and he keeps quiet as Crowley talks, listening to the sound of his voice, its alluring quality, the words themselves. as Crowley shifts Aoba moves a little too, but largely stays in the same position. watching, golden eyes almost unblinking as he studies Crowley's again. until the man looks away, anyhow.
there's a distance between Crowley's experiences and what Aoba can really understand. no, he's never... really been all that religious, honestly, only memories of a Church being some distant thing near the sound of crashing waves, sand, and a warm voice asking if he wanted to come with him. he's never been to war. never killed, even if scrap's a dangerous tool that could break someone's mind and has.
none of it is anything for him to judge. and he doesn't, that much is obvious from how his expression mostly stays soft, with touches of curiosity, no shying away even with a backstory that would raise some red flags if the vampire thing didn't. it—does make his heart hurt, a bit, because it's not a happy story. did he really think it would be...? no. of course not. )
So that's how it is... ( cheek against his palm, Aoba goes quiet again, thinking, wondering. but then there's a huff as he offers Crowley a smile, ) ... Thank you for telling me. ( maybe Crowley doesn't care, maybe he's told a thousand people, but Aoba does. ) For what it's worth, ( which he acknowledges isn't much, ) I'm glad I met you.
( he's not looking for the same answer in response, doesn't even wait for anything near like it as he rolls onto the flat of his back again, stretching out like a cat. if he could purr he probably would. )
You said there was a way to mark you earlier. What did you mean?
( he's completely ignoring the fact that he was told he'd have to beg for that answer. hasn't he begged enough?! )
no subject
Mm.
( a murmur of understanding. well, it's not like he won't be twenty-five soon enough. then thirty. and then even beyond that. and he keeps quiet as Crowley talks, listening to the sound of his voice, its alluring quality, the words themselves. as Crowley shifts Aoba moves a little too, but largely stays in the same position. watching, golden eyes almost unblinking as he studies Crowley's again. until the man looks away, anyhow.
there's a distance between Crowley's experiences and what Aoba can really understand. no, he's never... really been all that religious, honestly, only memories of a Church being some distant thing near the sound of crashing waves, sand, and a warm voice asking if he wanted to come with him. he's never been to war. never killed, even if scrap's a dangerous tool that could break someone's mind and has.
none of it is anything for him to judge. and he doesn't, that much is obvious from how his expression mostly stays soft, with touches of curiosity, no shying away even with a backstory that would raise some red flags if the vampire thing didn't. it—does make his heart hurt, a bit, because it's not a happy story. did he really think it would be...? no. of course not. )
So that's how it is... ( cheek against his palm, Aoba goes quiet again, thinking, wondering. but then there's a huff as he offers Crowley a smile, ) ... Thank you for telling me. ( maybe Crowley doesn't care, maybe he's told a thousand people, but Aoba does. ) For what it's worth, ( which he acknowledges isn't much, ) I'm glad I met you.
( he's not looking for the same answer in response, doesn't even wait for anything near like it as he rolls onto the flat of his back again, stretching out like a cat. if he could purr he probably would. )
You said there was a way to mark you earlier. What did you mean?
( he's completely ignoring the fact that he was told he'd have to beg for that answer. hasn't he begged enough?! )