[ V is a curiously content person; even when it's an act, it's a chosen and dedicated one. V was born to waste away and die, but V has chosen his own fate just as masterfully as his true self cursed this part of him to death - and V's done it with far more deliberate thought. V is always present and, even in surprise, he tends to run calm.
It's a soothing thing to feel, so close to his own face. Will's eyes fall closed too - although they open when he blinks in surprise, laughing briefly at the continued reference turned joke. ]
If I got to choose, it probably wouldn't be a waterlogged ceiling and soup cans, [ Will says, but while he keeps his hold on the rose they're both still holding, he doesn't move to take it from V. He also doesn't move to get off the bed. Something curious and warm is lapping at the base of Will's spine, something as intrigued as it is aroused.
Will presses his thumb in, just the finest bit of pressure more, and the thorn does the rest. It's a slight prick that doesn't even affect his expression, but when he shifts his thumb away from the stem, he can see the blood well up.
Will has no particular plan in mind, no verse composed that will favor this concept - of blood pacts, of ancient rites, of something more feral than Will usually admits to wanting to be - but he leans forward again and kisses V, this time with lips that lazily part.]
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It's a soothing thing to feel, so close to his own face. Will's eyes fall closed too - although they open when he blinks in surprise, laughing briefly at the continued reference turned joke. ]
If I got to choose, it probably wouldn't be a waterlogged ceiling and soup cans, [ Will says, but while he keeps his hold on the rose they're both still holding, he doesn't move to take it from V. He also doesn't move to get off the bed. Something curious and warm is lapping at the base of Will's spine, something as intrigued as it is aroused.
Will presses his thumb in, just the finest bit of pressure more, and the thorn does the rest. It's a slight prick that doesn't even affect his expression, but when he shifts his thumb away from the stem, he can see the blood well up.
Will has no particular plan in mind, no verse composed that will favor this concept - of blood pacts, of ancient rites, of something more feral than Will usually admits to wanting to be - but he leans forward again and kisses V, this time with lips that lazily part.]