[ In contrast to the drama of dropping the mask, Rau is largely unfussed by undressing. Coordinators may be disproportionately hotties, but Rau has fantastic abs despite spending large amounts of time in zero-gravity -- he knows perfectly well that he’s really, really, really ridiculously good looking and, unlike his face, he doesn’t have any hangups about his body when it’s not painfully dying on him. Also this uniform has a crew-neck undershirt beneath the coat, so there’s still a long way to go before this particular exploration yields any more skin than some neck and a bit of collarbone.
So he leaves Gil free to make his way down the clasps running down the uniform collar and chest. (Even through uniform fabric, hands on his chest will be able to feel that his heartrate is up, undermining his veneer of smug indifference as much as the color in his cheeks.) Instead, he drapes his arms over Gil’s shoulders and kisses him. It’s light, brief, investigative. ]
“Yet,” [ he repeats thoughtfully.
And then he kisses him again -- this time, using his extra leverage to press their lips together with the tiniest bit more force, barely brushing his teeth over Gil’s lower lip. This kiss is a touch longer before Rau pulls back slightly. But then he presses down again. And again, and again, as many times as Rau can get away with before Gil gives some word or sign of wanting to interrupt the cycle. Each kiss is noticeably rougher than the last -- longer, deeper, more bruising force as Rau pushes down, more teeth scraping and pressing into soft skin; he’ll take anything that Gil throws back into the kisses and continue making each one a fraction wilder than one before. But there’s that same pause and withdrawal after every one: Rau is methodically, if ruthlessly, testing the limits of Gil’s tolerance and preference, and is waiting to see where Gil will tell him to knock it off.
Rau is largely unfussed by undressing, but Gil’s going to have to manage it by touch alone, and while Rau is being highly distracting. ]
no subject
So he leaves Gil free to make his way down the clasps running down the uniform collar and chest. (Even through uniform fabric, hands on his chest will be able to feel that his heartrate is up, undermining his veneer of smug indifference as much as the color in his cheeks.) Instead, he drapes his arms over Gil’s shoulders and kisses him. It’s light, brief, investigative. ]
“Yet,” [ he repeats thoughtfully.
And then he kisses him again -- this time, using his extra leverage to press their lips together with the tiniest bit more force, barely brushing his teeth over Gil’s lower lip. This kiss is a touch longer before Rau pulls back slightly. But then he presses down again. And again, and again, as many times as Rau can get away with before Gil gives some word or sign of wanting to interrupt the cycle. Each kiss is noticeably rougher than the last -- longer, deeper, more bruising force as Rau pushes down, more teeth scraping and pressing into soft skin; he’ll take anything that Gil throws back into the kisses and continue making each one a fraction wilder than one before. But there’s that same pause and withdrawal after every one: Rau is methodically, if ruthlessly, testing the limits of Gil’s tolerance and preference, and is waiting to see where Gil will tell him to knock it off.
Rau is largely unfussed by undressing, but Gil’s going to have to manage it by touch alone, and while Rau is being highly distracting. ]