The thought of being restrained isn't attractive, necessarily, but if it keeps him from touching Edgin in ways he can't control...
"I wouldn't be opposed to it," Xenk admits, "if it were to keep me from giving you children without your consent."
His left hand draws down to catch Edgin's inner thigh, his palm curving around it to push it down against rug. Spread like this, open like this, he's reminded of the images his mind has given him in sleep-- of Edgin happy and willing, of Edgin's fingers clawing down his back as he clung to him-- and the heat prickling beneath his skin as he demonstrates the effects of Edgin's mark is no help at all.
Xenk swallows the saliva building in his mouth, doing his best to stay focused.
"I'm powerful, Edgin," he states, matter-of-fact instead of especially cocky. The press of his fingers to Edgin's mark turns into a press of the palm instead, and as he looks down where it rests against Edgin's lower belly, the whole mark starts to glow a bright purple. He'd read this turns awareness into desperation-- that like this, Edgin becomes more than empty.
That it makes him need to be full. That it makes his body change to accommodate it.
"Magic of this calibre, I've read, can turn you into a brooding mare if we aren't careful."
It's funny; he'd never quite considered what it would be like, being around one with a Mark of Creation. But the scent that greets him as Edgin insides turn slick drives Xenk to madness. He has to tear his gaze away from Edgin's open legs to look at him, and the amount of self-control necessary for it would be humiliating anywhere else.
"It makes you desire fullness to insanity," he says. "It makes your partner wish to complete the emptiness in your body. It..."
Holding the back of Edgin's knee, Xenk turns away to kiss it, taking a steady breath to collect himself instead of looking down at the flushed mess Edgin might be becoming.
"...it makes it terribly difficult to think."
Somehow, the feeling of the paladin's hand pressing flatly agains the mark feels even more overwhelmingly magnificent he can't help the groan that's ripped from his throat. Had it been anyone else, he'd have been properly humiliated for having such a wanton sound leaving him and so unwillingly so.
But it's Xenk, whom he trusts with every fiber of his being and loves and craves even more than that.
"Nngh-uh-huh, brooding mare, got it-" the bard grumbles impatiently, squirming up against him in an eager plea to just get on with this already.
As if the way his hands had been manipulating his leg to the positioning of his liking isn't enough, the kiss to his knee is shockingly maddening.
"Well, clearly it's not as desperate a feeling as I'm experiencing right now because if it were you'd already be inside me at the least," he mutters out in a snarky manner.
He feels, well, wet for some reason, and yet, he's not concerned in the slightest. It's almost as though the wetter he feels, the more he craves Xenk.
"Please, Xenk. Just give me something- anything. I need you so badly. I don't- I can't- I-" he begins to stammer, unshed tears beginning to brim his eyelids that are squeezed shit as a heat like no other begins to engulf him.
"Please... Please, Xenk.... Gods, please."











