@playkinshara
Taken from here: xxxx
Rose appreciates Szayel’s way with words, that clever kind of poetry is part of the reason he was drawn to him in the first place. It compliments the way he seems to fit like so perfectly against him, the steadying rise and fall of his chest and the kiss against his neck. All of it gives Rose strength. He takes a deep breath and speaks, exposing inner thoughts not shared with just anyone. He feels a little calmer. The nerves still persist but are kept at bay enough by their closeness for Rose to offer Szayel a level of trust he doesn’t give to many.
It’s a relief that Szayel speaks before he moves Rose thinks. After sharing something so intimate, to lose the warmth of his embrace without warning would have convinced him he was being rejected out of hand; that he’d misjudged and caused offence. The words assure him that’s not it, just a position change and the blonde finds they’re now face to face , the other man’s hands caressing his face. It’s not quite as good as being held but still reassuring.
He looks away, expression pensive as his adventurous taste is remarked on, perhaps the other man has a point. Rose isn’t naive he knows about this man’s strength,some of the things he might be capable of if given the chance. However, new as they are, they’ve had enough time for Rose to get comfortable enough to allow himself a little more vulnerability, to feel he’s offering this control to the right person.
Part of him wants to close his eyes and focus on the way the thumbs stroke his face, the fact his lover is willing to indulge this side of him. Instead he wills himself to focus on what Szayel is asking, knowing they’re important questions. It might be his fantasy but Rose knows he wouldn’t want to enact it without discussing their boundaries or ensuring they were both comfortable.
“It does make sense and I agree,” he smiles at the kiss and gives in to the urge to close his eyes “ I wouldn’t want to do this without knowing exactly where we both stand.”
He lets his hands rest against the other’s waist, indulging the need for contact. He’s happy to admit to himself that having Szayel near makes talking about this easier, more enjoyable.
“Why don’t we get comfortable?” he suggests “ I’ll answer those questions and whatever else you want. I’d like to know about your limits too, what you would and wouldn’t want to do.“
Szayel nuzzles into Rose, pleased at the contact.
“Yes…let’s do get comfortable. I’m interested to learn all of that, and I should probably talk about myself as well. I mean my own personal experience is rather varied. I don’t really often talk about it…and I’m not sure what you’ll think of it, to be honest.”
“In fact, I’m curious what image of me you have in your head. Not that I’m unwilling to do things; I’m very flexible in what I like to do, and I certainly desire to have my way with you, if that is what you want. But I do wonder what you’ve been able to piece together about what I’m actually like.”
Szayel leans in, kissing warm soft lips. Gently he leads Rose over to the couch and encourages him to lie down, cuddled up with his head in his lap. He holds him, one hand lazily fingering through the wavy hair, the other cradling his head, admiring the man in his arms. Ideal, he thinks, so that he can speak face to face, and enjoy his tactile display of affection without too much fear of distraction from the matter at hand.
“Limits are important,” he murmurs. “In my experience pleasure is maximized when one goes as close to them as one can…but not enough to pass them. If it were a graph, pleasure would be asymptotic to an axis of desire…the area underneath the graph encompassing every wanted action, plot never kissing the hard line, but always approaching.”
“Let’s start with you first then,” he says. “Then I’ll talk about myself.”
He brushes a thumb over Rose’s lower lip, lightly, so that it tingles, before swiping again slightly harder, quieting the nerves in its wake.
“What will you absolutely not do…ever, even in an atmosphere of comfort? And you can tell me things that you’re not sure about, too. I understand the difference between hard and soft limits. Sometimes certain limits can be pushed if you’re sufficiently aroused.”
Szayel gazes down at him curious, supportive. He wonders about his own limits and lack thereof, and how they will be perceived. But that will come in time. For now, it is not about him, and for that he is thankful.
