Foolish and soft, it's like a vulgar attempt at something he knew he wouldn't ever deserve, not with the rot that taints his flesh, the shredded tissue crudely stitched back together pleading for respite that somehow only comes when warm fingertips that don't belong to him stroke the clothed scars that mottle tanned skin. Thoughts, ideas, dreams that have no business swirling within his mind that he longs so terribly to have emptied for once in a manner that doesn't require the presence of another being - of the same person who seemingly understood him with nothing more than a laugh and a glance. Two souls entwined, he would muse if asked by a stranger, but @cercat0re never needed the verbal confirmation of such a foolish notion. It feels near bastardized with how often he longs for the very domesticity that he claims to hate, the docile nature brought forth from such simplistic motions that Luis feels like a completely different person when in the far too bright presence of the man that the seemingly disembodied voice belongs to.
“ No, I'm thinking. ”
Thinking? Daydreaming, fantasizing for a future that he does not deserve yet still reaches for and grasps desperately regardless because he is a greedy man and Leon is so giving, so kind and soft and warm when it is just them in the privacy of one of their homes. The feeling of lips against his skin lingers, seared into the memory of the flesh they'd touched like a beloved brand, a deeply cherished feeling that's bound to haunt his more lonely of nights - nights where his knight in shining armor has to inevitably return home or go back into the field and contact is limited, questionable enough to make him feel as though pale hands pried apart the flesh carefully stretched across bones held together by hopes and dreams only to reshatter them and rip his heart from his chest to take with the agent wherever he's forced to go.
Light silvers finally flicker, focus slowly returning to the man who was revered for his quick wit and intelligence. For such light touches to make his mind go blank, he would be laughed into oblivion by his peers and yet he doesn't care one bit. Tawny fingers gently reach for the wrist puppeteering those heavenly fingers against his skull, trace the tendons to the palm then slowly lace with the digits that always found the quickest, most effective ways of soothing the racing waves within his mind.
“ You'll have to do better than a peck to the mandible to knock me on my ass, vaquero. ”
Foolish, soft, and a liar. His days in umbrella seemingly lingered in the refusal to allow himself a moment of weakness, Leon's presence alone was dangerous enough for the good doctor, lingering regrets and fears keep him from doing much else. He wants to pull the blonde closer, mumble the thoughts he refuses to dignify with being spoken into the world because speaking them means they're real to him, means that he's being too greedy again and selfish. He masks it though, smugness laying in his half smirk, lazy eyes half open while he takes in familiar pale features and feels his fingers twitch against the warm skin they cling to with a longing he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.