terminusvitae:

Wings quietly stir at the air with such a simple touch to one of is more pronounced scars, his version of a surprised jerk. One of the things he appreciates about Vincent - the lack of questions, granting him the option to offer information about his past on his own terms, should he wish. Fingers take to lightly flitting at Vincent’s shoulder blades; originally they’d have trailed up and down his spine but given the staining of his back, he’s still unsure to this day if such an action will soothe Vincent, or simply provide another reason to clam up on him.

     ”Of course. But unless you want to engage in an awkward shuffle and colliding with the door frame, you’ll have to let me go, first.”

     _{Tapered digits trail up a strong neck and trace the line of jaw that connects to an ear.  Hair is gently pushed over the delicately tipped cartilage [for he lands himself in trouble often enough on purpose with those delightfully sensitive organs].  Arm falls to wrap around the paramour, and a nose becomes buried in the solidity of his lover’s shoulder.  The hand on his back is not unwelcome, and if he were not clothed he would perhaps be slightly more hesitant to allow such a gesture, but regardless–he would not stop those fingers if they chose to explore.
     Saucily, a suggestion comes, albeit muffled from his position: “You could always carry me."  With a soft snicker, he nips the portion of skin just before the throat and releases his hold, turning to flick through the doorway.}

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