He shifts to lean next to Sheehan, that easy proximity; it's hard not to smile, the way his currently-still heart flutters regardless at the warmth in Sheehan's voice, and his gaze flicks down so he doesn't lose his composure entirely.
"He was lucky. To have- such a kind, generous, dedicated soul to mind his cause. Someone who cares this much."
He wraps his arm around Arthur's waist, flushing red.
"I would day that it's my job, but - I think taking this job as a warden on a magical spaceship goes beyond my normal duties," he laughs. "But I did get you from it, so I'd say it was all worth it."
Arthur's eyes meet his again, and- despite their off colour, despite the lack of it in his cheeks, he's practically radiating warmth, and he leans in again to press a smiling kiss against Sheehan's mouth.
He leans into him, the strange coolness of his skin no deterrent. He runs fingers through Arthur's hair, mussing it beyond all hope, one of his favorite things.
The fingers in his hair still makes his scalp tingle, and those three words still make him gasp with soft warmth, a too-pleasant squeeze on his heart every time.
"I love you," he murmurs right back; and he shifts position, so he can pin Sheehan gently against the counter and kiss him again, deep and warm.
He melts into him, moving with him, the arm around Arthur's waist keeping him close. His fingers tug ever so gently into his hair, down to the nape of his neck. He lets himself drown a little in the kiss, his other hand grasping his jacket between clenched fingers.
He doesn't even need to breathe and he feels like his head's spinning, the hand on his neck and Sheehan's warmth beneath his lips and his hands slide up Sheehan's jacket, sliding under to grip his shirt and kiss deeper - there's the edge of fangs now, not a threat but present as he holds Sheehan close.
He had been able to forget that those fangs exist for a moment while they talked, but they're there now, and he can't help but feel the twinge of danger in it, but - danger edged with trust.
Unlike Arthur, he does need to breathe, and he pulls back with a sharp intake of breath. He contemplates him for half a second and then he's back to kissing him, moving his hands away temporarily to shed his jacket.
Without hesitation - without thought, really, Arthur's own jacket gets stripped as well, and when he leans into kissing him hungrily his hands are already working on Sheehan's vest and shirt, getting them out of the way so his hands can find his hips and grip him tightly.
His back arches with a soft groan, between the press of their hips and the burning hands on his back (and he'd already learned, obliquely, that that still works just fine, thanks Astarion) and one hand comes to tangle in Sheehan's curls, tilt his head so Arthur can kiss down his jaw and neck.
The brush of a kiss against his neck is unexpected but sweet and he melts into it, not even thinking of a vampire's teeth. Only Arthur.
He lets out a breath, his blood hot and his heart fast. The press of the counter against his back doesn't even register as he fumbles with Arthur's shirt.
Sheehan's pulse flutters against his lips, and for a second his mind stumbles as hunger rears its ugly head.
His head swims: it would be so easy - the fingers tangled in Sheehan's hair turn to a light grip, pressing his hip more firmly into place, a firm kiss against that racing heartbeat turns open-mouthed, the flats of fangs dragging over the vein on new instinct--
Then he feels bare hands on his skin like a brand and he's suddenly, shockingly aware of his own body and he flinches, mouth snapping shut as his head turns away a fraction.
He meets Sheehan's gaze and swallows thickly, before he looks away with a shade of guilt.
"W-we should... probably take this to the bedroom," he says, trying to put an edge of warmth back into it, massaging Sheehan's side lightly. "Basic decency, you know. It's not like we locked the door."
He takes that warmth and gentleness and runs with it. "Basic decency! That went out the window when my damn jacket fell in the sink," he says lightly, leaning forward to kiss him, gathering his shirt and taking Arthur's hand to guide him there.
Once back in the bedroom, he pulls Arthur against him so he can kiss him again. No harm done. No hurt feelings. Sheehan lets him lead now, whatever he's comfortable with, but his hands are around him again.
He's grateful for the lead, and takes advantage of it by kissing Sheehan and nudging him back until his knees hit the bed, and when he's sitting he rests a knee on the bed next to him, his thigh pressed against Sheehan's. Both hands find his neck, thumbs brushing against his broader jaw, and tilts him up a little into another deep kiss.
Behind the privacy of the door, Sheehan feels even bolder, moving with Arthur's encouragement. His fingers find his hips, still so sharp and far too skinny, but he raises up against him.
"Ah, you know this is my favorite view of you," he teases lightly, slipping his thumb underneath the waistband of his trousers.
Heat rolls up his spine when Sheehan presses into him, making a gasp shiver in his throat.
"Well, here's me learning you have one," he murmurs back, resting his forearms on Sheehan's shoulders so he can catch a handful of curls to tug his head back a little. "And you looking so damn handsome about it."
The tug gets a noise of surprise from Arthur as he quickly catches himself on either side of Sheehan's head, but he laughs as well, and hitches his other leg up so he's straddling Sheehan.
"Should I ask?" he teases back, pushing his hips into Sheehan a little more. "Or just wait until they come up naturally?"
Knowing his hands are moving there doesn't stop him from arching a little when they hit home, and if only it were possible his face would have been dark red.
Instead, he grins softly, bashful and nervous but emboldened by the praise, and he pulls his hands back for just long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor - and with only a few moments of hesitation, his undershirt follows.
He's as skinny as Sheehan expects, though it's admittedly still moreso than is healthy, but there's not any new scars on his torso to mind. "Like this, then?" he drawls quietly, leaning in to rest his hands on Sheehan's chest, tracing his fingertips lightly through the soft hair there.
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"He was lucky. To have- such a kind, generous, dedicated soul to mind his cause. Someone who cares this much."
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"I would day that it's my job, but - I think taking this job as a warden on a magical spaceship goes beyond my normal duties," he laughs. "But I did get you from it, so I'd say it was all worth it."
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"I love you," he mutters.
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"I love you," he murmurs right back; and he shifts position, so he can pin Sheehan gently against the counter and kiss him again, deep and warm.
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Unlike Arthur, he does need to breathe, and he pulls back with a sharp intake of breath. He contemplates him for half a second and then he's back to kissing him, moving his hands away temporarily to shed his jacket.
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He slides his hands under Arthur's shirt, around to his back, fingers pressed against his cool skin.
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He lets out a breath, his blood hot and his heart fast. The press of the counter against his back doesn't even register as he fumbles with Arthur's shirt.
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His head swims: it would be so easy - the fingers tangled in Sheehan's hair turn to a light grip, pressing his hip more firmly into place, a firm kiss against that racing heartbeat turns open-mouthed, the flats of fangs dragging over the vein on new instinct--
Then he feels bare hands on his skin like a brand and he's suddenly, shockingly aware of his own body and he flinches, mouth snapping shut as his head turns away a fraction.
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"What can I do?" he asks, because he has the smallest inkling of what the issue might be.
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"W-we should... probably take this to the bedroom," he says, trying to put an edge of warmth back into it, massaging Sheehan's side lightly. "Basic decency, you know. It's not like we locked the door."
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He won't hurt Sheehan, he knows he won't. Even if the moment scared him; he just has to pay attention to himself and he'll be fine.
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"Ah, you know this is my favorite view of you," he teases lightly, slipping his thumb underneath the waistband of his trousers.
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"Well, here's me learning you have one," he murmurs back, resting his forearms on Sheehan's shoulders so he can catch a handful of curls to tug his head back a little. "And you looking so damn handsome about it."
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"I have a few, but been too distracted to say anything about it."
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"Should I ask?" he teases back, pushing his hips into Sheehan a little more. "Or just wait until they come up naturally?"
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"I like seeing you above me, like this. And with fewer clothes."
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Instead, he grins softly, bashful and nervous but emboldened by the praise, and he pulls his hands back for just long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor - and with only a few moments of hesitation, his undershirt follows.
He's as skinny as Sheehan expects, though it's admittedly still moreso than is healthy, but there's not any new scars on his torso to mind. "Like this, then?" he drawls quietly, leaning in to rest his hands on Sheehan's chest, tracing his fingertips lightly through the soft hair there.
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