[It was inevitable sex, and indeed might still be, but the more time he spends with Ling, the more he realizes that his usual approach isn't going to work well.
He could do it, of course. He could grab his arms and pin them over his head and kiss him senseless before fucking him until dawn, and that'd be fun. They'd both get off on that, and Ling would definitely have a hell of a first time. But that seems . . . impersonal. Not cruel, exactly, but lacking in any kind of emotion or attachment, and that--
Well, obviously it suits him. That's how he does things, and that's great, he loves that kind of frantic, fast lifestyle, seeking out physical pleasure over some stupid emotional connection. That's fine.
But it doesn't suit Ling, and a guy's first time is important.
So he settles there, hovering over Ling, straddling his hips, and doesn't yet dart down to kiss him. He wants to, very much, in no small part because Ling looks fucking fantastic on his bed, his hair all flared out around him and his body half on display already. But all Greed does is drag his fingers against his cheek, a touch as admiring as it is lustful.
It's nice like this, he thinks. Ling looks good-- not just physically, although yes, that too. But it's just . . . he looks sweet like this, excited and eager, laughably inexperienced and yet absolutely game to try anything. The dim lights highlight his skin, enriching it rather than making him look sallow or sickish, as they might with others. His body is lean, lithe, and absently Greed's fingers slide down, tracing over the chord in his neck, over his collarbone, faintly down his chest.
And there's something undeniably infectious about his smile. It makes him smile, though of course that changes to grin almost immediately.]
Right now? I know for a fact I'm gonna keep you in my bed all night. And maybe I'll learn a little more about the kid who's so eager to take me out to dinner while he's there.
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He could do it, of course. He could grab his arms and pin them over his head and kiss him senseless before fucking him until dawn, and that'd be fun. They'd both get off on that, and Ling would definitely have a hell of a first time. But that seems . . . impersonal. Not cruel, exactly, but lacking in any kind of emotion or attachment, and that--
Well, obviously it suits him. That's how he does things, and that's great, he loves that kind of frantic, fast lifestyle, seeking out physical pleasure over some stupid emotional connection. That's fine.
But it doesn't suit Ling, and a guy's first time is important.
So he settles there, hovering over Ling, straddling his hips, and doesn't yet dart down to kiss him. He wants to, very much, in no small part because Ling looks fucking fantastic on his bed, his hair all flared out around him and his body half on display already. But all Greed does is drag his fingers against his cheek, a touch as admiring as it is lustful.
It's nice like this, he thinks. Ling looks good-- not just physically, although yes, that too. But it's just . . . he looks sweet like this, excited and eager, laughably inexperienced and yet absolutely game to try anything. The dim lights highlight his skin, enriching it rather than making him look sallow or sickish, as they might with others. His body is lean, lithe, and absently Greed's fingers slide down, tracing over the chord in his neck, over his collarbone, faintly down his chest.
And there's something undeniably infectious about his smile. It makes him smile, though of course that changes to grin almost immediately.]
Right now? I know for a fact I'm gonna keep you in my bed all night. And maybe I'll learn a little more about the kid who's so eager to take me out to dinner while he's there.