[Tavros feels his look-orbs rolling to the back of his head, even beneath closed lids, and it takes pretty much the entirety of his self-control not to jerk his head toward Dave's mouth, thus ripping the back of his throat out. Though, admittedly, there's something to be said for the secretly thrilling idea of Dave's blood—not that he wants to hurt or maim him in the least. It's a primal instinct that Tav has never seen much sport in, until now, apparently. But he stays still, or at least his head does—his hands have begun a tentative exploration of Dave's torso beneath his shirt, sharp nails trailing lightly over ribs and bony sides and spots of soft, pink flesh, pressing inquisitively here and there. Meanwhile, his mouth spouts soft, avid encouragements, soon becoming so garbled they wouldn't merit transcription.]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2011-11-08 07:56 am (UTC)