i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck
Almost eagerly doing as he was told, Everest sets his suitcase down at intentional angles to a nearby desk, before straightening and folding his hands together. "I appreciate that." He says, his eyes dropping for a moment. "I just...I suppose I know that it isn't the sort of thing they normally do." For all the things the aviator was becoming, an imposition wouldn't be one of them if he could help it.
"To play rough?" He repeats the words, not because he doesn't understand them, but as if to taste them. The idea of it felt so incredibly foreign, and yet ("fuck me hard") Everest couldn't deny the evidence of his own ears. "I don't think I am. It doesn't matter to me, if it doesn't to you." Spoken as if he and Danta were debating what to wear to dinner or what movie to watch rather than the aviator's sexual preferences, Ever tugged his stare back up from where it had fallen around the Maverick's knees to regard the other man. "I can show you what I learned, too. From the House of Midnight?"
"To play rough?" He repeats the words, not because he doesn't understand them, but as if to taste them. The idea of it felt so incredibly foreign, and yet ("fuck me hard") Everest couldn't deny the evidence of his own ears. "I don't think I am. It doesn't matter to me, if it doesn't to you." Spoken as if he and Danta were debating what to wear to dinner or what movie to watch rather than the aviator's sexual preferences, Ever tugged his stare back up from where it had fallen around the Maverick's knees to regard the other man. "I can show you what I learned, too. From the House of Midnight?"
.
