Zavien
Thorn doesn't have to say much as he demonstrates the movement, and Zavien feels embarrassed at how easily he pictures Lena in that position. The courtesan's right. The touch isn't aggressive or rough, but confident in what it's after in a way that he wishes he could be - that he hopes to be. He doesn't want his inexperience to be mistaken for doubt or reluctance, for his intentions to be misunderstood. He wants her to know just how much she means to him, and just how much he cherishes having her in his life.
His head nods as he listens, eyes widening at the obvious implication of Thorn's mention of choking, but then he's sweeping it under the rug with a smile and his astute wisdom in all things sex. Zavien follows the line of reasoning, trying his best to meld it with his own views, to marry the two in a way he could utilize while dispelling worries of his own potential 'sloppiness.'
"I see..." Running a hand over the scruff of his beard, it's obvious that he's starting to get more comfortable in the conversation, the initial shock gone from his system. He leans forward on the table, eyes bright against the tinge of red that deepens and fades through the topic like a breathing entity that chooses to broadcast his embarrassment with a megaphone and a flare gun. For the moment it's content to soften its shout to a low hum as he asks, "Are there other areas that people find..." he pauses, looking for the right word before backtracking, "that people like..." but that feels worse, and he blushes before finally settling on "that I should know about?"
His head nods as he listens, eyes widening at the obvious implication of Thorn's mention of choking, but then he's sweeping it under the rug with a smile and his astute wisdom in all things sex. Zavien follows the line of reasoning, trying his best to meld it with his own views, to marry the two in a way he could utilize while dispelling worries of his own potential 'sloppiness.'
"I see..." Running a hand over the scruff of his beard, it's obvious that he's starting to get more comfortable in the conversation, the initial shock gone from his system. He leans forward on the table, eyes bright against the tinge of red that deepens and fades through the topic like a breathing entity that chooses to broadcast his embarrassment with a megaphone and a flare gun. For the moment it's content to soften its shout to a low hum as he asks, "Are there other areas that people find..." he pauses, looking for the right word before backtracking, "that people like..." but that feels worse, and he blushes before finally settling on "that I should know about?"
You don't have to prove anyone wrong.
You just have to prove yourself right.
You just have to prove yourself right.
