#.if the question is 'would Wynn bite Nezumi'

[sansloii]

Nezumi pushes himself on Wynn's lap — and if he isn't immediately welcomed, he pushes harder until he is straddling Wynn's thighs and peering into his eyes with the intensity of a laser. His silver irises are almost entirely swallowed by the blackness of his pupils. He stares at Wynn as if he was seeing him for the first time — not unlike a cat that found a particularly interesting spot on the wall.

Slowly, Nezumi blinks and cups both sides of Wynn's face with his hands. His fingers are cold as if he were standing outside for hours without a jacket — which isn't entirely unlikely, either.

Nezumi's hands move, thumbs pressing into the corners of Wynn's mouth. He says nothing as he tilts Wynn's head back and tries to pry his lips open to have a look at his teeth.

Sharp and pretty. Nezumi — a little mesmerised — runs his thumb over the upper line of Wynn's teeth. He cuts his finger on one of his canines and hisses, but it doesn't make him pull back, only move closer. He is so close, he can feel Wynn's breath on his face.

"I like your teeth," Nezumi murmurs and pulls Wynn's bottom lip down to have a better look at the bottom row. He pets over it, too, uncaring of a few shallow cuts that make him bleed on Wynn's tongue.

"Have you ever torn a man to shreds with them?"

Nezumi need not force his way into his lap, as he is always welcome in it. As he pushes, Wynn allows it and simply raises the limb resting on his leg to make room for the singer. At first, it just hovers near Nezumi’s form… but as the other man leans in, that hand drifts closer and ultimately cups his thigh — the other finding a spot similar on the opposite leg. They move without much thought, really — and it’s in the same manner that his head tips back a bit to gaze up at the raven. He doesn’t protest the hands at his cheeks and allows that, too. It doesn’t matter that Nezumi’s fingers are cold and have his face in something akin to a vice.

He thinks nothing of it… not at this point.

He knows where Nezumi’s gaze is going and, like clockwork, he can feel the pressure from the singer’s fingers to coax his head back and his gaze further up. Again, he allows it. He doesn’t necessarily appreciate the sensation that follows — of fingers pressing into the corners of his mouth, of the very same prying at his lip to get them open. The shifter obliges but it’s not without a displeased rumble and a furrowed brow, as if in warning, before he relents.

Who was he warning, though?

Certainly not Nezumi.

No, no—that man, with a fixed gaze and larger pupils, was drawn in much more by the row of sharpened teeth he revealed. Like always, a finger is immediately drags across them slowly and ( like always ) it catches on the tip of one of Wynn’s teeth. Even as the copper-like tang beings to fill his mouth, Nezumi leans further in. Closer. Scrutinizing. Inspecting. Appreciating. His teeth were far from perfect, but that bothered the singer none — it didn’t seem to stop him from wanting to touch every… single… time.

“I like you teeth.” Nezumi says as though he wasn’t already aware of that at this point — as if he hasn’t already had Nezumi’s blood on his tongue one too many times. Even now, he’s petting over them and, thus, making countless more cuts on his fingers; proving that point. Another displeased sound bubbles up in his throat at the raven pulling his bottom lip down, but it’s less severe compared to the first noise.

The question that follows is almost expected and, unfortunately, he’s not at all surprised to hear it — less surprised to hear that it’s the first thought in Nezumi’s head.

The hands resting on Nezumi’s thighs lift ( oh, but with a slight reluctance ) to grasp the other man’s hands and pull them away from Wynn’s mouth. Lips close to run his tongue over his teeth to clean the blood off, the corners of his lips twitching down at the taste but ultimately resolving to ignore it. He then shakes his head, with a low “No.” following it.

The “temptation” is always there, though, because it would be so easy to. It would be beyond easy for him — minus all the blood and the subsequent taste of it. Just as easy as it would be for him to snap a bone or break someone’s jaw should he choose to. All it would take… is a thought ( or a lack of one ).

His eyes drift briefly to the other’s throat… lingering… before looking back up to meet Nezumi’s gaze.

“ — And I do not want to.” he continues, “There are less gruesome ways to deal with people.”

unprompted | @nezumivc103221