[ It is presumptuous, but Ratio is not entirely against the notion of a repeat performance. He is not the kind of man to give into vices, not the kind of man to fall into lust and desire - he is no mere mortal, not the sort of person to be victim to idle fancies, but there is something alluring and wonderful about Aventurine that he cannot possibly wrap his mind around, something that draws the two of them together like magnets.
The fingers in his hair feel good, drawing him all the closer, and Ratio sinks into the kiss as if he was born for it, made for it, excited pulses of delight flooding his body. It's natural, biological instinct, he's aware of that, all the parts of the human body recognisable to his inner mind, but that ought not to be his focus. What should matter is what is happening because of those impulses; leaning into the kiss, he groans softly.
It is perfect.
One arm wraps around Aventurine's waist, drawing him close, squeezing at his body as he kisses him back, filled with all the restrained passion that has built inside of him, the desperation for more that he can't fight. ]
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The fingers in his hair feel good, drawing him all the closer, and Ratio sinks into the kiss as if he was born for it, made for it, excited pulses of delight flooding his body. It's natural, biological instinct, he's aware of that, all the parts of the human body recognisable to his inner mind, but that ought not to be his focus. What should matter is what is happening because of those impulses; leaning into the kiss, he groans softly.
It is perfect.
One arm wraps around Aventurine's waist, drawing him close, squeezing at his body as he kisses him back, filled with all the restrained passion that has built inside of him, the desperation for more that he can't fight. ]