[ gu yun barely has enough time to deepen the mark he starts to leave. no one'll see it, but that's alright - leaving his mark on another person's not a bad thing. when she tilts her head, he goes after the spot with intent, following up on wrath's reactions, and...
....speaking of, if he catches that look of concern, gu yun has nothing to say about it.
ultimately, he lets wrath push him back, dropping backwards onto his elbows before laying back entirely, a picture of pale skin and dark hair like ink spread around him in a halo. it's almost a jarring image, contradictory in its own right - his face belongs to that of of a young master, maybe, the type beautiful and elegant enough to waste his days away in flower gardens, but his body is that of the hardened soldier that gu yun really is.
when wrath hesitates, her touch delicate, gu yun presses into her fingertips. it's a nonverbal acceptance, a motion forward - go on. there's nothing that gu yun is ashamed of. he's earned every mark on him, each one a reminder of a battle won, of another day that the black iron camp keeps its place as great liang's defenders, as the marquis of order keeps order in his home.
it's also a strange sensation, though not a bad one - just one he hasn't quite gotten used to. parts of the nerves are dead, here, but his oversensitivity makes the line between nothing and a lot blurry, and gu yun lets his head tilt back and his eyes close, for the moment luxuriating in the attention, as he arches up into the touch as if being drawn by a string, and lets his hands drop back down to her hips, again, squeezing a little tighter when she brushes against a spot he likes, hips twitching up mostly out of instinct. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
....speaking of, if he catches that look of concern, gu yun has nothing to say about it.
ultimately, he lets wrath push him back, dropping backwards onto his elbows before laying back entirely, a picture of pale skin and dark hair like ink spread around him in a halo. it's almost a jarring image, contradictory in its own right - his face belongs to that of of a young master, maybe, the type beautiful and elegant enough to waste his days away in flower gardens, but his body is that of the hardened soldier that gu yun really is.
when wrath hesitates, her touch delicate, gu yun presses into her fingertips. it's a nonverbal acceptance, a motion forward - go on. there's nothing that gu yun is ashamed of. he's earned every mark on him, each one a reminder of a battle won, of another day that the black iron camp keeps its place as great liang's defenders, as the marquis of order keeps order in his home.
it's also a strange sensation, though not a bad one - just one he hasn't quite gotten used to. parts of the nerves are dead, here, but his oversensitivity makes the line between nothing and a lot blurry, and gu yun lets his head tilt back and his eyes close, for the moment luxuriating in the attention, as he arches up into the touch as if being drawn by a string, and lets his hands drop back down to her hips, again, squeezing a little tighter when she brushes against a spot he likes, hips twitching up mostly out of instinct. ]