[ Truly, the Shrine had become a haven for him. In the way that the Last Dance no longer was, haunted as he had been within the walls and veils and gleaming baubles and fine-enough company by the memory of his kin, the shrine was the place he had refused to taint with Osiris's presence. He had kept it clean, pristine, untouched by the ugly thing inside of him — and now, he brings someone new to into it. Into a place tangled up in latent energies, rivals and companions both, into a place that smells of Set — that dry, desert-neutral nothingness of him coupling with whatever was most pleasing, innately, to the one who would draw close to him.
He warms, curves toward Liem when he hears his agreement. The thing in the pit of his belly new to the seeking of company like this, new to the full, clear-of-mind pursuit of another man — was there not a first time for all things, though? He steps into Liem's personal space again, dipping his head down to find the shell of his ear with murmured words: Could you want me too? Before he slips his hands, both of them gently wrestled free, to the front of Liem's jacket — though he plucks each button free, he does not immediately dash his clothes from him.
Set does slide his hands into the gape of the jacket, to find Liem's waist better now that he has been liberated from a layer. To draw him deeper, and nose his way into another kiss, a proper one. Oddly chaste, as if Set could be content with the artless press of his full mouth to Liem's, before he drags the wet warmth of his tongue across the seam of the other man's mouth — a request to open, open, open. ]
no subject
He warms, curves toward Liem when he hears his agreement. The thing in the pit of his belly new to the seeking of company like this, new to the full, clear-of-mind pursuit of another man — was there not a first time for all things, though? He steps into Liem's personal space again, dipping his head down to find the shell of his ear with murmured words: Could you want me too? Before he slips his hands, both of them gently wrestled free, to the front of Liem's jacket — though he plucks each button free, he does not immediately dash his clothes from him.
Set does slide his hands into the gape of the jacket, to find Liem's waist better now that he has been liberated from a layer. To draw him deeper, and nose his way into another kiss, a proper one. Oddly chaste, as if Set could be content with the artless press of his full mouth to Liem's, before he drags the wet warmth of his tongue across the seam of the other man's mouth — a request to open, open, open. ]