[it's impossible to resist—the way leon aggressively kisses him seems to declare intent to keep going, and it's like the better part of any conscious has completely left stahn. his heart is racing in his chest from the sheer excitement, but the truth is that he can't keep this position either.
but he doesn't want to break the kisses for any more than a second, not the quick ones, not the ones where he tastes leon against his tongue, not the ones where his teeth lightly tug at leon's lips—not a single one of them.
which is why everything about his actions are clumsy. hands fumbling for a proper grip on leon's waist, followed by using what strength he has to lift leon up. it winds him a little, but being unwilling to stop in the moment because every sensation that makes his lips tingly and raw is fine... even if what comes next is just as clumsy. he lifts leon to seat him on the desk with little regard for what's actually on the desk, meaning that leon's body is the force that slides everything askew. papers scatter everywhere, the quill pen gets knocked to the floor along with other stationary supplies...
and stahn is paying exactly zero mind to that, instead using this newfound equal height to free up his hands; one rests on the side of leon's thigh, the other cups his cheek in just a way that the tips of his fingers lightly thread the hair at the base of leon's temple.]
no subject
but he doesn't want to break the kisses for any more than a second, not the quick ones, not the ones where he tastes leon against his tongue, not the ones where his teeth lightly tug at leon's lips—not a single one of them.
which is why everything about his actions are clumsy. hands fumbling for a proper grip on leon's waist, followed by using what strength he has to lift leon up. it winds him a little, but being unwilling to stop in the moment because every sensation that makes his lips tingly and raw is fine... even if what comes next is just as clumsy. he lifts leon to seat him on the desk with little regard for what's actually on the desk, meaning that leon's body is the force that slides everything askew. papers scatter everywhere, the quill pen gets knocked to the floor along with other stationary supplies...
and stahn is paying exactly zero mind to that, instead using this newfound equal height to free up his hands; one rests on the side of leon's thigh, the other cups his cheek in just a way that the tips of his fingers lightly thread the hair at the base of leon's temple.]