[ Blue eyes, hazy with heat, narrow with pleasure when he feels Mika’s fingers - his hand - cup his face, returning his affection. ]

Being kissed?

[ Here? his lips ask against Mika’s palm, the ending of the question another kiss. Another one at the base of his palm, lips closing over the rounded edge. And here? ]

My love…

[ Mika is his sweetest love. Every small taste of his essence winds Ginger tighter, harder - but he thinks, he thinks it’s fine. He doesn’t need release. He thinks he likes being a step closer to the edge each time, but never tipping - because he’d fall alone. Mika doesn’t experience release, does he? Mika falls in a different way.

No, Ginger would rather - if they could - together. Something… together. Until then -

(He’s watching, waiting. Tell him no. If not… )

A short trail marked by breath to where his pulse should be. His lips open like a bite - like a taste - and catch on skin. ]

I think… I understand - a little - what you mean when you say you like my blood. Should I… kiss you all over from now on? Would you like that?