[ There's a fluster to Fabian that could be read as hesitance, as uncertainty; as not being sure enough to make a decision. But Gorgug feels that he knows Fabian well enough to accept the answer that he gives him to be able to stand up with it.
Maybe it's more to do with Gorgug's own eagerness, this desire in his stomach that refuses to let go of him, that's driving Gorgug more than anything else. But even as Gorgug takes Fabian's hand--a glance taken to the equipment he was meant to be fixing that he's leaving behind, no more thought than that given to them--and he pulls it to lead the other, there's no greater force behind his grip that would keep Fabian coming along with him if he didn't want to.
Like a repeat of the night where they snuck off to the karaoke room during Heather's party, but with walls of the hall they go down shabby with age, a few missing lights above their head that aren't yet annoying enough to be dealt with as Gorgug takes Fabian to his room. A bare door with nothing but a number, and a keyhole that Gorgug has to let go of Fabian's hand to deal with, pulling a key from his overall pocket to click it open, and then going in first to pull Fabian in.
Not far from the door. Gorgug closes it behind him, locks it quick, giving Fabian about five seconds to see the state of the room with his darkvision. It's no bigger than a student's dorm in comparison to size and accommodations, with a wardrobe in one corner and a mattress and bedside table beside it, hovering larger over where a proper bed should be. The actual frame it needs sits forced into the corner on the opposite side of the room, near where Fabian stands; squeezed next to a desk and chair, currently used to house a few of Gorgug's shirts, with the table top housing the VRs he's been rewiring for Fabian's shows.
Gorgug doesn't turn to any of it, and he doesn't let Fabian wander. A hand takes a hold of his wrist and pulls him to the freshly closed door, pressing his back to it so that Gorgug can crowd him with his body with his gaze falling down on him. Fabian lives in shades of monochrome under his own darkvision, but he can still tell where his lips are, his singular eye, the curve of his cheekbones.
Am I still handsome? he wonders, but doesn't care to ask--because it's an impression he wants to put on the other. He wants to show him why he came down here, whe wants to date him. Why it's Gorgug he's coming down to see.
Gorgug slips a hand around the under side of Fabian's jaw, lifting it to tip his head to see him better. A romantic gesture, maybe, if not for the hand still resting noticebly close to Fabian on the door to keep him closed in. He brings his mouth to Fabian's, and while he doesn't come in as strong as quickly as he had in the mess hall, he's not coy with the way his mouth moves, tongue dipping to meet Fabian's lips, to deepen the kiss into something more than chaste. The hand wrapping around and gripping at the back of his neck, fingers pressing into skin and hair; and his lips crushing, his chest moving in close, pushing Fabian's back even closer to that door that rattles a little to be moved unexpectantly, even with its lock in place.
Gorgug doesn't care about that. There's the colour of red behind his closed eyes, a hunger being allowed to grow with the taste of Fabian on his tongue. The hand on the door moving, slipping away from wood to Fabian's shoulder, down to his side, to pulling on the waistband of his pants as it seems to be seeking, finding some new place to be.
Deciding when to progress, and how. Because Gorgug knows what he wants, but even he needs patience. He needs to take one thing at a time. And Fabian's mouth comes first. ]
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Maybe it's more to do with Gorgug's own eagerness, this desire in his stomach that refuses to let go of him, that's driving Gorgug more than anything else. But even as Gorgug takes Fabian's hand--a glance taken to the equipment he was meant to be fixing that he's leaving behind, no more thought than that given to them--and he pulls it to lead the other, there's no greater force behind his grip that would keep Fabian coming along with him if he didn't want to.
Like a repeat of the night where they snuck off to the karaoke room during Heather's party, but with walls of the hall they go down shabby with age, a few missing lights above their head that aren't yet annoying enough to be dealt with as Gorgug takes Fabian to his room. A bare door with nothing but a number, and a keyhole that Gorgug has to let go of Fabian's hand to deal with, pulling a key from his overall pocket to click it open, and then going in first to pull Fabian in.
Not far from the door. Gorgug closes it behind him, locks it quick, giving Fabian about five seconds to see the state of the room with his darkvision. It's no bigger than a student's dorm in comparison to size and accommodations, with a wardrobe in one corner and a mattress and bedside table beside it, hovering larger over where a proper bed should be. The actual frame it needs sits forced into the corner on the opposite side of the room, near where Fabian stands; squeezed next to a desk and chair, currently used to house a few of Gorgug's shirts, with the table top housing the VRs he's been rewiring for Fabian's shows.
Gorgug doesn't turn to any of it, and he doesn't let Fabian wander. A hand takes a hold of his wrist and pulls him to the freshly closed door, pressing his back to it so that Gorgug can crowd him with his body with his gaze falling down on him. Fabian lives in shades of monochrome under his own darkvision, but he can still tell where his lips are, his singular eye, the curve of his cheekbones.
Am I still handsome? he wonders, but doesn't care to ask--because it's an impression he wants to put on the other. He wants to show him why he came down here, whe wants to date him. Why it's Gorgug he's coming down to see.
Gorgug slips a hand around the under side of Fabian's jaw, lifting it to tip his head to see him better. A romantic gesture, maybe, if not for the hand still resting noticebly close to Fabian on the door to keep him closed in. He brings his mouth to Fabian's, and while he doesn't come in as strong as quickly as he had in the mess hall, he's not coy with the way his mouth moves, tongue dipping to meet Fabian's lips, to deepen the kiss into something more than chaste. The hand wrapping around and gripping at the back of his neck, fingers pressing into skin and hair; and his lips crushing, his chest moving in close, pushing Fabian's back even closer to that door that rattles a little to be moved unexpectantly, even with its lock in place.
Gorgug doesn't care about that. There's the colour of red behind his closed eyes, a hunger being allowed to grow with the taste of Fabian on his tongue. The hand on the door moving, slipping away from wood to Fabian's shoulder, down to his side, to pulling on the waistband of his pants as it seems to be seeking, finding some new place to be.
Deciding when to progress, and how. Because Gorgug knows what he wants, but even he needs patience. He needs to take one thing at a time. And Fabian's mouth comes first. ]