["Thank you. Yes, I'm devilishly handsome..." It occurs to him to give any such response, and he even opens his mouth to do it. It's on the tip of his tongue. He has all of the air he needs to reply, but the compliment itself somehow penetrates deeper than he imagined it would, rendering him speechless.
The shapeshifted Puca draws his attention back to the mirror, where he beholds himself again. He possesses a radiance about himself that is undeniable even to his own eyes, a loveliness that enchants him even when his smile's dropped. Beyond skin and hair and physicality. He searches his own face and can't help but smile, which only makes him smile brighter. And, absurdly, heat washes over his body, flustered by his own euphoria.
He's beautiful, and it suffuses him soul-deep, bringing flushed vitality to his cheeks where he might have otherwise looked so unaffected by a compliment. Or maybe it's his soul that permeates, rather than the perception of his beauty.]
I am.
[So he can express that he agrees, but he does it in fewer words with less embellishment. Fingers pressed to his neck again, he can feel his heart pounding under his touch, the slight way his heated skin prickles under the cool air, even as he's warmed under his own perception, under Emet-Selch's gaze.
Eyes belonging to somebody so close to him, someone who's seen him so thoroughly, attention taken and forced to perceive him down to his core even while he lacks his sight for souls. A gaze he doesn't shrink under, but thrives under. He gives his reflection a thoroughly pleased expression, a smile brimming with satisfaction and love for himself, before turning back to his Bonded the same way, the love redirected. He breaks away from his reflection to rejoin him on the bed, eyes locked with his all the while.
The idol crawls onto the mattress, shifting to hover over Emet-Selch's body. He remains on his knees but sits back enough to give him a better, more personal view of his body, as though proudly putting it on for display and appraisal. But he steals him into an unrestrained kiss, long and passionate but still tasteful for all it is, his tongue only flirting with the prospect of plunging past his lips. He tastes at the suggestion of him, laps at his lower lip as he tilts his head forward, a play of confidence and undeniable presence and want. A smooth, soft note of contentment slides from deep within him, carrying with it just a touch of the desire he feels, the currents of electric love and attraction he feels for his Bonded.]
no subject
The shapeshifted Puca draws his attention back to the mirror, where he beholds himself again. He possesses a radiance about himself that is undeniable even to his own eyes, a loveliness that enchants him even when his smile's dropped. Beyond skin and hair and physicality. He searches his own face and can't help but smile, which only makes him smile brighter. And, absurdly, heat washes over his body, flustered by his own euphoria.
He's beautiful, and it suffuses him soul-deep, bringing flushed vitality to his cheeks where he might have otherwise looked so unaffected by a compliment. Or maybe it's his soul that permeates, rather than the perception of his beauty.]
I am.
[So he can express that he agrees, but he does it in fewer words with less embellishment. Fingers pressed to his neck again, he can feel his heart pounding under his touch, the slight way his heated skin prickles under the cool air, even as he's warmed under his own perception, under Emet-Selch's gaze.
Eyes belonging to somebody so close to him, someone who's seen him so thoroughly, attention taken and forced to perceive him down to his core even while he lacks his sight for souls. A gaze he doesn't shrink under, but thrives under. He gives his reflection a thoroughly pleased expression, a smile brimming with satisfaction and love for himself, before turning back to his Bonded the same way, the love redirected. He breaks away from his reflection to rejoin him on the bed, eyes locked with his all the while.
The idol crawls onto the mattress, shifting to hover over Emet-Selch's body. He remains on his knees but sits back enough to give him a better, more personal view of his body, as though proudly putting it on for display and appraisal. But he steals him into an unrestrained kiss, long and passionate but still tasteful for all it is, his tongue only flirting with the prospect of plunging past his lips. He tastes at the suggestion of him, laps at his lower lip as he tilts his head forward, a play of confidence and undeniable presence and want. A smooth, soft note of contentment slides from deep within him, carrying with it just a touch of the desire he feels, the currents of electric love and attraction he feels for his Bonded.]