[A small noise escapes him, a sound strangled in his throat. One dripping with desire. His awkwardness is slowly subsiding, the fear of his uncertainty in these moments. Kaz isn't a man who gives into instinct over intellect, but with Stella there naked and fondling herself, he'd hard pressed to fight the desire to feel himself up, too.
His hand slips between his legs, lightly stroking himself.]
It looks soft. And warm. I love your curves. I love your marks. You're the story I want to explore.
[An odd remark for perhaps some, but for a man who lives off spinning truth and lies, to the woman who's original purpose was to inspire the tales of others, such a remark feels only fitting to him.]
no subject
His hand slips between his legs, lightly stroking himself.]
It looks soft. And warm. I love your curves. I love your marks. You're the story I want to explore.
[An odd remark for perhaps some, but for a man who lives off spinning truth and lies, to the woman who's original purpose was to inspire the tales of others, such a remark feels only fitting to him.]