[ It was only a matter of time, he supposes, though there's a semi detached part of his mind that's surprised Arthur seems to find him attractive. He'd pegged Arthur for the type of guy to like a more muscled look, more inherently masculine, but those nails tell him otherwise. It's enough to spur him on, hair falling to curtain his face as he kisses down the other's chest. Arthur is impatient, needing, and Meliorn wants nothing more than to drag this out as long as possible because of this. ]
[ It's a bit of an odd angle to watch Meliorn from, but he tips his chin down anyway, gaze intent as the other works his way down his chest, the waves of his hair skimming across his skin. Arthur squirms under the contact, letting out a moan that's more of a content sigh. Taking it slow is– well, it's not what he usually does, but if this is what the fae wants, he'll allow it.
Reaching out, he traces the shell of Mel's ear, following the line of it to the scar on the one side of his face. His fingertips linger there, just on the crest of his cheekbone, memorizing the feel. ]
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Reaching out, he traces the shell of Mel's ear, following the line of it to the scar on the one side of his face. His fingertips linger there, just on the crest of his cheekbone, memorizing the feel. ]