[Robert's quiet too, actually, just tracing small, gentle, careful patterns over Don, wondering how this feels for him and why it bothers him... wondering what it means that it bothers him. Wondering a million things, really.
His hands don't stray anywhere else from the upper half of Don's plastron, though they meander there. Don'd probably have to be more specific if he wanted Robert to touch anywhere else.
The moment Don pulls away, Robert snatches his hands back almost in a chastised manner and holds them, meerkat-like, against his own thin chest.]
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His hands don't stray anywhere else from the upper half of Don's plastron, though they meander there. Don'd probably have to be more specific if he wanted Robert to touch anywhere else.
The moment Don pulls away, Robert snatches his hands back almost in a chastised manner and holds them, meerkat-like, against his own thin chest.]
I... I-I hope that was alright...