[just like in photography, it's all about perspective. and in the heat of the moment, it's hard to tell whether or not he's being used, or using anyone. there's a whole lot of good in Prompto, and maybe that makes him prime for being lead around to places out of his comfort zone, he doesn't think of people that way. the world can't really work like that all the time, right? all he has to go by, right now, is that it feels good. his body reacts just the way it's supposed to, all the subtle body language packaged up and displayed properly: his chest arcs forward in a sign of openness, his fingers coil around a body part within reach, he lets his head be directed in a way that creates less obtrusion.
it doesn't escape him that McGillis has a certain way about him either. the type that not only demands perfection around him by his mere personal aura, but also commands a certain charismatic insistence on getting what he wants done. and it's not like Prompto hasn't been on the receiving end of a deep kiss before, or given one for that matter, but it was infinitely more arousing when the other party didn't flounder around with the desire to do it. the blond is swept up by it, taken in by the undertow, and no matter the level of trouble he's in, he's always been one to accidentally skirt the line of between safe and dangerous.
simply put, he's wandered willingly straight into the lion's den.
Prompto shifts, then, his body knowing what to do in the warmth of the moment, if McGillis permits it- as he comes undone from his useless sack of potatoes position and into a more active one. his lap becomes a seat, and although he's a grown ass man, the weight of his body is probably a blip in the radar. he raises his hand upward to touch his cheek, guided in location by the juxtaposition of their lips tangled together. Prompto accepts the entrance towards his own mouth, as he presses his tongue upward and against the general's. the contortive sweeps that McGillis makes inside Prompto stir him, as he feels blissfully helpless to the game of chicken that they've made. with a rising gradation of effort, he tries to keep himself a contender, so as not to be eaten whole by McGillis' intentful presence.
and somewhere around his wrist, a little mark on a box is checked off. if this wasn't enough to bring birds home to roost in this world, at least the one sitting in McGillis' lap is content enough to let his cage rattle a bit.]
no subject
it doesn't escape him that McGillis has a certain way about him either. the type that not only demands perfection around him by his mere personal aura, but also commands a certain charismatic insistence on getting what he wants done. and it's not like Prompto hasn't been on the receiving end of a deep kiss before, or given one for that matter, but it was infinitely more arousing when the other party didn't flounder around with the desire to do it. the blond is swept up by it, taken in by the undertow, and no matter the level of trouble he's in, he's always been one to accidentally skirt the line of between safe and dangerous.
simply put, he's wandered willingly straight into the lion's den.
Prompto shifts, then, his body knowing what to do in the warmth of the moment, if McGillis permits it- as he comes undone from his useless sack of potatoes position and into a more active one. his lap becomes a seat, and although he's a grown ass man, the weight of his body is probably a blip in the radar. he raises his hand upward to touch his cheek, guided in location by the juxtaposition of their lips tangled together. Prompto accepts the entrance towards his own mouth, as he presses his tongue upward and against the general's. the contortive sweeps that McGillis makes inside Prompto stir him, as he feels blissfully helpless to the game of chicken that they've made. with a rising gradation of effort, he tries to keep himself a contender, so as not to be eaten whole by McGillis' intentful presence.
and somewhere around his wrist, a little mark on a box is checked off. if this wasn't enough to bring birds home to roost in this world, at least the one sitting in McGillis' lap is content enough to let his cage rattle a bit.]