Just this once, then. *Ikenna agrees, his own smile affectionate and warm as he takes in Kailas’s every expression, his adorably knowing little smile, and the way his vivid eyes are practically aflame with—well, with a similar spark of desire that currently threatens to keep Ikenna from moving from the bed. It’s somewhat ridiculous, Ikenna is aware of this much, the reluctance he feels at losing this warm contact, even for a brief moment, and yet, once his hand is released, he still finds himself at a momentary pause.
Still, apparent newfound teenage over-eagerness aside, the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can return. It’s fairly easy logic to follow, even in his current drunken—for Kailas’s touch, that is—state. Ikenna draws himself from the bed, away from his position against the younger man’s cool, bare frame, and really, it is interesting how Ikenna’s pale skin feels far less warm without this touch. It has very little to do with the air, nothing to do with the energy burning strongly within him.
A faintly wry smirk takes hold of his lips at this eagerness of his, but he certainly doesn’t dawdle on retrieving the necessary supplies neatly tucked away in his bag. Organization, as always, has its use, and it takes very little time for the councilman to return to the warmth of the bed, the warmth of Kailas.*
Was that quick enough for you? I hope you didn’t get too cold without me. *he quietly teases, easing himself back to the bed, and far more importantly, reinitiating that so very much wanted—needed—contact.*